What follow are the first three paragraphs of Merve Emre's 12-31-17 New Yorker article entitled "How a Fictional Racist Plot Made the Headlines and Revealed an American Truth":
In 1968, the African-American novelist John A. Williams published his third novel, “The Man Who Cried I Am,”
a bitter, beautiful, and feverish depiction of the failed promises of
the civil-rights era. The novel, which was a best-seller and went
through six printings, narrates the lives of two writers, one of whom,
Max Reddick, is a journalist whose career path resembled Williams’s own.
Like Max, who had served in the Army during the Second World War,
Williams had enlisted in the Navy, where he was almost killed—not by the
enemy but by a gang of white American sailors. Both men later worked as
beat reporters for New York magazines. Their shared suspicion of the
subtle, yet omnipresent, racism of the white creative class and the
black integrationists who mimicked its liberal politics led both of them
abroad—first to Europe, then to Africa at the height of the Black Power
movement.
The
novel’s other central character, Harry Ames, is a celebrated black
American writer of social-protest fiction who so closely resembled
Richard Wright that the lawyers at Little, Brown expressed some concern
that the author’s estate would sue. And yet there are elements of
Williams’s own story in Harry’s, too. Like Harry, Williams had been
nominated for a prestigious writing prize—the American Academy in Rome’s
Rome Prize Fellowship—only to have it withdrawn without explanation. As
Williams recalled, he had lost the fellowship after a racially charged
interview with the academy’s director, an incident that seemed proof to
him that most of the “good, white moderate people of the North and
South” were privately “anti-Negro,” for to be so publically was “no
longer fashionable.” “The vast silence—the awful, condoning silence that
surrounded the affair fits a groove worn,” he reflected. “The rejection
confirms my suspicions, not ever really dead and makes my ‘paranoia’
real and therefore not ‘paranoia’ at all,” he wrote in an article in Nugget. “That is the sad thing, for I always work to lose it.”
“The
Man Who Cried I Am” is a novel about the kind of paranoia that proves
to be entirely justified, a theme that culminates in its penultimate
chapter, in which Harry, living in self-imposed exile in Paris, dies
under suspicious circumstances. Before his death, we learn, he had
recently discovered a briefcase containing “the King Alfred Plan”: a
series of leaked documents outlining the measures that the U.S.
government would adopt if the racial unrest and discord of the
mid-nineteen-sixties turned into civil war—an “Emergency” that would
involve “all 22 million members of the Minority.” “The Minority has
adopted an almost military posture to gain its objectives, which are not
clear to most Americans,” the plan read. “It is expected, therefore,
that, when those objectives are denied the Minority, racial war must be
considered inevitable.” The plan, which was named after the first
Anglo-Saxon king of England, detailed how the government would
“terminate, once and for all, the Minority threat to the whole American
society, and indeed, the Free World.”
To read Emre's entire article, click HERE.
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