George Lamming consistently examines the connection between colonial powers and their colonies, focusing on how this dynamic affects the colonized people. His entire body of work delves into these themes. His first novel, In the Castle of My Skin, fittingly explores this relationship through the perspective of a nine-year-old boy in a small rural village in Barbados.

Colonial powers do not just rely on brute force, like military or governmental authority, to control the colonized. European and Islamic colonizers often felt the need to "spread the light" of their civilization or religion—a sentiment echoed by many of their supporters. Rudyard Kipling's well-known poem "The White Man's Burden" embodies this ideology. However, more skeptical observers argue that these educational efforts function as a means of psychological control over the colonized. Colonizers frequently set up extensive educational systems to instill their values and objectives, rewarding those who conform. In schools, colonized individuals learn the colonizer's language—often at the cost of their own—and are taught subjects deemed important by the colonizers. Promising students might receive scholarships for further education, leading to secure government jobs. Those less academically inclined might be recruited into the colonizer's military or police forces. At every level, the colonizing power seeks to suppress any potential resistance, both physical and intellectual.

The colonizer's ability to reward compliance and punish dissent is further complicated by inherent differences between the colonizers and the colonized. In Ireland, England's first colony, religion was the dividing factor. In Barbados, the distinction is racial. Lamming notes in his introduction:

Plantation Slave Society conspired to destroy ancestral African culture ... resulting in a fractured consciousness, a deep split in its sensibility that now raised challenging issues of language and values; the entire question of cultural allegiance between the imposed norms of White Power and the fragmented memory of the African masses: between White instruction and Black imagination.

Throughout the novel, whether in the boys' school or in the interactions between villagers and the landlord, Lamming shows how the colonizers devalue African heritage while glorifying white English culture.

Lamming's book delves into the numerous ways colonizer values are embedded within a native population. In Chapter 3, he presents one of the most fundamental examples: Empire Day at the elementary school. During this holiday, which celebrates and glorifies the ties between England and its colonies, the boys sing "God Save the King" and learn about Barbados's ("Little England's") "steadfast and constant" relationship to Big England. No sign of dissent or irony is heard from these children until one boy shares his theory of the "shadow king." He tells them, "The English are fond of shadows. They never do anything in the open." Unknowingly, this boy introduces the idea of resistance.

When a colonizing power establishes control, it usually starts by enforcing its own language upon the people it subjugates. To deter any potential plots against them, colonizers often prohibit the use of any language other than their own in public settings. In certain cases, such as with American slaves or the Kurdish people in Turkey, individuals are even penalized for speaking the unofficial language. Colonial educational systems prioritize teaching the colonizer's language, offering rewards to students who excel in it. A notable example is Lamming, who benefited from scholarships and teaching opportunities. Language can serve as a tool of power, as Trumper highlights:

"If you were truly educated and could command the language like a ship's captain, if you could make the language do what you wanted it to do, say what you wanted it to say, then you wouldn't have to feel at all. You could eliminate...

In Lamming's novel, the issue of race is intricately linked to colonialism. European colonizers perceived people with darker skin as primitive, inferior, and threatening. For a long time, slavery was the cornerstone of the West Indian economy. Scholars continue to debate whether European racism was a precursor to African slavery or if it was developed to rationalize the need for slavery. Regardless, by the 20th century, the British West Indies had two distinct social classes: white landowners and professionals of English descent, contrasted with black manual laborers of African heritage.

Racist ideologies promoting black inferiority were prevalent, often disguised under the guise of the "white man's burden." This belief suggested that benevolent white settlers were enhancing the lives of so-called savages in Africa and the Americas. In regions like Barbados, where more than eighty percent of the population is of African descent, individuals are encouraged to assimilate into white society through diligence and education. Achieving success is equated with becoming metaphorically more "white," while those who remain at the lower rungs of the social hierarchy are stigmatized with their "blackness." In the second chapter, Lamming illustrates the social divide between black overseers and villagers:

The phrase "low-down nigger people" was specifically crafted by the overseers. It depicted an adversary, and that adversary was My People. My people are branded as low-down nigger people. My people are said to resent seeing their own succeed. This was the overseer's language. This was the language of the civil servant.

The concept of race, heavy with social and political consequences, draws a line between all that is deemed positive and negative within the community. Later in the narrative, when the boys witness the landlord's daughter and a sailor in a compromising situation, the sailor calls for the overseer to capture the "native boys." The landlord's daughter then accuses black "vagabonds," not the white officer, of compromising her virtue. The villagers are so entrenched in their belief of racial inferiority that even the Old Woman curses these imagined "vagabonds," unable to fathom that the landlord's daughter might be deceitful.

In the Castle of My Skin masterfully intertwines character, theme, and point of view to explore the communal identity of its protagonist and the broader ramifications for the community. This novel employs a unique narrative structure, alternating between first and third-person perspectives, which serves as a crucial tool for the author. This approach not only highlights the protagonist's intertwined fate with his community but also frames the moral and literary discourse surrounding their collective journey.

Though the novel is built on an autobiographical foundation, it goes beyond merely recounting personal history or conforming to the conventions of a bildungsroman. Instead, it uses this framework to narrate the larger story of a village's decline. The narrator’s increasing awareness of his community's plight—sharper in hindsight than during the actual events—forms a vital component of the story. This dual perspective reinforces the narrative’s depth, merging personal and communal voices into a cohesive whole.

Critic Sandra Pouchet Paquet’s insights into The Pleasures of Exile resonate with this approach, as they can be applied equally to In the Castle of My Skin and the character of G., seen as its "author." Paquet observes, “His dissenting voice is personal and collective.” Lamming positions himself as both a chronicler and interpreter of his historical context, presenting his narrative as a counterpoint to previously dominant "imperialist" histories of his island and region. Through this lens, Lamming’s subjective recollections become a tool for corrective storytelling, inviting readers to reconsider the narratives imposed by colonial perspectives.

In George Lamming's novel, the narrator's observations of characters highlight the integral role individuals play in shaping the community's identity. This narrative technique, perhaps influenced by Lamming's youthful perspective during the novel's creation, eschews subtlety in favor of a more explicit approach. This approach, albeit straightforward, effectively reinforces the theme of communal identity through repetition.

The phrase "Three, thirteen, thirty" is a notable example, appearing several times within the initial chapters. It serves as a symbolic reference to representative women of the village, emphasizing their collective role. As the story unfolds, this phrase expands its significance, embodying the idea of collectivity at large. These numbers become emblematic of the community's endurance and continuity. "Three, thirteen, thirty. It does not matter. They come and go to perpetuate the custom of this corner." These words encapsulate the cyclical nature of life within the village, where traditions persist through generations.

Lamming captures this communal perpetuity by illustrating how individuals are absorbed into the village's routines and customs. "Once a week, black pudding and souse" becomes a ritual, a pattern sustained by its participants. The narrative suggests that even within the depths of night, the community's essence embraces and encompasses its members, as reflected in the intimate scenes in the woods. This portrayal underscores the interplay between personal identity and collective existence, demonstrating how individual lives are woven into the greater tapestry of communal heritage.

The journey from childhood to self-awareness is fraught with moments of realization and the painful shedding of innocence. This theme is poignantly explored in In the Castle of My Skin, where the protagonist, G., navigates his formative years amidst the backdrop of a changing world. The middle chapters of the novel capture a critical transitional period, marked by the introspective musings of G. and his friends as they grapple with existential questions. These moments serve as a bridge to the climactic events that unfold toward the novel’s end.

One particularly symbolic scene underscores this shift through G.'s fixation on a pebble, which he had picked up from the beach. He arbitrarily decided that the pebble was something he must not lose, placing it carefully under a leaf for safekeeping. This seemingly trivial act takes on profound meaning as it echoes the universal adolescent experience of cherishing objects or moments that symbolize a fleeting innocence. "It had become one of those things one can’t bear to see for the last time," G. reflects, acutely aware of the passage of time and the impending loss of his childlike perceptions.

The narrative then delves into G.'s emotional turmoil when he discovers that the pebble is gone. This loss sharpens a sense of impermanence that had begun to take root the evening before with the receipt of letters bringing news of change. This moment becomes a permanent marker of his growing awareness that he is leaving behind the familiar comforts of his childhood. "In the evening I had read the letters and it seemed there were several things, intimate and endearing, which I was going to see for the last time," he laments, encapsulating the bittersweet nature of growing up.

Thus, through the lens of G.'s experiences, In the Castle of My Skin articulates the profound journey of losing innocence and gaining self-awareness, a journey that resonates universally, capturing the essence of maturation and the inevitable march toward adulthood.

As G. and Pa prepare to bid each other farewell, they find themselves at pivotal junctures in their lives, symbolizing both personal and universal themes of departure and transformation. Pa's poignant observation, "We both settin’ forth tomorrow.... I to my last restin’-place, an’ you into the wide wide world," encapsulates a moment of profound transition. G. is poised to leave for a teaching position in Trinidad, a step that signifies not only a physical departure but an embarkation on a journey of self-discovery and meaning. Pa, on the other hand, is entering the Alms House, marking the end of his journey in the familiar world he knows.

This scene is emblematic of the broader themes of change woven throughout the narrative, highlighting both the personal growth and the painful transformations experienced by the characters. G.'s nurturing relationship with Pa has been a significant part of his life, but now he faces the bittersweet reality of moving on. The recurring feeling G. experiences, that he is witnessing "the last of something," underscores the inevitable nature of change.

The novel explores these themes through the lens of G.'s evolving self-awareness and the communal upheaval faced by the villagers. As G. becomes more conscious of his individuality, he simultaneously experiences a deepening sense of exile and alienation from his insular community. This duality of growth and separation is mirrored in the broader societal changes affecting the displaced villagers, who must confront their own transformations and losses. Thus, the parting between G. and Pa becomes a microcosm of the larger, universal experiences of parting and change that permeate the human condition.

The concept of the "castle" in the narrative becomes a powerful symbol of self-identity and societal structures. G.’s personal understanding of himself as a "castle" suggests an internal fortress safeguarding his individuality and creative spirit. This inner citadel stands in contrast to the more tangible, yet imposing, castles around him, such as Mr. Creighton’s estate on the hill, which dictates the social hierarchy until Mr. Slime's consortium takes over. While Mr. Creighton’s castle signifies power and order, G.’s conceptual castle represents a more personal realm of introspection and self-awareness.

Through this symbolic "castle," G. begins to cultivate an artistic consciousness that offers him a sense of autonomy. This growing awareness leads to a solitary position, yet it provides him with a vantage point from which to observe the world and his place within it. It is through interaction with others that G.'s life will find its true significance, as his journey in understanding and articulating meaning becomes intertwined with his relationships.

Meanwhile, the villagers around him, especially figures like Pa, experience displacement and loss of their traditional foundations. In contrast, G. finds temporary refuge in the stability of his internal "castle," which grants him the courage to eventually engage more fully with the world beyond its walls. This inner strength may allow him to venture forth with newfound confidence, ready to face the challenges of connecting personal identity with the broader social landscape.