Erasure: A Novel

Someday, like a lot of things, we’ll figure this all out. No, it’s not the biggest issue out there. Yes, it’s a good thing the publishing business went through this substantive self-reflection. Went? No. It’s still going on. It’s still being calibrated, I believe, in the summer of 2024. And that’s good. More voices are being encouraged, more effort is being put into finding those voices, and there’s healthy discussion about who gets to tell what stories. My belief is any writer should be permitted to tell anyone’s story. That’s one guy’s view. One white guy’s view. One white writer’s view. But there’s one big caveat with that permission. Writers need to put in the work, do the research, and avoid clichés. Do I know precisely what all that means? No. But I know it when I read it. And if writers are limited to writing about their own kind, well, we’re in for a very dull world when it comes to reading novels. All that said, Percival Everett’s Erasure is a pitch-perfect send-up of the publishing industry during these hand-wringing times of trying to correct decades—er, centuries—of white editors publishing and celebrating white writers. Erasure is a spoof of agents, publishers, and literary critics and their phony posing and precious handwringing over diversity. The novel was published in 2001 (that’s amazing in and of itself, long before the issue reached a fever pitch). I listened to the audio book of Erasure, narrated by Sean Crisden, on a drive last winter and I was transfixed the entire time. The movie version (American Fiction) is wonderful but two things are better about the book. First, the ending. And, second, the book-within-book My Pafology by Stagg R. Leigh. In the written version, My Pafalogy runs a full 80 pages. In the movie, it’s almost an afterthought. My Pafology is the heart of the matter. Stagg R. Leigh is Thelonius “Monk” Ellison’s briefly adopted pseudonym so he can write a novel that is trashier and blacker than his more typical literary fare. He writes My Pafology in disgust at the crap that is drawing praise. Until My Pafology, Monk Ellison had only written smart literary stuff. He is “widely unread.” An agent tells him: “I could sell many books if I’d forget about writing retellings of Euripides and parodies of French poststructuralists and settle down to write the true, gritty real stories of black life. I told him that I was living a black life, far blacker than he could ever know … The hard gritty truth of the matter is that I hardly ever think about race. Those times when I did think about it a lot I did so because of my guilt for not thinking about it. I don’t believe in race. I believe there are people who will shoot me or hang me or cheat me and try to stop me because they do believe in race, because of my brown skin, curly hair, wide nose and slave ancestors. But that’s just the way it is.” And then, in response to the publication of the runaway bestseller We Lives in Da Ghetto by Juanita Mae Jenkins, Monk has is compelled to respond. Juanita Jenkins? The photograph of Jenkins’ face on the cover of Time magazine causes Monk physical pain. He’s got to write. The result is My Pafology. The result is, cha-ching, a hit. And movie deal. And soon Monk winds up on a national critics’ committee picking best novels of the year and finds himself arguing against picking My Pafology. Er, well, it was no longer called My Pafology because Monk had argued that the title should be changed to the simple word F***, most likely to see if the publishers could be pushed around in order to have their name on the precious piece of literature they think they’ve discovered. The layers of skewering and ribbing here are manifold. And then Monk is asked to sit on a committee of writers choosing ‘The Best Novel’ we can see it coming. Of course. Monk must consider his own work, written as Stagg R. Leigh, and there are scenes where “Leigh” must be seen in public and Monk must make sure he’s not unmasked as author of F***. Erasure is rich. Around the thread with My Pafalogy/F***, Monk is dealing with his mother’s mental decline, his sister’s financial stresses caring for their mother, and a brother who is divorced and coming out as gay. Monk will learn about his late father’s duplicity and deceit, too. Monk’s own journey, outside the My Pafalogy/F*** business is, well, the stuff of any main character’s search for identity and a sense of belonging. And those threads, alone, are amply compelling in Everett’s hands. Could a white guy have written Erasure?In a perfect world and with someone very talented, I’d like to think so. But Erasure is so good and so full of subtle observations about race—even though Monk doesn’t believe in race—that it’s a damn good thing that a white guy didn’t try. Someday, like a lot of things, we’ll figure this out.

I liked the writing from the first chapter. It was funny and intelligent without trying too hard. The chapters that were the novel within a novel caught me off guard at first because they were consecutive instead of spread throughout the book. Once I read them that decision made sense, but I can see how it would make it difficult for some people to get through that section of the book. Some of the content went over my head, such as the sections that included dialogue between notable people from the past. The second half of the book, after Monk's novel started to gain popularity, wasn't as interesting to me. His charade was far fetched and the story began to drag. The parts I enjoyed the most were the family dynamics and learning how his upbringing led to his feelings of not fitting in as a child and an adult.

If you enjoy a great story, you'll love this book. If you liked the movie, you'll love the book. If you are like me and truly enjoy a literary challenge, you will be astounded by this book and this writer. Percival Everett is a complete GENIUS. I could read this book 100 times and get more and more deeply into the narrative techniques (formidable and fascinating( as well as the linguistics and many, many threads on the loom. If you are NOT into literary stuff like that, you can STILL enjoy this story 100% without pain or weirdness of any kind. And perhaps that is another level to this genius writer. Most books that challenge me intellectually are very abstract and most people would define as "too avant garde" or "incomprehensible." That is NOT the case with Percival Everett. Interestingly, I did not look up every single thing I did not understand because there were many things I did not understand. Usually I do a lot of looking up, but I just wanted to enjoy the main narrative. But about 3/4 of the way through, I got really interested in one of his several narrative tropes -- the conversations between visual artists -- the bit was SO outlandish, I thought, this can't be real. But since the artist aside had to do with erasing, I had a feeling it was important to the construction of the meaning(s). So I researched the matter and got my brain completely woven into his narrative in a very very deep and satisfying way. Honestly, if I were an English major or a writer, I would do everything in my power to have this man as my mentor. Bravo! I see also that he has many books, including "James" which I am reading now. I am going to read every book he has ever written.

or start with the title, a word much in vogue these days, though this novel was written in 2001. in 1967, the french critic and theorist, roland barthes wrote his essay, The Death of the Author, a glance backward at the philosophical concept of erasure. for barthes’ purposes, a finished book no longer belongs to the author inasmuch as the text is open to the reader’s interpretation, the absent author, in a sense, is dead, erased, but present as is the author, that is, not cancelled as the word erasure is used these days. everett’s protagonist, the author, thelonius ellison, writes fiction influenced by french literary theory of the 1960s and 70s and what was known as the ‘new novel’. early in the story, ellison reads a paper on one of barthe’s books at a conference held in washington dc, the place of ellison’s birth, his mother and sister still living there. as expected, few readers buy the kind of fiction ellison writes. ellison accepts his calling with a zen like mien, working with his hands, doing carpentry, constructing chairs while thinking of philosophy and, as an angler, tying flies while thinking of abstract artists. stress shakes his tranquility when his mother slips into dementia and another black novelist pens a book about black urban life as stereotypical and becomes a literary success, the latter sending ellison into a near rage. he writes the most demeaning novel he can conceive under a pen name, here’s that erasure, gives the manuscript to his agent who wonders if he’s lost his mind along with his integrity, and the rest, well, you have to read the book. it’s a brilliant piece of metafiction, of a story within a story, a parody of ralph ellison’s Invisible Man, of language as theory and culture and how language might look for someone inside dementia, and of what influences writing, the literary influences and non-literary influences.

This book was interesting to read. I mostly read it before I watched the movie. I think the movie will be better. I didn’t understand why the Hitler references, and all the boring English gobbledygook. I felt sad for the main character who was suddenly successful but had no more family in his life and he was alone. If he would have just written books about what was going on in his life or made characters from the people in his own life I’m sure he’d have been much happier and less suicidal feelings than being a hermit. Honestly, I wouldn’t buy this book again if I knew how bad it was. As a disclaimer I’m white, and really think that blacks have the same chance to living a good life the same as a white person does but it’s the decisions one makes in their lives and if you associate with losers you’ll be a loser. You associate with a winner till be a winner. Winning in life is about the choices you make and the life you want to live.

“I decided to see if the store had any of my books… I went to Literature…to Contemporary Fiction… I found a section called African American Studies and there…were four of my books including my Persians of which the only thing ostensibly African American was my jacket photograph… Someone interested in African American Studies would have little interest in my books and would be confused by their presence in the section. Someone looking for an obscure reworking of a Greek tragedy would not consider looking in that section any more than the gardening section. The result in either case, no sale. That [!&#%@] store was taking food from my table.” (p28) Monk, the protagonist of this extraordinary novel, doesn’t generally write “Black” books. Nor should folks expect him to. So why is he so upset that a woman from Akron wrote a best-selling novel about Black life in Harlem? Well, it’s complicated. You may know Percival Everett from his more recent bestseller “James”. If so, you won’t be surprised to learn that “Erasure” challenges assumptions, expectations, stereotypes. No, let me amend that. This novel doesn’t just challenge – it skewers, eviscerates, and destroys. Everett’s list of targets is long: it includes racism, cultural appropriation, commercialism, post-modernism, and elitism. Much of the book is quite funny, with mountains of irony and biting satire. Fair warning, though – “Erasure” is a more difficult read than “James”. It’s edgy, raw, and disorienting in ways that “James” is not. It’s structurally and emotionally complex; you’ll need to expend some elbow grease to hold on to the thread. It simultaneously shouts and whispers, and it oscillates between lyrically poignant and consciously offensive. Expect a multilayered story, abrupt transitions, enigmatic asides (sometimes in French, Latin, or German), subtle metaphors, and shrill dog whistles. All in all it’s rough going at times. But it’s worth the effort.

First this book is eminently readable. The plot is straight-forward. What if the writer of esoteric re-imaginings of Ancient Greeks decided to write a down and dirty racist trope and publish it under a nom de plume? And what if he was also dealing with family trauma at the same time? Thelonius “Monk” Ellison, product of upper class Black society, is doing that. After the unbelievable popularity of a supposed true life story of a black woman from the “ghetto” (yes no one says that anymore), Monk decides to write his own version, just to see what will happen. He succeeds beyond his wildest dreams. The money is needed. His sister has been murdered and left debts. His mother is suffering from Alzheimer’s and needs care. At the same time, Monk bemoans the book’s popularity and is both eager and afraid at being caught in the deception. There are several references to the nature of art that are thought-provoking, as well as the masks we wear that hide our true feelings and our true selves. An excellent read.

"Erasure" is a complex look at race,identity and publishing. The novel is narrated in first person by Thelonious "Monk" Ellison. Monk is the youngest of three children from a prominent east coast black family. He is a Harvard educated writer and holds most favorite son status within his family. Although Monk has published previous novels ranging from a rework of Aeschylus' "The Persians" to a novel featuring black characters, settings and experiences, none of them resulted in top seller status in the way "We's Lives in Da Ghetto" has. "We's Lives in Da Ghetto" was written by a first time novelist and is accepted by the publisher as the "truth" of the black experience. In fact, the success of "We's Lives in Da Ghetto" has caused Monk's publishers to encourage him to abandon his writings on any topic the publishers view as "not black enough". Of course as a black writer Monk can only write about black things. Frustrated by that erroneous notion Monk pens, under the pseudonym Stagg R. Leigh, a novel that highlights just about every black stereotype known to man. The novel was to be an affront to publishers and readers. The book is immediately picked up by a publisher and touted as the most authentic novel of the black experience ever written. The film rights are sold for a handsome amount and Stagg R. Leigh's work is positioned for early release and guaranteed best seller status. At times funny and always insightful, "Erasure" serves not only as an indictment of how racism influences publishing but also as a reminder that there is no such thing as "the" black experience. The writing is sharp, well paced and poignant. This is the first novel I've read by Everrett but it won't be the last. Highly Recommended.