A Different James and the Great American Novel

By W. F. Twyman, Jr.

James is, above all, a book that refuses to let us turn away from the filth and horror that underpins American slavery. Though a work of fiction, it evokes a more visceral response than many so-called historical accounts, reminding us that the past is far from past. I found myself angry, saddened, even nauseated—an emotional cocktail that Everett no doubt intends. This novel does not merely entertain; it indicts, holding up a mirror to the human capacity for both cruelty and resilience.

In reading James, one realizes that Everett’s gift lies not only in his craftsmanship but in his courage. He writes with a fierce clarity, refusing to let his readers escape the brutal truth that lurks in the background of every scene, every character interaction. This is not a book to be taken lightly. It’s a fierce, unblinking confrontation with America’s legacy of inhumanity—rendered with such skill that one can only marvel, even as one recoils in horror. — Book Review of James by SN Patch

As I woke up this morning, my first thoughts were about the novel James by Percival Everett and my desire for a different Great American Novel. I am well-familiar with the horror and brutality of slavery. I once wrote that “Slavery was far worse than anyone living can imagine. We know slavery as a Hollywood production — “Roots,” “Twelve Years a Slave,” “Django Unchained.” When it comes to slavery, real life surpassed human comprehension. Every American should read “American Slavery As It Is” by Theodore Weld. From cover to cover. Don’t stop as you tremble. Once you close this book on slavery, you will feel bad for several days. I did. That is healthy. And when you come out the other side, you will feel peace, even gratitude that our country fought a war to end slaveholding. Thoughts of slavery will lose power over you.

The novel James may be a fictional masterpiece but it falls short of reality that was slavery. The greatest threat to a healthy black culture and consciousness today is an inability to see beyond slaveholding. I wrote those words back in 2018 and those words remain genuine this morning. What are the downstream consequences of James? Resentments are passed along to readers, particularly children. The resulting scars compel the impressionable to despise our country, our shared bond as countrymen. The pain flows from slavery and continues into infinity.

My view may not be a popular one. I don’t write to be popular. I write what I see, and feel, about the human condition. These are the aims of a Great American Novel. James keeps us in love with oppressed blacks. That’s my report from a haunted present.

A novel can bring negative feelings or positive feelings into the world. Great novels bring all feelings into existence for the reader. I am at a place where I am concerned about the fallout of negative feelings on black culture and consciousness. When the young are awash with negative depictions, young minds become more psychologically on guard. One is less likely to engage in Black enterprise, to engage the larger world where reimagined echoes of slavery are ever present. Make no mistake, negative mindsets are a barrier to success in 2024.

It is about the feeling tone of a story. See Black Like Me.

Positive stories generate positive feelings and perceptions about the larger world. Read a novel like Martin Eden by Jack London. One is left for most of the story with a sense of the inner man, not the outer limitations so much. The inner man. Here is what I mean. I suspect my young mind as a kid was infused with great positive emotions and feelings from hours of reading Black Enterprise Magazine at Grandma’s house. And these were true epic stories of entrepreneurs, lawyers, publishers, music executives, and construction executives overcoming real obstacles in the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s. They all came out on top. To quote Clay Routledge, the positive words and stories “left me with a more expansive mindset, leading to greater willingness to take risks and explore new possibilities…”

Does the novel James so frame the human condition for a young black kid like I was in 1972? Just a question.

Some may argue we are telling stories that need attention and focus. No one cares about black enterprise in the 1970s. The real pressing story today is the tale of James, a runaway slave before the Civil War. There’s the problem. We become what we focus on. We become negative, not positive:

But James doesn't shy away from the horrors of chattel slavery, and while the violence is never gratuitous, the resigned matter-of-fact depictions of the institution's inherent psychological and physical cruelty hits just as hard as any graphic blow-by-blow account. — Book Review

Another aspect that haunted me was the subtle but consistent pattern Everett weaved through the story—everyone who helped Jim, except Huck, met a tragic end. It’s hard to tell if it was a coincidence or a chilling reflection of how dangerous it was to aid a Black person back then, but either way, it made clear just how easily Black lives were discarded. That’s a stark, painful truth to digest. — Book Review

Reading James is a deeply personal experience, especially as a Black woman, knowing that the only thing separating me from that nightmare of slavery is the year I was born. The narrative forced me to confront the reality that my great-grandparents and countless others who share my skin color endured this hellscape. It's more than just history—it's a stark reminder that they were treated as "it," less than animals, mere property. This is the kind of story that takes a physical toll on me every time I bear witness to it, but at the same time, it's necessary. — Book Review

No, dear reviewer. One doesn’t have to relive trauma. That is not healthy living.

We could use the words of a different James to communicate the essence and character of America. Allow me to share imagined thoughts from a different James about a haunted present where truth and reconciliation is loved more than oppressed blacks:

Jim: One of the most emotional moments of my life was deciding whether I should change my name to Twyman. It was my birthright. There is a famous book, The Promised Land, about a slaveholder, James Twyman. James had several children by slave women and, from all accounts, was beloved by his slaves and referred to as “Pappy” for ironic reasons. James freed all of his slaves when he died and gave them enough money to start a new life in Ohio.

Jim: You’re wrong, Gene. You know why we are family? We’re not family because of DNA matches, the ubiquitous match on Chromosome 13, the undeniable match to the Lee family. Our common surname, the most powerful name in the English language for all of us, can create a feel of family, if we open our hearts.

Jim: To those fixed on white, white is white. To those fixed on black, it is the same. And red is red, yellow, yellow — Surely there are such sights in the many colored world, or in the mind. The strange thing is that these people never see themselves, or you, or me.

Conclusion: James may win the Pulitzer Prize. Great writing should always be rewarded. For me, however, I am still searching for the Great American Novel. In the Great American Novel to be written, we shouldn’t forget the past. We should let go of old grudges from slavery. We move on as Americans and feel compassion for one another across the color line. And therein lies greatness.

Our ancestors would want us to move on and live our lives to the fullest today. We dishonor our ancestors if we bring trials and tribulations from their times into our times. We disrespect our ancestors with limited and negative thinking, while living in the greatest country ever. Write for me of black bankers, black doctors, black college presidents, black public office holders and pioneer black lawyers from the mid-1800s. Tell me of their greatness in a great way.

I can see beyond slaveholding.