Ignore the reviews laden with the white liberal guilt or the white liberal defensiveness. This book is about a struggling country that needs the money from the west to survive, yet at its heart wishes the west would just take its rude tourists and away. As tourists we refuse to see that we've created a new form of economic imperialism around the world, we really just want to get away from the cold and draining life we left at home. It is easier to close our eyes and claim that angry brown people are lazy, stupid or senseless. After all we gave them hotel jobs, cruise ships and casinos, how dare they be angry at us. How dare they refuse to close their eyes to the parralells between slavery and the tourist industry maid job. This is not an essay providing answers - it is merely an essay trying to get people to wake up to the problem. After all the west caused the problems - what if they tried to solve them too!

If you expect a well-reasoned and persuasive essay, look elsewhere. At best, this is the mindless rantings of somebody who's been through a lot and really needs to vent. The only thing she was able to persuade me by the end of the book was that I was an evil person.
The book is divided into several chapters. The format is fairly simple: in every chapter, Jamaica Kincaid hates on a different group of people. In the first chapter, she rants about tourists. In the second chapter, she rants about British people. If she focused on one group of people, her argument might make sense, but when she focuses on them all it becomes clear that she just hates everybody. Because she writes the entire book in second person, every insult is directed straight at the reader. I left the book feeling extremely guilty, while at the same time not exactly sure what I had done wrong.

If you expect a well-reasoned and persuasive essay, look elsewhere. At best, this is the mindless rantings of somebody who's been through a lot and really needs to vent. The only thing she was able to persuade me by the end of the book was that I was an evil person.
The book is divided into several chapters. The format is fairly simple: in every chapter, Jamaica Kincaid hates on a different group of people. In the first chapter, she rants about tourists. In the second chapter, she rants about British people. If she focused on one group of people, her argument might make sense, but when she focuses on them all it becomes clear that she just hates everybody. Because she writes the entire book in second person, every insult is directed straight at the reader. I left the book feeling extremely guilty, while at the same time not exactly sure what I had done wrong.

Published in 1988 Kincaid's "A Small Place" is an unflinchingly angry portrayal of post-colonial, post-slavery life on the island of Antigua. To put it simply: Kincaid is as mad as hell, and she's not going to take it anymore. If you're white and can shelve your defensiveness for a moment this book is actually really enjoyable, it's written in first person and directed at "you," the British colonizer and/or the fat white tourist. Kincaid's sense of humor is wonderfully dark, and there are a lot of moments of humor if you keep an open mind. Still, at the heart of the matter is the story of Antigua's decay, left to rot by the British colonizers, with a population that doesn't vote openly corrupt officials out of office. She openly points out the irony of the celebration of emancipation alongside the valorization of the Hotel Training School, which teaches the residents of the island to be servants. In the end Kincaid concludes that no one is to blame, that after slavery the masters are no longer evil and the slaves are no longer "noble," but that everyone is merely human. She problematizes the matter, but offers no solutions, which might irritate those concrete sequentials among us. Also, she refers to Columbus, and the explorers in general, so adored in American culture, as "human rubbish" on multiple occasions. You might not agree with Kincaid, but this is one topic someone should be angry about, and her unapologetic narrative is about as honest as you can get.

I had to read this book for a Multicultural Literature class at my Uni, and, far from being informative, all it did was fill with me a contempt of my own. I am not a racist by any means, but when confronted with such a bitter, snide voice as the one Kincaid displays, I find myself unconsciously getting defensive. When she says, "you are a tourist; you are ugly," I find myself saying, "Fine, I'll keep my money and let you trade with seashells and beads." Kincaid is a master of the self-fulfilling prophecy: she says Antiguans are so oppressed and so downtrodden and so angry, and rather than doing anything to help it, she's exacerbating it by using such a bitter, over-the-top voice.

Other reviewers have stated that the vision of Antigua portrayed is a warped and extremely limited one, biased by Kincaid's apparent small mindedness, and I must confess that I'm glad to hear that. To think that the entire island is solely occupied by bitter people who imagine themselves to be ex-slaves would make me steer clear of the area any time I go on vacation.

Because, yes, I am a tourist. And no, being a tourist does not automatically make anyone ugly, despite what Kincaid's bitter rant might say.

Antigua, an awe-inspiring vacation spot for Europeans and North Americans, takes on a different aura when discussed by native Jamaica Kincaid. Ms. Kincaid describes how the Antiguans feel about the tourists who visit: ugly people. Ugly because they invaded, then brought slaves to work for them so they could become rich while ignoring the needs of those who made them wealthy. Ugly because of what they've done to the island and the people who live there. Jamaica talks about the corrupt government and the hand that North Americans, British, Syrians and Lebanese play in that corruption. She describes how England paved the roads the Queen of England would travel when she visited, but left everything else in poor condition. Ms. Kincaid also mentions the drug dealers that the government ignores and those who build ugly condos for the wealthy and rent business space to the government who should be building their own space.

In a very few pages, Jamaica Kincaid says what a lot of former slaves would like to say but are perhaps too politically correct to utter. She does the job for us. Ms. Kincaid does not mince her words when it comes to what the British Empire did to the people of Antigua and the world for that matter. Frequently, I found myself wanting to stand up and cheer as I read her words of disgust and anger. While Ms. Kincaid is specifically speaking of Antigua, her words describe the slave trade and the destruction and poverty left in the wake of it no matter what country. It is well worth reading - more than once.

Reviewed by alice Holman
of The RAWSISTAZ? Reviewers

"A Small Place," by Jamaica Kincaid, is a nonfiction prose piece about the Caribbean island of Antigua. The author bio at the beginning of the book notes that the author was born on Antigua. A lean 81 pages, this is nonetheless a powerful text.

Kincaid discusses British colonialism, the corruption of the Antiguan government, racism, and greed. It seems to me a key question raised by the book is whether post-colonial Antigua is worse than colonial Antigua. The book is very much haunted by the spectre of New World slavery.

This book is a dark, angry jeremiad. I think it works better when seen as an extended prose poem rather than as an essay. As the latter, it could be criticized as full of invalid generalizations and undocumented claims. But as a poetic/prophetic text, it is chillingly effective.

Ultimately, Kincaid's vision of the human condition is extremely negative But her haunting, almost hypnotic prose really held me. I recommend the book to anyone planning a trip to a poor country for their own pleasure.

Like other reviewer, I was little put off by Kincaid's politics.

But the first thing that struck me about this book was the tense and voice. Second person (?you do this, you do that.....?) isn?t very common in literature, so when I see it, it has an immediate effect on me. Now, in one sense, I admire the choice of this tense. It allows the narrator to talk directly to the reader, informing him or her. It also gives the narrator some freedom to literally paint a scene in the reader?s mind. Instead of going to all the trouble to create the hundreds of details necessary to allow the reader to place himself or herself in Antigua, Kincaid can accomplish this in one sentence. Granted, she goes on to provide the details (she points out the cars, the roads, the hospital, the beach, the sun, etc.) but as she does this she has some additional room with this tense to comment on these details and actually point out their significance.

Using this tense also lets Kincaid convey her opinion of the typical tourist who comes to Antigua. Using the second person present tense makes the book flow more like a conversation, and as such, allows me to imagine one particular narrator, a very specific person who is telling me this story and painting these pictures in my mind, filling in the details and their significance as we go along. And if I am not a middle class or upper middle class white American who travels to other countries, this works very well. If I am not a middle or upper class Briton, this also works. But if I am, as are many of the people who buy and read contemporary literature, this would put me out a bit. In fact, it would pretty well alienate me to this narrator. Kincaid?s narrator pretty clearly says she wishes the tourists would stay home, she despises the English, she disdains the concepts of democracy and capitalism, and doesn?t think much of the people who do. Now on the one hand, using this tense and voice makes the narrator very real, very tangible as a character. We hear the narrator?s opinions on almost everything, so the voice becomes distinctive and individual. On the other hand, what this narrator says can be very challenging to some readers. Kincaid has obviously made some choices about what she has to say and how she sees her readership.

Starting in second person, the narrator focuses on building the scene in the reader?s mind, helping the reader see himself or herself in Antigua. The first sense we get of the narrator is from the asides (?Or worse, European?). The first time the narrator identifies herself is on pg. 10 (?of the people like me...?). I think this relates to the gradual change in voice that becomes evident at the beginning of chapter 2.

At the beginning of chapter 2 (after the illustration) the voice changes from a heavy second person to a slightly more traditional first person. Kincaid starts the chapter with ?The Antigua I knew....? and goes on to stay more focused on the first person voice. For me, this reinforced the conversational aspect of the book, the give and take as the focus moves from one speaker to the other. Even though it is always Kincaid?s narrator talking, the first chapter?s emphasis on the reader (you, you, you) is followed by the second chapter?s emphasis on the narrator (I, I, I). This more closely approximates the rhythm of a real conversation and keeps the essay relaxed and moving forward for me.

Small Place Section Stands Out Because of Voice Change Again

On page 52, the narrator changes voice again. In this section, the narrator stops talking primarily about herself and the reader and speaks in a more essayistic voice about Antigua as a whole. ?In a small place, people cultivate small events.? For me, this served to draw attention to this section. Not only because the voice changed, but also because the meaning of the book?s title is revealed in this section. The effect on me as reader is to keep my attention. The general feeling I come away with is an essay that starts with me, moves to the narrator, then moves to Antigua in general.

Last Section Entirely Third Person

The final change in voice occurs in the last section. The last chapter is totally in third person. The narrator has completely dropped the reader (you, you, you) and herself (I, I, I) and begins to speak in straightforward, third person omniscient point of view about Antigua. She even drops into the essayists questions (?What might it do to people...?) in this section. Ending the book in this voice, to me, lent credibility. If she had stayed in the first or second person voice all the way to the end, I might have more easily dismissed the book as biased or too personal. But slowly moving across the voice spectrum, ending in traditional third person, lends an aura of objectivity to the end.

All in all this was a fascinating change ue of tense and voice to tell a compelling story.

Unfortunately, I had to buy A Small Place for my University of Michigan class on Latin America. I'm horrified that students and people will believe the West Indies is such a bad place from this book. Horrified. Believe me, I was born and lived in Barbados, an island close and similar in attitude to Antigua. Many everyday activities in Barbados that occur in Antigua are turned into Dateline "controversy of the week" issues. People, it's not that serious! What's worse, she doesn't even touch the real issues of the Caribbean. Not to mention, Jamaica Kincaid wrote the account as a longtime resident of the US. She doesn't even sound like a West Indian; she sounds like a pampered, naive North American who believes every nation that doesn't have a McDonald's on every block is third world, to exaggerate. White superiority is the myth this book perpetuates, and the West Indies is once again made out as a "Banana Republic." What's worse, half of the book's claims aren't even true, nor do natives consider them major issues. A warning to North Americans and Westerners alike; take this book with a grain of salt, most of this account is cornball, "what people want to hear" bull. Unfortunately, most people will believe this "tragedy." Please don't. I'm never believing anything Western media says about the rest of the world again.

I am a pacifist, liberal, anti-racist, but lord help me if I wasn't a panting colonialist by the time I finished this rant. Hate breeds hate, right? And please, haven't we seen enough countries that survived the (real, horriffic) oppression of the West only to thrive? Haven't we given up on the idea of island paradises (they weren't) despoiled (true) by Europeans? Haven't we admitted that slavery was not unique to whites, that Africans (and Asians, and Pacific Islanders, and . . .) have long dehumanized others, and other races? Haven't we accepted that colonialism disfigured, but did not ruin, peoples, that almost ALL races and peoples have been colonized at one point or another? Not Ms. Kincaid. No one could begrudge her her anger; but her hatred? About as useful as a whip on the back.