Characters with Books: In English-language cinema

Six years ago, to commemorate World Book Day, I published a post about characters in Hindi cinema shown with books (not necessarily reading books, but sometimes even just holding a book). My main criterion there was that the book should be identifiable, and (preferably) a real book, not just a fictitious prop bunged into the film. The idea was to celebrate books, even in cinema. After all, the connection between books and cinema goes far beyond the fact that books are often adapted to the screen. Both the page and the screen are media used to tell a story; both can entertain, both can provoke thought, both can be incendiary. And just as characters in books may watch films, characters in films may read books. To underline their own personalities and interests, by way of making an oblique reference to a thematic element of the film itself, or simply to have something to do.

This year around, with World Book Day coming up again (today in the UK, for much of the rest of the world on April 23), I decided it was high time to do another iteration of that ‘characters with books’ idea. This time, it’s characters in English-language cinema: mostly either Hollywood or British cinema. As for my earlier post, the criterion here is that the book should be identifiable: its title should be readable. Also, preferably, it should be a real book, not a fictitious one. And, of course, as for all my posts on this blog, these are all from pre-70s films that I’ve watched.

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Island in the Sun (1957)

RIP, Harry Belafonte.

I have an admission to make: Harry Belafonte was the first singer I ever crushed on.

When I was a child, my parents had a large collection of LPs, and among the many singers we heard on those, the ones who stood out for me were Connie Francis, Pat Boone, Jim Reeves—and Harry Belafonte. I still remember a Belafonte album (Belafonte Sings of the Caribbean) we had, which was one of my favourites. This one was also present among the LPs at my maternal grandparents’ home in Kolkata, which we visited sometimes for Christmas. My mother’s father had worked for the Indian music giant HMV, so their home had a massive collection of LPs, with Belafonte front and centre. We didn’t just listen to his carols and hymns at Christmas; we listened to every song he’d made popular, from the soulful Jamaica Farewell (one of the first English language songs I learnt to sing) to hilarious ones like Matilda, Man Smart Woman Smarter, and the classic There’s a Hole in the Bucket (which, by the way, is also a favourite with my daughter: she and I sing it together and always end up having a good laugh).

I loved his voice. I thought the photo of him, smiling and so handsome, on the LP cover, showed that he didn’t just have the most fantastic voice, he was also easily the best-looking of all the singers.

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