Since 1955, when a Belgian jazz writer helped scribe the first book investigating Big Bill’s life and music, dozens of artists, scholars, journalists, and enthusiasts have left a long trail of written work dedicated to Broonzy and his past. Well into the twenty-first century, this trend continues. These brokers of Broonzy’s life, music, and public memory have shaped and reshaped his story reflecting each respective generation’s own understandings of race, celebrity, blues music, and the black experience in the United States, among other themes. In a sense, Broonzy has become a cipher for unlocking important questions about authenticity, folklore, black identity, music history, and more to a large field of predominately white authors. For nearly sixty-five years, Big Bill and his history pop up along a long trajectory of studies that have viewed him as an object of intrigue and mystery rather than how he wanted to be remembered. Big Bill was an African American, pre-war, pop music celebrity who built and reached the height of that celebrity recording and performing for black audiences. Unearthing his vague, working class past has prevented history from accepting Big Bill for what he was—an agent of black modernity.
Slavery as national trauma in Richard Ford’s “everything could be worse”.