I need a valium after reading this.
I’ve written in this space before and in other places about my concern when white authors write from the perspective of non-white characters. Obviously, people writing trans-racially is not uncommon, nor is it necessarily a bad thing. Many great works of literature would be lost without folks doing this. And yet, considering the strong power dynamics of white supremacy in the United States (and frankly, the globe), a more natural distance separates colonizer from the colonized, no matter how well intentioned.
Fortunately for the reader, Dorothy Hughes is keenly aware of the power dynamics and, though she can never understand the perspective of a black man, she writes this book with the nuance of one who does a good job trying. Being a white dude, I could never understand this perspective either and yet I had a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach as Dr. Densmore lurches from scene-to-scene, desperate to prove his innocence, yet wary of how far he can take his passion in a society dominated by whites. Every encounter scrutinized, no one to be trusted, not even the white lawyer supposedly on his side.
What makes this more interesting is it was written during the dawn of Civil Rights in 1963. Change was in the air and there was talk in white society about how things were getting better for blacks. This was evident in some of the white characters who lamented the circumstances with Dr. Densmore, essentially saying We can’t act like racists in public anymore. But the Movement provides White America with less of a stop sign and more of a yield. There’s a perpetual air of suspicion around Dr. Densmore; Hughes accurately gets how black men are often demonized and sexualized by whites who make them out to be big, scary monsters.
All of this would be well and good but on top of everything, the mystery/thriller aspect is taught, focused, and keeps you on your feet until the final pages.
I will be thinking about this one for a lonnnnnng time.
