Friday, December 20, 2024

Harlem Shuffle by Colson Whitehead

Source of book: Audiobook from the library

 

I have read (or listened to) two other books by Colson Whitehead, and all three of the ones I have experienced have been very different. Zone One was a literary take on the classic zombie apocalypse story, while The Underground Railroad imagined the figurative highway for the enslaved who emancipated themselves to travel to freedom as if it were a literal railway, and literally underground. 

 

And then there is Harlem Shuffle, which I guess is more or less historical fiction? Or perhaps a gangster novel? Whatever it is, it is definitely more lighthearted than either of the other books I have read. In fact, it is really quite funny in places, albeit in a somewhat cynical and dark way. 


 

The book is set in Harlem, New York City, in the early 1960s. It is divided into three episodes, which are connected by the characters, but separate in storyline. 

 

The protagonist is Ray Carney, a really excellently drawn character, who illustrates the nuance of survival as a black man on the borderline between legal and not exactly legal. Ray comes from a family of crooks - his dad was notorious (and respected) within the underworld up until his untimely demise. 

 

Ray really wants to go straight. He marries the daughter of a lawyer (to her family’s consternation), and uses his inheritance (from his dad’s crimes) to open a legitimate furniture store on 125th Street. 

 

But, keeping straight isn’t easy, or perhaps even possible. Ray doesn’t ask too many questions about those used radios and televisions brought to him by Cousin Freddy, and eventually ends up being a fence for coins and jewelry as well, in connection with a jeweler who also doesn’t ask questions. 

 

Don’t ask, don’t tell. 

 

But Cousin Freddy is a fuck-up, and can’t stay out of trouble. The kind of trouble that keeps dragging Ray into things he has no intention of being a part of. You know the kind. 

 

In the first episode, Freddy gets involved in a heist at the historic Hotel Theresa - notable for being one of the first desegregated hotels, starting in 1940 after it was bought by an African American businessman. Notable guests over the years include Fidel Castro, Duke Ellington, Buddy Holly, and Malcolm X. 

 

The story of the heist was based on an actual robbery, apparently. In the book, in the aftermath of the successful job, Miami Joe, the guy who put it together, double crosses the others - and starts murdering his accessories. Oh, and one of the items taken was a posh necklace that a local gangster gave to his mistress - and now he wants it back. 

 

In the second episode, Ray is invited to apply to be a member in the distinguished social and business club, the Dumas Club, of which his father-in-law is a member. One of the lead members, Wilfred Duke, a banker, solicits a payment of five hundred dollars as a, well, wink and nudge. 

 

Despite paying it, Ray is turned down for membership, and Duke refuses to return the bribe. Ray vows revenge. This episode is all about his carefully laid plans to bring Duke down - which he does. 

 

Unsurprisingly, it turns out Duke has embezzled a bunch of money from other members, including Ray’s father-in-law, who has to downsize substantially after losing most of his savings. 

 

The third episode involves Cousin Freddy again. This time, Freddy, who has had drug issues all his life, latches on to Linus van Wyke (a fictional trust-fund-baby sort descended from the first mayor of New York.) 

 

Linus has been in and out of psychiatric treatment in endless attempts by his family to “cure” his homosexuality. Combine that trauma with too much money, and it is unsurprising that Linus does prodigious quantities of drugs. 

 

During the Harlem Riot of 1964, he convinces Freddy to help him steal the family jewels - and some papers that are meaningful to Linus. Unfortunately, they are surprised in the act by Linus’ dad, and this brings down the entire power of the van Wyke family on the two of them. And then, when Linus overdoses and dies, well, who is in the way but Freddy…and Ray. 

 

This being a Colson Whitehead book, this is no boilerplate crime novel. Whitehead is an excellent writer, and a writer of literary fiction, even when he works within genres. (Zone One is a great example.) 

 

The story itself peels back the layers of corruption. As the book says, everyone has a hustle. Everyone is on the make, one way or another. 

 

If you think of the sections of the book as different views, it is apparent that we are zooming out. Miami Joe and his hotel heist is the small scale. Joe is a crook, but he isn’t at the level of organized crime. The Theresa is a job, not an operation, if you will. 

 

When we look at the Dumas club, the corruption goes up a level - to the professional middle class, which Ray aspires to join - it would be good for business. This part of the system is governed by what Ray calls “the movement of envelopes” - that is, the passing of bribes. 

 

Ray himself straddles the class and legality lines, so he needs to pass envelopes to two different corrupt entities. He needs to be in good with the local gang, so he pays off “Chink” Montegue, who lets him operate and even sends him business…of both kinds. 

 

But he also has to pay off the local cop, for the privilege of operating without too much scrutiny. The movement of envelopes. 

 

Finally, we zoom all the way out to the big money, the old money, the white money. And we find that the van Wyke’s are every bit as corrupt as Miami Joe. Sure, they move bigger envelopes and use lawyers to do so. But they don’t neglect the less savory stuff. They even have their hired thugs, who may have lighter skin but operate in violence every bit as much. 

 

For Ray, corruption is just part of the game, it is what he needs to participate in to survive and thrive in the world he was born into. And as the book puts it, when it comes to being crooked, Ray is just a little bit bent. Compared to the big players, he isn’t much of a crook. A little fencing here and there, a few shady deals, and a good revenge, but really, he sells furniture. At least that’s what he tells himself.

 

There are a lot of things I really loved about this book. The characters are memorable and realistic. Ray Carney is incredibly relatable, even if I am such a square that I really don’t have a hustle, and would never succeed with one. 

 

Ray’s employees, Rusty and Marie, get enough backstory to make them three dimensional, even if they are fairly minor players. Ray’s wife Elizabeth, (probably) ignorant as to his criminal activities, but trying hard to navigate between Ray’s world and her parents’ world. 

 

Pepper, the veteran (and veteran crook) who provides the muscle and street smarts when Ray needs it. Cousin Freddy, who is hopeless. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble” is his lifelong mantra. And a bunch more characters, most of which are nuanced and human. 

 

The ethical landscape is also complicated, and, like any good crime novel, you find yourself uncomfortably rooting for “the bad guys.” This is even more so because Ray is an underdog, and really didn’t want to get involved. 

 

I also want to mention a few scenes. The riots are seen from a few different perspectives, as the book unfolds. One of those is Freddy’s - he ends up caught up in them while looking for a sandwich. And probably high as a kite. “Man, I was HUNGRY! I just wanted a sandwich, and all this rioting…” 

 

The revenge on Duke is delicious and well deserved. And mostly self inflicted - it almost feels like a Count of Monte Cristo comeuppance. 

 

Whitehead did a lot of research for this book. While he lived in Harlem until age 5, most of his childhood was spent in Brooklyn. In order to get things right, he walked all of the locations - and made sure he had the right kind of housing or business for the address. 

 

He also researched mid-century modern furniture, which means that literally every advertising slogan in the book came from an actual advertisement of the time. There is so much loving detail about the furniture that went well over my head (particularly because I listened to it on audio and didn’t have the chance to google stuff.) 

 

I’m sure there are other things I could mention, but I’ll just end by saying that this was a thoroughly enjoyable book. Whitehead is an excellent writer. There is more to this book than a simple yarn, although it is certainly a fun story. 

 

***

 

The audiobook was mostly good, but it had a few flaws. Dion Graham is a good narrator, and kept the voices separated quite well. However, there were a few spots when he seemed to pause in strange spots, as if he missed the line break and had to find his place. I totally get how this would happen, but usually these are fixed in production. Likewise, in a complaint I unfortunately have to make all too often, the recording lacked sufficient compression, which meant that some parts were too soft to hear easily without driving, but if you turned it up, you got painfully blasted with the loud parts. I am not sure why some audiobooks have this problem and others don’t. I wish publishers would keep in mind that many of us listen while driving, and we need more consistent audio levels. 

 

***

 

This book reminded me a bit of Deacon King Kong by James McBride - another modern African American author that I really enjoy. That book is a bit more absurd and farcical, but the humor surrounding gangsters is in both. 

 

***

 

And, of course, the song which inspired the title. I’m going with the original Bob & Earl version, not the Rolling Stones cover. 

 

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