In the 1970s, they were marketed as "books from the black experience." In recent years, they've been called ghetto fiction, hip-hop novels, "street life" novels, "blaxploitation" novels and urban pulp fiction. But whatever their name, these largely self-published tales of crime, drugs and violence by young black authors—many of whom spent time on urban streets and wrote their novels behind bars—have been raking in readers and sales lately. Although most have found their audiences without conventional distribution and largely through word of mouth, they have achieved strong enough sales to lure mainstream publishers into the fray.
Among the most successful is True to the Game, a tale of two women caught in the vicious but alluring drug underworld of 1980s Philadelphia that has sold more than 200,000 copies since Teri Woods first began selling handbound copies out of the trunk of her car in 1998. Two years later, Woods became a publisher in her own right when she took on B-More Careful by Shannon Holmes, who was unable to interest any mainstream agents or publishers in his tale of a young Baltimore woman who seduces a drug lord, betrays him and faces his revenge. With sales of more than 100,000 copies through Woods's imprint, Meow Meow Productions, Holmes recently struck a six-figure deal with Atria Books for his next two novels.
"These new writers are well known, but still outside the mainstream," commented Marc Gerald, who edited the Old School Books imprint at W.W. Norton, a line of black urban fiction titles from the 1960s and '70s that remains in print, though no titles have been added since 2000. "They published the books for themselves, and sold a lot. They've had to do it independently, outside the system, and now the mainstream is coming to them."
Gerald, who currently handles book and film projects at Los Bravos Management, sees these newer writers following squarely in the footsteps of writers like Donald Goines. The godfather of the street novel, Goines may be the bestselling black author to date, with sales of more than 10 million copies of his 16 novels over the 25 years since they were first published by Holloway House, an independent press in Los Angeles. As executive producer of the forthcoming film Never Die Alone, based on the Goines novel and starring the rapper DMX, Gerald believes the genre has broad commercial appeal.
In stores like Black Images Book Bazaar in Dallas, contemporary novels such as Yanier Moore's Triple Take (Random/Striver's Row, Mar.) and Gangsta by K'Wan (Triple Crown Publications, 2002) sit easily beside vintage titles by Goines and his predecessor Iceberg Slim, another major Holloway House author. "You better believe we are carrying 'street life' books," said co-owner Emma Rodgers. "These titles help keep our door revolving."
For Rodgers and her fellow retailers, one of the category's biggest sellers is The Coldest Winter Ever by Sister Souljah (Pocket, 1999), one of the few such titles from a major publisher, and one of the genre's best, according to Rodgers. "It provides a window for mature sisters to see what many of our young sisters are experiencing, and lets us know what kind of community work we need to be doing to help some of them move in a more positive direction with their lives," she said.
"It's my belief that hip-hop fiction is for people who want their fiction to be a little more real," added Vickie M. Stringer, author of Let That Be the Reason (UpStream Publications, 2002), the self-published tale of a woman who decides to "get her hustle on" after she's abandoned by the father of her infant son. "I've had a checkered past, and I'm using my life to warn others of the dangers of the drug game."
Still, some booksellers find these titles a cause for concern, given that they appeal largely to young women under 30, who praise them for their authenticity. "The authors tell me that they're putting their books out there as a deterrent to young people, but that isn't reflected in the stories. The life is glamorized and idealized," said Clara Villarosa, co-owner of Hue-Man bookstore in Harlem. "On the one hand, I'm glad these kids are reading, but on the other I'm not so certain they're getting a message of deterrence." In some cases, Villarosa makes it her business to inform parents about the books' content. "My staff and I call ourselves the 'street life' patrol—we make sure the parents know what's in it. But the girls still tell me, 'They're good, Ms. Villarosa!' "
But others see nothing new in such concerns. Emma Rodgers draws a parallel to the controversy surrounding popular novels like The Godfather and TV shows like The Sopranos: "tales of the underworld have always been romanticized, no matter what the ethnic group." Since images of "power brokers who roll in cash, clothes, cars, jewelry" are promoted in all media, readers and viewers are influenced to think these lifestyles are something to aspire to, she observed.
Manie Barron, a literary agent at William Morris who previously held editorial and sales positions at HarperCollins and Random House, agreed: "What's going on with these novels is very similar to what's happening with hip-hop music. You have an older demographic who look at hip-hop as a blight on society, but it's what younger people are responding to." For Barron, the bottom line is that "a lot of the people picking up these books are new readers. They don't care about grammar and punctuation, they just want a good story. That's good news for publishers who are losing readers to other mass media that's less time consuming."
