Following two Pulitzer Prize winning novels in a row, Colson Whitehead has written a third brilliant portrait of systemic racism in America, wrapped in a deep dive into mid-twentieth century Harlem. This time the focus is on multi-class strivers and crooks and how they interact and mirror each other in a masterful, spare and engaging narrative – Harlem Shuffle.
Whitehead divides his tale into three sections that skillfully develop his main character Ray Carney in his three roles as committed family man; enterprising furniture store owner and part-time, small-time middle man for stolen TVs –“…only slightly bent, when it came to being crooked.” He becomes a proud striver who’s family now lives on Riverside Drive, Carney’s dream location but aims for the prestigious Striver’s Row, owner of a much expanded retail enterprise and go-to fence for major Harlem criminal Chink Montague.
Part One – The Truck
The narrative opens in 1959 and introduces us to Ray’s wife Elizabeth, a cut above him in class and color and his strong emotional support; his deceased father Big Mike, a former full blown player in the local crime scene and cousin Freddie, Ray’s handsome soul mate since childhood who is both bone-headed and lacking in common sense. Freddie draws from his deep knowledge of Ray and his fascination with his father’s criminal underworld to volunteer Ray as a fence for the proceeds from a heist of the St. Theresa Hotel. Thus Ray begins his reluctant descent into a deeper level of criminality, and a higher class of living financed initially by the $30,000 Ray discovers in the wheel well of the old blue truck he thought was his sole legacy from his father, but was actually only the tangible element.
Part Two – Dorvay
In 1961 Ray connects with this centuries old practice of interrupting sleep with several hours of awake time. He describes his personal Dorvay as “…a period of focused rage,” his middle of the night crooked hours during which he plots his revenge against Wilfred Duke, the financier who bilked him out of a $500 envelope with the broken promise of membership in the exclusive Dumas Club. Ray develops an intricate plan to ruin Duke based on calling in stored up favors from envelopes he’s been coerced to provide in the past and some new ones, to a wide variety of criminal types, including the corrupt policeman Munson. After all “An envelope is an envelope. Disrespect the order and the whole system breaks down, “says one of them. Once the plan unfolds, Duke is ruined by scandalous photos taken during his drugged sleep at his favorite prostitute’s apartment on Convent Street. Describing the only downside of his revenge, Carney concludes, “Black eye aside, it had all been a pleasure.”
Part Three – Cool it Baby
It’s now 1964. The World’s Fair and riots in Harlem over the death of a black boy killed by a policeman are taking place simultaneously. They provide Whitehead an ironic juxtaposition of progress in the overall cynical bent of his narrative – “Good old American know-how on display: We do marvels, we do injustice, and our hands are always busy.” At the Dumas Club, many of Wilfred Dukes’ associates have also been disgraced, and the rules of membership have evolved to welcome younger entrepreneurs like Ray Carney, who detective Munson describes as “the biggest nobody in Harlem.” Back at the furniture store, Ray reluctantly agrees to stash an expensive looking briefcase filled with jewelry and papers stolen from the Van Wyk mansion by cousin Freddie and his drug-addled buddy Linus Van Wyk, scion of that super wealthy real estate family. Following discovery of Linus’ murder and a harrowing attempt to fence the jewelry, Ray and his hired gunman come face-to-face with the deep corruption of the Van Wyk empire, the ultimate strivers. Whitehead calls their economic development activities more destructive than the mayhem wrought by the riots and says, “The devastation (caused by the riots) had been nothing compared to what lay before him now, but if you bottled the rage and hope and fury of all the people of Harlem and made it into a bomb, the results would look something like this.”
As Part Three concludes, Carney cradles the dying Freddie in the bed of the legacy truck speeding to the hospital. He looks up at the stars, noting that unlike when he and Freddie were growing up together and the stars made them feel insignificant, the stars now make him feel recognized, because he has found his station in life and intends to make himself into something.
Whitehead’s vivid and eye-opening portrait of life on the raw side in Harlem at mid- twentieth century offers a gripping tale of ambition and malevolence in a rapidly changing and racially tense melieu that combine to whet the reader’s appetite for a sequel.
— Sue Martin
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