Lindsey R. Swindall adds this carefully researched and well-focused study to the crowded field of books on Paul Robeson. A monumental, multitalented, charismatic man who excelled as an athlete, an actor, a singer, and a political activist, Robeson has attracted an extraordinary number of biographies and tributes: if one includes in the count the several books about Robeson intended for young audiences, his published biographies number at least 35. In addition, Robeson's memoirs and book-length essays are, for the most part, still in print. The Politics of Paul Robeson's Othello nonetheless navigates its own path through a complex career to demonstrate the centrality of the role of Othello to the development of Robeson's political identity. This monograph is surely written within the imposing shadow of Martin B. Duberman's 804-page Paul Robeson: A Biography (Knopf, 1988), but although Swindall makes frequent reference to Duberman throughout her text, her work is not derivative. Her notes as well as the impressively dense historical texture of many of her book's passages reflect a long-term research project and hours spent in archives examining promptbooks, letters, and press clippings, along with the FBI files on Robeson and his wife, Eslanda. Swindall's specialized project is organized around and adheres to the question: What did Robeson's identification with Othello have to do with his political philosophy and activism?

Robeson played the role in its entirety in three productions: in the West End at the Savoy in 1930; on Broadway in a production directed by Margaret Webster and designed by Robert Edmund Jones in 1943 (this was followed by a lengthy tour of the northern half of the United States); and at Stratford-upon-Avon in 1959. Swindall recounts these productions using traditional theatre history techniques, combining information from memoirs, letters, press reports, and reviews with valuable insights on blocking and script revisions found in promptbooks. Beyond these stagings, Swindall skillfully traces Robeson's incorporation of the character of Othello into his singing engagements, which comprise by far the greater portion of his career. Beginning in the 1940s Robeson grew increasingly politically active, and his concert performances were a mixture of folk songs, spirituals, and show tunes alongside discourses on his political passions: the liberation of African people from European domination, and equal rights for African Americans.

While it may sound less than entertaining to buy a concert ticket and receive a lecture, Swindall makes clear how engaging and charismatic Robeson was at these events. His audiences went wild for him, packing massive halls to see the strikingly tall and vital man, to hear his famously resonant and pliable voice, and to thrill at his arguments for the simple decency of the ideas of the freedom and equality of African people in Africa and the diaspora. At the climax of the concert program, Robeson would perform the final monologue from Othello. The speech seems an odd choice for a rabble-rouser—in it, Othello sums up the mistakes he has made and then stabs himself—but Swindall helps to show why this speech worked as Robeson's closer.

She bases her explanation on the facts that Robeson was the first African American to play Othello in the United States, and that his triumphant Broadway run and national tour in the 1940s was more than simply a theatrical event. Robeson insisted that the venues in which he performed sign a contract guaranteeing an integrated theatre, with a percentage of orchestra seats reserved for African American patrons. If he perceived that a theatre had violated the contract, he had the right to walk out. At the same time, he became a leading spokesperson for African liberation and American civil rights. Robeson distinguished himself as a fearless and articulate advocate. He was passionate and persuasive—characteristics the power elite found threatening. In a meeting with President Truman in 1946, Robeson demanded that Truman take immediate action to stop the wave of lynchings that were sweeping the South (a flummoxed Truman cut short the meeting). During the 1940s, Robeson's artistic persona melded with his political charisma and commitment. The result was a modern hero to many people. Audiences came to Robeson's concerts not just to see an actor or to hear a singer, but to see and hear a hero. The Othello monologue, delivered with exquisite emotional nuance and vocal range, represented the merger of the man with a great work of art. Its performance represented a determination to overcome.

Swindall notes that in the 1950s, American anti-Communist hysteria brought more pressure to bear upon Robeson. The State Department confiscated his passport, preventing him from working abroad. Though his books and records sold well, his publisher dropped him, as did his record label; he responded by founding his own publishing house and record label. Venue owners refused him permission to perform; he responded by packing parks and churches. Despite this resourcefulness, both official and unofficial blacklisting harmed Robeson financially and prevented him from acting during what should have been a prime era in his career. When the Supreme Court decided that it was unconstitutional for the government to prevent citizens from traveling abroad and Robeson's passport was restored in 1958, he was soon en route to Stratford to open the 1959 season as Othello. The production was widely criticized, but Robeson's performance was praised. He then traveled extensively, visiting the Soviet Union, Australia, and New Zealand; but his failing health led him to retire from public life. Her narrative arc completed, Swindall writes almost nothing about Robeson's life from his retirement in 1963 to his death in 1976.

In addition to the dearth of information about the thirteen years between Robeson's retirement and his death, some scenes that should be central to Swindall's argument (for example, Robeson's appearance before the House Un-American Activities Committee in 1956) are underdeveloped, while others that seem less important (such as a performance at Swarthmore College) are treated with detail. The writing seems at times to lose the storyline, drifting into a relation of history that is not in service of the book's thesis. Still, these small imbalances and diversions are not seriously damaging to The Politics of Paul Robeson's Othello. Overall, Swindall has added a soundly researched and persuasive book to the abundant literature on this intriguing and powerful personality.