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In Jason Mott's Hell of a Book, a Black author sets out on a cross-country publicity tour to promote his bestselling novel. That storyline drives Hell of a Book and is the scaffolding of something much larger and urgent: since Mott's novel also tells the story of Soot, a young Black boy living in a rural town in the recent past, and The Kid, a possibly imaginary child who appears to the author on his tour. As these characters' stories build and build and converge, they astonish. For while this heartbreaking and magical book entertains and is at once about family, love of parents and children, art and money, it's also about the nation's reckoning with a tragic police shooting playing over and over again on the news. And with what it can mean to be Black in America. Who has been killed? Who is The Kid? Will the author finish his book tour, and what kind of world will he leave behind? Unforgettably told, with characters who burn into your mind and an electrifying plot ideal for book club discussion, Hell of a Book is the novel Mott has been writing in his head for the last ten years. And in its final twists it truly becomes its title.… (more)
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ETA a quote from the end of the novel which tells you everything and nothing about the story itself:
“Laugh all you want, but I think learning to love yourself in a country where you’re told that you’re a plague on the economy, that you’re nothing but a prisoner in the making, that your life can be taken away from you at any moment and there’s nothing you can do about it — learning to love yourself in the middle of all of that? Hell, that’s a g--d---mn miracle.”
The unnamed narrator of alternate chapters is a dissolute author on a book tour for his novel Hell of a Book, trying to
Throughout the book, Mott teases the relationship between the author, Soot and the murdered black child, and, I must say, resolves the relationships with lyric finesse. This expression of the tragedy of America’s continuing racism through the lens of Mott’s characters is heartbreaking. That black culture can survive and thrive in the midst of such oppressive despair is nothing less than a miracle. The National Book Award is well deserved.
This story involves a melding of the imagined and the real. It explores serious topics, such as racism in the US, in an a lively and engaging manner, using a mix of richly descriptive prose, humor, satire, metaphor, and storytelling. It is an exceptionally creative effort. One aspect I admire most about it is that it helps people relate to the black American experience regardless of the reader’s background. It evokes an empathetic response, at least it did for me.
I am very impressed at the author’s ability to blend comedy and tragedy into a meaningful whole that addresses important issues in contemporary society. Highly recommended.
A few of my favorite passages (there are too many to list, but this gives you an idea of what to expect):
“Jack the Media Trainer leads Sharon and me into a small conference room with a large oval table and a handful of chairs placed around it. There’s a small video camera on the center of the table and a few microphones. At the far end of the room, there’s another camera, and a lectern, and even more microphones, as if the President of the United States might soon be coming by for a press conference. “So this is it,” Jack says proudly, opening his arms like a game show host. ‘This is the room where I’m going to train you to become you.’”
“Sometimes, you tell people you’re an author and they’ll pull out their phone and Google you, right there in front of your face. They’ll type in your name and, depending on the search results, decide for themselves whether or not you’re truly what you say you are. The modern author is only as important as their search results. And after they’ve found out that your book is actually in actual stores, they’ll want to know how you got your agent, how you got your editor, what software you use to write, how long it took you to write it, how much money you got paid, how many copies you sold, whether or not they’re going to make your book into a movie.”
“Chinese lanterns dangle from a small footbridge as we make our way through the park. The lanterns become small suns burning in the distance and I can believe, just for a moment, that all of us people are wandering the universe together as one. One of the truths we often overlook is that we are, all of us, always wandering the universe. We are perpetually hurtling on a rocky raft through the void, taking the tour of the cosmos at 67,000 miles per hour, every second of every day, and yet we still find time to stop and talk over bridges in the late hours of the night and maybe reach out and touch someone else’s hand.”
“Laugh all you want, but I think learning to love yourself in a country where you’re told that you’re a plague on the economy, that you’re nothing but a prisoner in the making, that your life can be taken away from you at any moment and there’s nothing you can do about it—learning to love yourself in the middle of all that? Hell, that’s a … miracle.”
I found the dry and often sarcastic humor in the book to be quite funny--the consultant on book tours, at the beginning? OMG--I really expected to be surprised by the end, as the stories of the author, Soot, and The Kid converge. Only I wasn't surprised at all. It pretty much all turned out to be exactly what I expected (the whole "disorder" as an explanation for the author's confusion/poor memory was not the reason I saw coming, but I guess it really is the same thing. I thought PTSD, and the D is for "disorder", but I have never heard nor thought of it being described that way.
As for the NBA win--I get it and have no issue. I didn't love this, but it is clever and original and circles back around, which is something I usually love, but again, I was disappointed in not being surprised. The wit, though, was great--and I loved that the author's book was never named. I bet people who have been on book tours see a layer in here that I don't.
To be readable, or at least readable by white Americans, a novel looking at the stark, unforgiving effects of racism needs a large helping of satire or gallows humor. And in recent years, there have several satires on the issue, from The Sellout and We Cast a Shadow to The Trees. The satirical elements temper the righteous anger and allow the reader to receive a pointed message without feeling defensive. And the message in Hell of a Book is exceedingly sharp, as it needs to be.
I thought
The author has a way of
Structurally, every other chapter
The short chapters containing Soot's stories are followed by lengthier chapters that comprise the bulk of the book and revolve around the unnamed author. Most every aspect of the unnamed author's story feels annoyingly gimmick-laden, starting with him characterizing himself as having an unnamed illness related to an overactive imagination ala The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. (Not exactly like that but I couldn't stop jumping to that every time it came up). This fellow has a penchant for occasionally slipping into 40's and 50's private eye patter and speech patterns for no f*@#% reason. He claims that he's telling a love story (a plethora of Kelly's with different spellings are briefly touched upon) though instead a great deal of this unnamed author's story is an indictment of the publishing industry. I have no quarrel with his depiction of the difficult demands put on an author, but this really should be a side note rather taking up as much as space as it does.
Another main thread, of course, and what I mostly appreciated, is the manner in which Mott discusses race. His commentary about what it is to be Black in America. The way never-ending hyper vigil against what things might be said or done to you or denied you is ever-present in both in Soot's story and in the unnamed author, and is the part that he captures quite well. The rest of it--the drunken escapades, the memory lapses (the unnamed author doesn't know what his book is about and all along his book tour never remembers what he actually said) gets tiresome fast. I know it's satiric, but I never found any of the unnamed author's antics to be funny. What other readers deem "hilarious," I found terribly unfunny.
Mott and the readers who enjoyed this probably thought some levity was needed since the underpinnings of the novel are so grim. Which bring me back to my original feeling. I spent a lot of time gritting my teeth. When Mott's characters are dead serious, his writing is pitch perfect. When he goes off on the goofball s%# the writing is clunky and served to take me out of the story. Maybe that was on purpose, mimicking the ways in which sometimes as a Black person you are forced to disassociate from yourself as a way to disassociate from the way you're being received in a moment. And that's not to say that this is only for Black readers. However, despite the fact that I obviously can't speak for every Black person in America--which is also one of Mott's points--for me, he nailed what it can feel like and be like to be marginalized while you're simultaneously being lauded and expected to speak for everyone who looks like you to everyone who doesn't look like you. Still, it didn't make it a hell of a book. Black Buck (another recent satire about being Black in America) is a novice book by a young writer and lacks maturity. In contrast, because Hell of a Book feels like it's been written by someone who has been around the block--both as a writer and as a human--it is arguably more disappointing. Mott has stated in interviews that he wanted to show not tell what it means to be black in America. I think this book is more successful when it does tell.
SPOILER: Very early on it becomes clear that there will be a convergence of Soot, The Kid, and the unnamed writer and that perhaps they are all manifestations of the same person. About halfway through the book, a friend who read the book after me, shared her hypothesis that maybe the unnamed writer had been the victim of a shooting and was laying in a hospital bed or even where he'd ostensibly have fallen, and the sum of the book was taking place as he faded in and out of consciousness. That would have been an excellent way to hold the story to together.
The unnamed narrator is an author on a book tour, promoting is book called Hell of a Book. Every other chapter tells the story of a boy with very very black skin, who constantly tries to become invisible so he will be safe. The book very cleverly obscures reality by creating many shifting layers of reality and unreality. The narrator often can't tell the difference between what is real and what is not, so the reader must constantly try to figure out what is real, and ultimately realize it doesn't matter. The stories of the narrator and the boy blend into each other, and blend into all of the other stories of Black people who are shot by cops.
The writing is relentlessly clever, witty, and playful - every sentence is delightfully crafted - while also exploring some of the most painful and difficult subjects possible. There were parts of the book where I was literally laughing and crying at the same time. This is a very powerful book.
Having said that, what are we going to make of his unnamed main character who, it must be said, is, like Mott, a first-time black author hawking a literary novel, and his travelling companion, Soot? Our protagonist is quite aware that Soot might not be quite as real as the chair you're probably sitting on right now: even his therapist has said that his relationship is liable to interference and distortion thanks to a personal trauma that, the deeper one gets into this novel, might as well be called ambient, a set of fears and apprehensions that just come with being black, American, and alive in the twenty-first century. To give Mott credit, he never quite spells out this mysterious kid's exact nature, and he makes him human -- and likable -- enough to keep him from being nothing but a literary symbol. But don't have to be a psychologist specializing in trauma to see the collision of his and the narrator's stories coming from a mile away. Meanwhile, both the narrator and this not-quite-a-character are used as foils for any number of conflicting desires: for visibility and for safety, for numbness and closeness, for memory and detachment. In the book's closing pages, they have a painfully emotional conversation that seems to get to the heart of things, and, ever since I finished the book, I've meant to go back and reread it. After a few hundred pages of deft literary games, Mott and his book might actually hit on something genuinely human here, but, quite frankly, "Hell of a Book" is such an emotionally trying read that I haven't reread these passages yet, and I'm not completely convinced that I will anytime soon. "Hell of a Book" is funny and wry, but no beach read. Your opinion of it may depend on how much tolerance you have for its twisty metafictional constructions, but those are hardly the most difficult aspect of this novel. The novel feels like it's a built on a well of sadness that, with or without all the postmodern fireworks, the author struggles to put on paper. Whew. Eventually, I think I may go back to see how well he does this, but probably not for a while. This one is easy to like, but tough to judge. Three and a half stars will have to do for now.
His acceptance comment:
I would like to dedicate this award to all the other mad kids, to all the outsiders, the weirdos, the bullied,” he said in his speech. “The ones so strange they had no choice but to be misunderstood by the world and by those around them. The ones who, in spite of this, refuse to outgrow their imagination, refuse to abandon their dreams and refuse to deny, diminish their identity, or their truth, or their loves, unlike so many others.”
Thanks to the author, Penguin and Library Thing for an ARC in exchange for an unbiased review.
4.5⭐
Our unnamed narrator is a Black writer riding high on the success of his recently published book – a book titled “Hell of a Book” ("It’s been Kindled and Kobo’d, iPadded and Audible’d. It’s been optioned so
Parallel to our narrator’s experiences is the story of a little boy who is unkindly nicknamed “Soot” on account of his extremely dark skin. Soot’s loving parents believe that they can keep him safe if he stays “invisible”.
Our narrator is often visited by “The Kid”, a “gangly, meek, and nerdy-looking” boy only he can see and interact with, who insists he is “real” and with whom he shares some deep and meaningful conversations on what it means to Black in America.
As the different threads converge and the lines between fiction and reality become blurred -for our narrator and for the reader-the story attains a dream-like quality that pulls you in, breaks your heart and leaves you more than a little unsettled.
“But the thing to know and remember is that you can never be something other than what you are, no matter how much you might want to. You can’t be them. You can only be you. And they’re going to always treat you differently than they treat themselves. They won’t ever know about it—at least, most of them won’t. Most of them will think that everything is okay and that you’re being treated well enough and that everything is beautiful. Because, I guess for them, all they can imagine is a world in which things are fair and beautiful because, after all, they’ve always been treated fairly and beautifully. History has always been kind to them.”
I tend to be wary of award winning books with a lot of hype surrounding them which is why I took my time to get to this one. But I am so glad that I eventually did pick this book up. Aptly named, "Hell of a Book" is truly a creative and brilliant work of fiction. With its powerful writing, lyrical prose and elements of magical realism, sardonic humor and a narrative that is hard-hitting, insightful and relevant, Jason Mott’s "Hell of a Book" is a unique and immersive experience. I combined my reading with the audio narration by JD Jackson and Ronald Peet which made for an exceptional immersion reading experience.