A Book A Week

Colson Whitehead stands out as a rare and exceptional talent that most authors can only aspire to be. He holds the remarkable distinction of being the sole living writer to have achieved the prestigious Pulitzer Prize in Fiction twice. His acclaimed novels, The Underground Railroad and The Nickel Boys, offer profound and vivid portrayals of America's history of racism.

In a departure from those celebrated works, Whitehead's last novel, Harlem Shuffle, took a different narrative path. Set in the 1960s, it followed the story of Ray Carney, a furniture salesman in the vibrant heart of Harlem. While the exploration of themes related to race and class persisted, the overall tone of the book shifted toward a more playful and ironic sensibility. Despite a few instances of uneven pacing, I was still captivated by the depiction of a man teetering on the edge between ethical righteousness and a life of crime.

As an ardent fan of Whitehead's skillful writing, I was already committed to exploring whatever literary journey he would embark on after Harlem Shuffle. To my pleasant surprise, his latest offering, Crook Manifesto, was released as the second chapter in an anticipated trilogy centered around Ray Carney. True to the essence of the first book, Whitehead once more whisks his readers away to the vibrant streets of Harlem, this time capturing the city during the dynamic political and societal shifts that unfolded in the 1970s.

This second installment is structured into three distinct vignettes, each unfolding within a specific year. The initial narrative segment commences in 1971. Ray Carney has now assumed ownership of the building housing his furniture store. With the passage of time, Carney has matured and gained wisdom, choosing to abandon his shady past and pursue an honest business approach. While he sometimes yearns for the days of illicit gains and effortless wealth, the integrity and honor accompanying his newfound approach bring a sense of security and personal satisfaction that he finds difficult to ignore.

This newfound stability is disrupted when his teenage daughter, Mae, presents an impossible request—tickets to the Jackson 5 concert. This poses a challenge, as Carney lacks a lawful means to fulfill her wish. Determined to navigate this dilemma, Carney contacts his former police connection, Munson, a skillful fixer. Munson, however, has his own demands to make of Carney. Staying on the path of legitimacy becomes increasingly difficult, and the stakes rise to a potentially fatal level.

The subsequent two sections further capture Harlem's ongoing transformation. In 1973, Carney's previous partner in crime, Pepper, grapples with assembling a dependable crew for planned criminal activities. This situation compels Pepper to secure an honest job as security for a Blaxploitation film being shot in the neighborhood. However, Pepper's expectations of glamour are met with an unexpected immersion in a surreal world of Hollywood celebrities, emerging comedians, and celebrity drug dealers.

The final part unfolds in 1975, coinciding with America's bicentennial celebration. As Carney contemplates a July 4th ad that aligns with his moral compass ("Two Hundred Years of Getting Away with It!"), his wife Elizabeth advocates for her childhood friend, former assistant D.A. turned aspiring politician Alexander Oakes. Following a fire that inflicts severe injuries on a tenant, Carney seeks Pepper's assistance in identifying the culprit, plunging the unscrupulous duo into a confrontation with the city's corrupt, violent, and ethically compromised underbelly.

Following the relatively self-contained narrative of Harlem Shuffle, Crook Manifesto faces the challenge of organically expanding the character's journey, a feat deftly achieved by Colson Whitehead. Where the initial book witnessed protagonist Ray Carney grappling with his descent into criminality, this installment depicts the character embracing the inevitability of this path as the changing world demands adaptation. Divided into shorter vignettes, the book offers a collection-of-stories feel, interwoven through the vivid Harlem backdrop, historical events, and the multifaceted main character. With an amplified humor element, Whitehead juxtaposes weighty societal shifts with moments of levity, such as a hilariously entertaining fried chicken heist. However, in line with similar middle installments of trilogies, a sense of closure is lacking, leaving the narrative feeling abrupt and incomplete. Perhaps this impression will evolve with the final book's context, but for now, Crook Manifesto is a darkly humorous exploration of a man's evolution in response to changing times—imperfect yet compelling.

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2023, 53)

"He'd spent so much time trying to keep one half of himself separate from the other half, and now they were set to collide."

How do you follow up a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel? If you're Colson Whitehead, the answer is easy. You simply write another Pulitzer winner. That's what he did with his last two efforts, The Underground Railroad and The Nickel Boys. Each of those books told powerful stories dealing with slavery and racism, unflinching portraits of a nation's tragic history. I adored both novels, and have been not so patiently waiting for Whitehead to write something new. The hype surrounding his first Pulitzer win was massive, so you can imagine the anticipation with which the world has waited for this follow-up to his second. The fine folks at Doubleday granted me access to an advanced copy of Whitehead's latest book Harlem Shuffle. While this new work is not nearly as serious as his previous two efforts, it is nonetheless impactful. 

Ray Carney is a man between two worlds. In 1959 Harlem, everybody knows everybody. To most of the community, Ray is known as the upstanding owner of Carney's Furniture, a modest business on 125th street that sells good quality furniture at a reasonable price. It isn't much, but it's an honest living. Could things be better? Of course. Despite a decent living, money can be tight. Ray and his wife live in a small apartment that the impending birth of their second child will officially render too small. This is where the other side to Ray begins to emerge. You see, he's the son of a well-known crook, the kind of man who is completely counter to the honest businessman Ray has worked to become. Ray's struggled to carve his own path away from the shadow of his father for years, but the need for a higher cash flow is about to darken that path again. 

It begins innocently enough. Ray's cousin, Freddie, periodically shows up to the store with a random piece of jewelry. Ray doesn't ask where the items come from, but he's happy to take them off Freddie's hands. A little extra income off the books never hurts. But then Freddie begins to escalate things. He joins a group of gangsters in a plot to rob a prominent hotel and volunteers Ray to hold and sell whatever loot is gained. The heist goes off with plenty of complications that place Ray in the sight of the worst kind of people. Suddenly his quiet family business becomes the meeting place for criminals, dirty cops, and other lowlifes who call Harlem home. As the novel progresses, Ray struggles to balance the two sides of himself, the cracks between them threatening to dismantle his entire livelihood. 

Harlem Shuffle sees Colson Whitehead writing a story that places his readers directly into the heart of Harlem during the early 1960s. His descriptions of the place and people who inhabit it are as real as any of his previous characters, the kind of folks whom you could easily see passing on the streets as you visit the city. There's a lightness and sense of fun to this novel that wasn't present in his previous two works but don't let that fool you. Beneath the surface lies the kind of thoughtful commentary on race, class, and morality that readers have come to expect from this celebrated author. I hesitate to say that I enjoyed this book as much as I did other Whitehead novels. The opening portions of the book took a bit too long to establish the story for my taste. Still, the latter half of the novel had me breezing through the pages, breathlessly reading to see how the ending would play out. The uneven pace of this one is perhaps more noticeable because of the stellar plotting of Whitehead's last two books. Still, there's plenty about Harlem Shuffle to marvel at. Sometimes a great author writes a great book while other times they merely write a good book. I think that's the case with this one. It won't be my favorite book written by Colson Whitehead, but it certainly is a joy to read. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2021, 33)

A couple of years ago, I was blown away by Colson Whitehead's The Underground Railroad. That award-winning novel combined the dark history of slavery with fantastical surrealism that completely stunned me. Whitehead cleverly imagined a world where the underground railroad was an actual railroad that carried slaves through a tunnel system under America. Each stop illustrated a different time period of African American oppression. That monumental novel was the kind of read that lingered in the back of my mind and left me wanting more. In The Nickel Boys, Whitehead's latest novel, he forgoes the fantasy of his previous work in favor of historical fiction that stays rooted in the harsh realities of its subject matter.

Elwood Curtis is coming into his own as an upstanding citizen within segregated Tallahassee. He never really knew his parents, but his stern grandmother has ensured he toes the line. He diligently commits to his studies in school and works hard after school as a shopkeep. At night, Elwood plays a record of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. speaking on the hope of equal rights. Emboldened by the words of Dr. King and the no-nonsense guidance of his grandmother, Elwood's future is looking bright. He's even been selected to attend college classes. Unfortunately, Elwood is about to get a grim reminder of how unjust the world can be.

A classic case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time leaves Elwood charged with a crime he didn't commit. Rather than be imprisoned in the traditional sense, Elwood is sent to The Nickel Academy, a school that claims to rehabilitate troubled boys. He tries to make the best of a bad situation. The manicured grounds and meticulously maintained buildings of Nickel shine with the promise of providing the young men with a structured path to reentering society. To Elwood, it seems simple enough.  If you follow the rules and do the time, you will be set free. In reality, Nickel follows the same cruel pattern of corruptness, racism, violence, and torture that was all too common during the Jim Crow era. The bright optimism that permeates Elwood's being is about to be shattered by the malice of racist oppression.

The Nickel Boys sees Colson Whitehead return to many of the themes that were in The Underground Railroad in a way that is decidedly different from that novel. There's no magical railroad to lead Elwood to safety. He's stuck in the agonizing hell of Nickel, and we live every moment of that pain and hopelessness with him. Whitehead based Nickel on the real and equally appalling Dozier School for Boys which only ceased operation back in 2011. Since the closing, mass graves of the abused youth who spent time there have been discovered, adding another ripple to the United State's dark history of racism.

Whitehead deserves much credit for his ability to balance the horrors of Nickel with the youthful antics of the students inhabiting it. Each scene that humanized the boys as normal, relatable kids only made the scenes of unflinching torture all the more harrowing. On a larger scale, Nickel can be seen as a metaphor to the United States itself. From the outside looking in, there's the pristine exterior of promise and hope. It is only in the shadows of the inside that the darker proclivities are revealed. Stories like the one told in The Nickel Boys are essential to understanding American history and the struggles with race and oppression that exist to this day. Through his splendid writing, Colson Whitehead continues to shine his authorial light upon these dark, but fundamental subjects.

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads.
(2019, 28)

With the start of a new year comes the annual barrage of best and worst lists. I'm happy to add mine into the ring. Out of the 52 books that I read in 2017, I've chosen 5 as my favorite books of the year. Here they are, listed in no particular order.

The Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead

This was one of my most anticipated novels on my TBR list, and it did not disappoint. Through the profound story of an escaped slave, Whitehead crafts a metaphor for the treatment of African American people throughout history. It is a literary masterclass that kept me riveted from start to finish. 

Equally effective as a psychological thriller and character study, Chaon's novel tells the story of one man's decent into madness. The subject matter is dark. The novel is full of sexual and emotional abuse, drug addiction, and mental degradation, but those who can stomach the darkness are in for a real treat. 

A lot of fiction has been written about World War II, but Keirnan's latest novel offers one that is poignant and deeply moving. The story follows Emma, a young baker who has become a beacon of hope for a war-ridden town. Throughout the book, she struggles to surmount her own personal doubts to live up to the expectations of those she loves. It is a story that has haunted me since finishing the last page. 

In my review, I called The Force "the best thriller of the year". I've read countless other thrillers during 2017, but none came close to topping this one. Winslow writes of Denny Malone, a good cop turned bad. His attempt to maintain justice and keep his power within the hierarchy of the NYPD is one that you can't look away from. 

This is a book that almost defies description. It tells the story of a young girl grappling with the loss of her uncle to AIDs. It is a coming of age story that touches upon love, loss, and acceptance of others. Beautifully written and emotionally captivating, Tell the Wolves I'm Home will leave you contemplating the multitude of layers it holds long after you complete it. 

"If you want to see what this nation is all about, I always say, you have to ride the rails. Look outside as you speed through, and you'll find the true face of America."

Colson Whitehead's The Underground Railroad has taken the publishing world by storm. It began as a surprise selection for Oprah's book club nearly one month before it was slated to be published. In a logistical feat, the novel was on the shelves shortly thereafter and began its reign as a commercial and critical juggernaut. The book was voted in as a historical themed selection for The Next Best Book Club's monthly discussion on Goodreads, a discussion that I'm leading all month long. This provided me the perfect excuse to dive into Whitehead's novel and see what all the hype is about.

The novel opens in the Antebellum South on the Randall Plantation, a farm known more for its appalling treatment of its slaves than the harvest they produce. Cora is no stranger to those horrors. She's grown up as one of the Randall's servants and seen how the mistreatment of her peers gives the Randall brothers a sick pleasure. This goes beyond simple punishment. It is not uncommon for slaves to be summoned for a beating as a form of entertainment for the brothers and their guests. Whitehead writes of this sadistic torture with detailed descriptions that make no attempts to shield readers from the unabashed vulgarity of this history.

Miraculously, Cora clings to the hope that one day she will escape the bonds of the Randall Plantation. It seems like an impossible dream, especially when she's seen the brutal executions of those who tried to escape in the past, but Cora has a secret weapon. Years ago, Cora's mother escaped the plantation and was never heard from again. Even the famed slave catcher Ridgeway was unable to find her. Cora is bitter that her mother left her to fend for herself, but she clings to the thought that if her mom could escape, she can too.

Cora's dreams come to fruition when another slave, Caesar, tells her of his plan to leave. He has made contact with a man who can grant the pair access to the infamous underground railroad. In Whitehead's world, this is not merely a network of brave abolitionists, but an actual railroad built in tunnels across the US. Leaving the plantation marks the beginning of a journey that is even more perilous than the unenviable life of servitude. With each stop on the railroad, Cora faces new obstacles that cause her to question the price of her own freedom. On a deeper level, Whitehead seems bring into question what true freedom even is.

The Underground Railroad is novel of contradictions. It is rich in its bleakness. It is a novel that is difficult to read, but impossible to put down. Whitehead constructs his story in a version of history that serves as a metaphor for the treatment of African Americans. His focus on a single character allows him to merge the expansive history of injustice into a story that is more easily absorbed. As such, the action of Cora's escape works on two levels. One, as the story of a thrilling cat and mouse chase between slave and slave catcher, and two, as a larger portrait of systemic racism. The Underground Railroad is a masterful novel that is sure to spark passionate discussion and debate for years to come. I rarely provide a universal recommendation of a novel to readers of different tastes, but I will not hesitate to do so with this one. Read this book!

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads.

(2017, 31)