When discussing Nancy Cunard's landmark anthology Negro, it has become almost obligatory to start by making two observations that are perhaps not unrelated. First, scholars tend to emphasise the size of this expansive, multidisciplinary volume, which includes 385 illustrations and essays by over 150 international contributors, with commentary on topics as diverse as history, education, anthropology, colonialism, lynching, music, boxing, and debt peonage in Europe, the United States, South America, the Caribbean, and Africa. Secondly, they note the anthology's critical neglect.Published in London in 1934, Negro has been described by Brent Hayes Edwards as the only anthology to emerge in the interwar period that 'attempt [ed] to document discourses of black internationalism in a manner that would combine the political -and more particularly the communist -with the poetic, the musical, the vernacular, the historical, the sculptural, and the ethnological'. 1 If Alain Locke's anthology The New Negro (1925) secured its canonical status by reinforcing the cultural nationalist agenda of the New Negro Renaissance, Negro, with its uneasy assemblage of Communist politics, anthropological cultural description, and exoticism, has occupied a marginal position in accounts of black history and culture, and transcultural modernisms. Recent critical interventions by Jeremy Braddock, Carla Kaplan, and Peter Kalliney demonstrate that interest in the transnational and conceptual implications of Negro is gathering pace, but there is still no comprehensive analysis of the anthology, which pays detailed attention to patterns of incongruity and juxtaposition or the relationships established between specific contributions and between part and whole. 2 Moreover, with the notable exceptions of Maroula Joannou and Peter Kalliney, few critics have attended to the political and cultural networks from which the anthology