reader. writer.

Earlier this year I made time to read what had been highly recommended to me: James, by Percival Everett, a novel based on Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn. I remember rereading Huckleberry Finn not long after I graduated college and found there was far more to it than I recalled (possibly mixing it up with the simpler story of Tom Sawyer). After reading James, I planned to return to Huckleberry Finn to compare the two, but I couldn’t get past the first few pages because I’d prefer to stick with Everett’s version. Twain’s classic was perceptive and powerful in its way, but pales to nothingness now that Everett has told the story through Jim’s eyes.

As you may have guessed from my comments on comfort reads last week, I sometimes dodge or postpone uncomfortable reads. This novel includes at least one scene that made me want to curl up and cover my head, but it is essential to this more accurate portrayal of enslavement in the U.S.

Other moments were sheer delight, such as the children’s lessons in language to manage ignorant oppressors. I especially loved when James tells an imagined Voltaire*, “I hate you.” I’ve had similar moments with Rousseau.

There are some books where you only have to read a few pages to know you are in good hands, and this is one of them. I don’t know if I will never read Huckleberry Finn again, but I know I will return to this book, both to reconnect with these characters and to admire the skill of the author. James won both the National Book Award and the Pulitzer. In my opinion, this book brings honor to those awards, rather than vice versa. 

—–

*If you listen to podcasts, I highly recommend learning more about Voltaire from the first episode of the podcast This Guy Sucked: Voltaire with Eleanor Janega.