Percival Everett's James: A Bold Review

Percival Everett, a Distinguished Professor of English at the University of Southern California, has crafted a prolific career spanning over thirty books, including Erasure (adapted into the Oscar-nominated American Fiction), The Trees (shortlisted for the Booker Prize), and Dr. No. His latest work, James (2024), a Pulitzer Prize and National Book Award winner, has been hailed by The New York Times and The Atlantic as a transformative reimagining of Mark Twain’s Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Set in the antebellum South, it shifts the narrative to Jim, the enslaved man, now called James, offering a first-person perspective on his fight for freedom.

The novel’s thesis posits that identity, particularly under oppression, is a performance shaped by survival, yet true agency emerges through self-expression and resistance. By centering James, Everett challenges historical silencing, giving voice to a marginalized figure. This book is a must-read because it serves as a wake-up call, exposing the ground reality of systemic injustice while celebrating human resilience. Its blend of humor, horror, and philosophical depth makes it essential for anyone to grapple with identity and justice, especially in a world still playing catch-up to equality.

James opens with a striking literary device: “THE NOTEBOOK OF DANIEL DECATUR EMMETT” (Everett, 2024, p. 1), featuring minstrel song lyrics that frame the novel’s critique of racial performance. James, a 27-year-old enslaved man in Hannibal, Missouri, learns he is to be sold to New Orleans, separating him from his wife Sadie and daughter Lizzie. “I was as much scared as angry, but where does a slave put anger?” (Everett, 2024, p. 35) captures his dilemma. He flees to Jackson Island, where he meets Huck Finn, who has faked his death to escape his abusive father. “Huck was so excited about the prospect of adventure that he failed to see I was running for my life” (Everett, 2024, p. 47) highlights their differing stakes.

The novel argues that identity is a survival mechanism, performed through code-switching. James uses a “slave filter,” speaking “the correct incorrect grammar” (Everett, 2024, p. 12) around white people to ensure safety: “White folks expect us to sound a certain way and it can only help if we don’t disappoint them” (Everett, 2024, p. 12). Privately, he is erudite, engaging in dream dialogues with philosophers like Voltaire and Locke: “I have lived my life under the gaze of the white man, pretending he is my master” (Everett, 2024, p. 89). The narrative follows Twain’s structure initially, with James and Huck rafting down the Mississippi, encountering floods, conmen (the Duke and King), and death. “The river was both our path to freedom and a reminder of our chains” (Everett, 2024, p. 76) underscores their journey.

Evidence for the thesis lies in James’s agency. Unlike Twain’s Jim, who is often a caricature, Everett’s James is calculating and literate, secretly educated via Judge Thatcher’s library. “With this pencil I write myself into being” (Everett, 2024, p. 52) reflects his use of writing to assert identity. His interactions reveal systemic racism’s absurdity, as when he joins a minstrel troupe under Daniel Decatur Emmett: “Never had a situation felt so absurd, surreal and ridiculous” (Everett, 2024, p. 201). Here, James, a Black man, pretends to be a white man playing a Black man, highlighting “the theatre of the absurd” (Everett, 2024, p. 202) in racial constructs.

The novel’s solution is resistance through self-expression and community. James’s literacy, though dangerous— “Another slave who pilfers a pencil stub for him is lynched for the act” (Everett, 2024, p. 180)—empowers him. His bond with Huck, revealed as his biological son, deepens the narrative: “Huck’s journey is as much about moral awakening as it is about survival” (Everett, 2024, p. 267). Encounters with the Duke and King, who betray him, expose white opportunism: “They were callous, defined by their opportunism” (Everett, 2024, p. 149). James’s final act, a violent rebellion, shifts the tone to a revenge narrative: “I am my own man, if only in my head” (Everett, 2024, p. 89). The resolution, “You can die with me trying to find freedom or you can stay here and be dead anyway” (Everett, 2024, p. 289), emphasizes collective liberation.

The novel’s strengths lie in its bold reimagining and linguistic dexterity. Everett’s inversion of Twain’s Jim into a complex, intellectual figure is a masterstroke. “With this pencil I write myself into being” (Everett, 2024, p. 52) captures James’s agency, challenging stereotypes with depth akin to Toni Morrison’s Beloved. The code-switching device, where “the better they feel, the safer we are” (Everett, 2024, p. 12), brilliantly exposes racism’s absurdity, echoing Frantz Fanon’s theories on colonized identity. The multi-perspective structure, though centered on James, weaves in Huck’s moral growth, creating a layered dialogue with Twain: “I do not view the work as a corrective, but rather in conversation with Twain” (Everett, 2024, p. 303). The humor, as in “All white men looked alike in a way, like bears, like bees, especially when dead” (Everett, 2024, p. 245), balances the narrative’s brutality, making it accessible yet profound.

Weaknesses include occasional narrative ruptures. The final act’s shift to a gun-toting revenge saga feels abrupt, as “the moves are not handled in a way that’s deliberately metafictional” (Everett, 2024, p. 281), risking tonal inconsistency. Some readers may find the use of the N-word, mirroring Twain’s text, jarring, though it serves a purpose: “Everett chooses to follow suit” (Everett, 2024, p. 302) to confront historical language head-on. Intersectional analysis, while strong on race, skims gender and class dynamics, unlike Morrison’s broader scope. For instance, Sadie and Lizzie, James’s family, remain underdeveloped: “They seldom appear directly in the narrative” (Everett, 2024, p. 301), limiting emotional depth.

The verdict is overwhelmingly positive. James is a triumph, recommended for readers of literary fiction and historical reimagining. Its bold reclamation of a silent voice makes it a vital companion to Twain’s classic, though its intensity demands careful engagement.

Why Indian Youth Readers Must Read This Book

For Indian youth, navigating the pressures of rote learning and societal expectations, James offers a powerful lens. The education system, with its relentless focus on exams like JEE and NEET, often stifles individuality, mirroring James’s need to perform subservience: “White folks expect us to sound a certain way” (Everett, 2024, p. 12). This resonates with students forced to conform to rigid syllabi, losing their voice in the grind. The novel’s a wake-up call, urging youth to assert their identity amid academic pressures.

The job market’s fierce competition echoes James’s struggle for agency: “I am my own man, if only in my head” (Everett, 2024, p. 89). Young Indians, often blamed for systemic issues like unemployment, will relate to James’s navigation of a hostile system. Societal norms—marrying within caste or pursuing “respectable” careers—parallel the novel’s oppressive structures. James’s resistance, through “writing myself into being” (Everett, 2024, p. 52), inspires youth to challenge expectations via education or activism. The communal spirit, “They learned to fight for themselves, together” (Everett, 2024, p. 412), encourages finding strength in peer groups or social movements, vital for those playing catch-up in a society that demands conformity. This book is a call to reclaim one’s voice in India’s complex landscape.

James is a searing, witty reimagining of a classic, giving voice to a silent figure. Everett’s blend of humor, horror, and philosophy exposes the ground reality of oppression while celebrating resilience. For Indian youth, it is a rallying cry to resist conformity and find community. This novel demands to be read, discussed, and remembered.