Book Review: "Brother Robert" by Annye C. Anderson

I never really believed in the theory/mythology of Robert Johnson selling his soul to the Devil at the crossroads for his talent at playing the guitar. Not only because this seemed like a myth created because he died young but it also seems like the myth itself [the ‘Devil at the Crossroads’] is actually much older than Robert Johnson and is more used as an excuse to explain things that cannot be explained. The truth is, whatever you believe, Robert Johnson was an immensely talented human being and in this book, his own sister tries to show us why these terrible lies about his life have been used to fill in the gaps to which most people cannot possibly know. We take a look into the life of someone who actually spent time with Johnson, was not only a sister to him but also a good friend of his. One thing I absolutely loved about this book is that she tears down all of these lies and myths in order to reveal something that Robert Johnson was - a human being. I think that she does a brilliant job of voicing why so many people were so very wrong about her brother and the music that he created. I also think she does an incredible job of changing our minds about Robert Johnson as a person. He was not this dark and enigmatic figure who sold his soul to the Devil. He was an intensely talented young man who liked to play the guitar and have a good time. That’s what was so important to me when reading this book.

Let’s take a look at some passages that I thought were absolutely charming about the text. She not only goes through his career but also what he was like as a human being.

“I called him Brother Robert. He called me Baby Sis or Little Girl. We weren’t blood. We were family. First time I remember Brother Robert, he helped us move to Memphis from the country in 1929. My little legs couldn’t make it up the big staircase leading to our new house. I felt someone scoop me up and carry me. On his long, lanky legs, he took those steps two at a time. From then on, he was around sometimes for the rest of his life. Those were the years Brother Robert was into his music. He used to sit out on those tall steps and pick his guitar, way up in the air. I saw him go from wearing patches to pinstripes, clodhoppers to Florsheims. I knew him when he supposedly agrees to his deal with the devil, while he made his records, right up to when the telegram came to our sister’s house with the news that he had died. I don’t recognise the person in the stories other people tell. I can’t say all he did or didn’t do, I didn’t have him in my pocket. But nobody else living today grew up with him as I did. I wanted people to knew what the real Robert Johnson was like, how I remember him from my childhood. Some say he was a vagabond. They make it seem like he was alone in the world. He did hobo, but he was not without a loving family.”

When it comes to Robert Johnson’s mythology, his sister refuses to even address it and when she does, she does not like to talk about it as if these people knew anything about the real Robert Johnson. And she’s right. They didn’t know anything about him. The way she articulates her disgust with these myths and fantasies always made me feel bad for engaging in them - especially that Netflix Documentary entitled “The Devil at the Crossroads”.

“Children were devilish, and I was among them, no angel - but the old folks thought I was. I got into some fights. Sister Carrie and my mother taught me to hit, but only to hit back and never to throw the first lick. I was a skinny child but well built and strong. Everybody talked about the athletic figure I had. I danced and I skipped, and I jumped rope. So I was in good shape. And we walked everywhere, didn’t have bus fare. I did that for years and I was never flabby. I wore Buster Brown Shoes and pleated dresses…”

When she talks about herself, there is a nostalgia about it. You can see her standing there, possibly with her brother Robert Johnson, wearing a pleated dress with him dressed in the picture’s clothes that she used for the cover of this book - such a different picture to the ones we have seen of him with one unconfirmed still as to whether it is actually him. The photographs shows him relaxed and smiling, whereas the only photograph I have seen of him is the one where he is seated in a pinstripe suit and hat.

This should give you a good idea of how great this book actually is when it comes to the truth about the subject of Robert Johnson. It takes the myths about him and tears them apart, filling in the gaps with actual information and anecdotal evidence of the time he was once, very much alive.