A Book A Week

What's cooler than being cool? Colson Whitehead may have the answer.

Over the last several years, the two-time Pulitzer Prize winner has been writing one of the finest trilogies in contemporary fiction. Through the story of furniture salesman and occasional crook Ray Carney, Whitehead's Harlem Trilogy has chronicled a changing New York City across the 1960s and '70s with equal parts wit, insight, and swagger. Earlier this week, that journey came to an end with the release of the aptly titled Cool Machine.

True to form, the novel is thoughtful, zany, and effortlessly cool. As with the previous two books in the series, Whitehead's publisher graciously provided me with a review copy. I won't bury the lead here. Cool Machine brings Ray Carney's story to a satisfying close.

It's the early 1980s, and the world looks a lot different than it did when we first met Ray Carney in Harlem Shuffle. Back then, he was a young furniture salesman trying to build a legitimate business, no small feat for a Black man in 1960s Harlem. His dream was simple. Provide a better life for his wife and children. But when honest work wasn't enough to pay the bills, and a family member found himself in over his head, Ray was pulled into the city's criminal underworld. Once he crossed that line, there was no turning back.

Now, Ray has become something of an institution in his neighborhood. His furniture store has grown from a modest storefront into the kind of place customers visit to furnish an entire home. But while Ray has found stability, Harlem continues to change around him. New buildings rise, old neighborhoods disappear, and the gap between those with money and those without only widens. On paper, Ray has everything he ever wanted. His children are grown, his business is thriving, and he's earned the respect of his community. Yet beneath that success lingers a familiar itch. The careful planning. The impossible score. The thrill of getting away with it. For a man like Ray Carney, it's awfully hard to walk away from that life for good.

Cool Machine brings Whitehead's Harlem Trilogy to a close with the same wit, energy, and exuberance that defined its opening while embracing a more reflective tone that suits Ray at this stage of life. Across three novels, he's evolved alongside Harlem itself. He began as a reluctant criminal, came to relish the thrill of the score, and now finds himself wondering whether there's still a place for him in a city that's changing faster than he is.

Whitehead weaves that quiet introspection effortlessly into the humor, action, and razor-sharp social commentary that have become hallmarks of the series. It's rare for a trilogy to entertain while also saying something meaningful about the people and places at its center, and this one accomplishes both with remarkable confidence. I'll certainly miss spending time with Ray Carney, but I have no doubt I'll be there for whatever story Colson Whitehead decides to write next. 

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

Colson Whitehead is one of those rare authors whose new books immediately jump to the top of my reading list. As the only living writer to win the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction twice, he's more than earned the acclaim. Novels like The Underground Railroad and The Nickel Boys are powerful examinations of America's history. No matter the book, one of the things I admire most about Whitehead is his willingness to surprise readers.

His previous novel, Harlem Shuffle, was proof of that. Rather than another sweeping historical drama, Whitehead delivered a stylish crime novel set in 1960s Harlem. It still explored race and class, but with a sharper sense of humor and a cast of unforgettable characters. Even if the pacing occasionally wandered, I was completely invested in Ray Carney, a furniture salesman trying to build an honest life while never quite escaping the pull of crime.

So I was thrilled to learn that Crook Manifesto wasn't just another novel, but the second installment in a trilogy following Carney. Whitehead returns to Harlem in the 1970s, where both the neighborhood and its inhabitants continue to evolve.

The novel unfolds across three interconnected stories set several years apart. At first, Carney appears to have left his criminal past behind. He owns the building housing his furniture store, his business is thriving, and he's determined to stay on the straight and narrow. Then his daughter asks for Jackson 5 tickets, forcing him to call in an old favor from a police fixer who has a few requests of his own.

From there, Whitehead broadens the story's scope. We catch back up with Pepper as he finds himself providing security on the set of a Blaxploitation film, rubbing shoulders with celebrities, criminals, and all sorts of colorful personalities. The final section brings Carney and Pepper back together to investigate a suspicious fire, sending them deep into the corruption simmering beneath Harlem's surface.

What I appreciated most about Crook Manifesto is the way Whitehead builds on the first novel. Harlem Shuffle was largely about Ray Carney trying to decide what kind of man he wanted to be. Here, that internal struggle has largely disappeared. Carney understands who he is now. The question is no longer whether he'll cross the line, but how often—and for whom. That evolution gives the novel a very different feel. 

Dividing the story into three separate episodes makes it read almost like a collection of connected novellas, each capturing Harlem at a different moment in the decade. Whitehead uses those changing times to explore politics, corruption, race, and the shifting identity of the neighborhood, all while balancing surprisingly sharp humor. A fried chicken heist, of all things, became one of my favorite sequences in the entire book.

Like many middle chapters, Crook Manifesto doesn't offer the same sense of resolution as its predecessor. At times, it feels more interested in positioning the pieces for the trilogy's conclusion than standing completely on its own. Even so, Whitehead's prose remains as sharp as ever, his characters are endlessly entertaining, and his portrait of 1970s Harlem is impossible not to get lost in. It may not surpass Harlem Shuffle, but it left me eager to see how Ray Carney's story ultimately comes to an end.

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)