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136 pages, Hardcover
First published February 6, 2008
Strange Fruit
Southern Trees bear a strange fruit.
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root.
Black body swinging in the southern breeze.
Strange fruit hanging from the Poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant South.
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth.
Scent of Magnolia sweet and fresh.
And the sudden smell of burning flesh!
Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the tree to drop.
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
Abel Meeropol writing as Lewis Allan, 1937
Incognegro is in part based on the life of Walter Francis White, the Executive Secretary of the NAACP from 1931 until his death in 1955. During his tenure he worked to desegregate the armed forces after World War II, established the NAACP’s Legal Defense Fund and infiltrated the Ku Klux Klan to expose those involved with lynchings and other human rights violations. Incognegro is more than just a period piece. It is a mystery-noir that delves into race relations, gender issues, family, love and friendship. 
Come on, boss. You've been dangling that managing editor job in front of me for years. And I'm not talking about killing the column, just going local. I want some recognition for a change.
Oh, so you going local? Negro, I got local columnists. I got more lazy, non-investigating, pontificating blowhard columnists than I need.
But what I only have one of, and what nobody else has, is a white nigger columnist mad enough to go out and get the story from hell itself.
I am Incognegro.
I don't wear a mask like Zorro or a cape like The Shadow, but I don a disguise nonetheless.
My camouflage is provided by my genes; the product of the southern tradition nobody likes to talk about. Slavery, rape, hypocrisy.
American Negroes are a mulatto people; I'm just an extreme example, a walking reminder.
Since white America refuses to see its past, they can't really see me, either.