Ta-Nehisi Coates on Why Not Everyone Will Love His New Book

Ta-Nehisi Coates's breakthrough memoir, " Between the World and Me ," made an immediate impact when it was published in 2015, at the fraught tail end of the Obama era, and catapulted the Baltimore-born writer to prominence in the public conversation on race. "I've been wondering who might fill the intellectual void that plagued me after James Baldwin died," Toni Morrison declared. "Clearly it is Ta-Nehisi Coates."

Nearly 10 years later, the country — and the world — are in the midst of another contentious moment. Coates, who teaches at Howard University, has returned with a hybrid of memoir and reportage, " The Message " (a nod to the D.J. Grandmaster Flash). The book ruminates on writing and messages, their power and fallacies. It's about what it means to be a "steward" of tradition and what it means to "walk the land" with eyes wide open.

The book consists of three journeys, or intellectual pilgrimages — to Senegal, South Carolina and the West Bank — that powerfully haunted Coates. In a video interview from his home in New York, he reckoned with his wavering faith in journalism, as well as his need to keep exploring, questioning and writing. "I have ideas growing out of my ears," he said, laughing.

This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.

"The Message" was partly inspired by George Orwell's essay "Why I Write." How did you answer the question somewhat differently?

The book had its origins in a course I teach at Howard University. I always start with Orwell's "Why I Write" because he connects politics and language, which is something that has always been present in my own literary tradition. I really wanted to write a craft book. I wanted to include things you should do in sentences, things you should not do, why things work, why things don't work.

How important was it that "The Message" take the form of a letter addressed to one of your students at Howard?

I'm always trying to create intimacy between myself and the reader, so I often search for things that feel close. And my students at Howard — having gone there and spent so much time there — I feel organically there's a link that's always present.

In terms of the larger message of tradition, after "Between the World and Me" came out, I had this really, really nice blurb from Toni Morrison. And people always asked me how I felt about it. I felt I was being charged with something. I didn't feel she was calling me James Baldwin; I thought she was saying that the thing that Baldwin carried, now it's your time to carry it.

How did you look to connect the three journeys, thematically and emotionally?

For me, the three places were looking at how the stories I had been told or imbibed had shaped my perception of places. In South Carolina, it was also about the attempt to shape young people by restricting their access to stories, making sure they had access to only certain ones.

The Dakar piece was very, very hard, I think, because I still have not been able to name the link I feel between me and there. Maybe that was because that trip was more about mourning than it was about seeing Senegal and the Senegalese people.

Were you surprised by what you discovered? In South Carolina, for example, you found there were those who were mobilizing the banning of your books.

I was surprised. I went there expecting a fight. A 70-30 Trump district is a very, very red part of the country. But 30 percent is actually still a large number in a district like that. This is why the book really emphasizes the need to go and report and see things and places. And going to Palestine in the third essay — that was a complete shock to me.

It caused you to rethink your own writing on Israel in your 2014 , " The Case for Reparations "?

It did. I mean, I had already rethought it before I went there. I'm still grappling with that trip — what it means in terms of journalism, in terms of what people see and don't. I went there skeptical of Israeli power; but the extent of the depravation and the oppression was surprising.

Did the events of this past year confirm your sense of urgency in writing that section?

No. After that trip, in May 2023, I knew I had to get it down. It took a really long time to finish, and I was still writing when Oct. 7 happened. I was so struck by everything I saw in Palestine that I thought I could make that the whole book. I still have questions about that trip that I'm interested in.

Were you moved by the level of student protests here?

Honestly, I was happy to see the protests because it said to me that some significant sector in this country can still marshal moral outrage. What was disappointing was that there were certain industries — and I'd include journalism — that were more interested in whether the language of 18- and 19-year-old students was as precise as it needed to be, as opposed to really digging into what they were upset about. I found it disheartening that people just a couple years out of high school seemed to have more of a moral center than journalists.

"The Message" is arriving at a tense time in the United States and the world. What is your mood at the moment?