"A lifetime of being Negroes in the United States had convinced them that there was great advantage in being white."
If the color barrier exists -- that is, the barrier that keeps black Americans from social acceptance and justice because of their color -- then why not eliminate the color? If everyone were white, then racism should cease to exist? Right?
That is the premise George Schuyler explores in Black No More, an initially breezy little comic novel from 1931 that speculates about what might happen if science developed a quick, easy and affordable medical/biological process to eliminate skin pigmentation. The conceit is Swiftian, and the believability of its scientific efficacy is just as unimportant as it is in, say, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein or in Stevenson's ...Jekyll and Hyde, where those processes are similarly vague and incredible and pretty much beside the point. We don't have to suspend disbelief about this process as much as we have to believe in the sharpness, astuteness and potency of the resulting satire. So, having set up these richly promising possibilities, does Schuyler fully realize them and deliver the goods?
Not really, I'm afraid.
Before I elucidate what are for me the strengths and weaknesses of the book -- and there are, indeed, strengths -- I need to make it clear up front that, for me, this is one of the worst satirical novels I've ever read.
Normally, I don't bother with plot descriptions in my reviews, as such, but here it might help to provide a little for context. The book begins in Harlem, in New York City on New Year's Eve in 1933 and focuses on Max Disher, a dandy doing relatively well for himself despite the Depression. While frequenting the uptown night spots, he and an old war buddy, Bunny, shoot the shit on various topics including the haughtiness of "high yallah" black women, and during the course of the evening, Disher catches the eye of a lovely white lady and is rebuffed and called a nigger when asking her for a dance. Disgusted by the various injustices suffered by black Americans, and also retaining a fascination for the unattainable white woman, Disher manages to worm his way into the affections of Dr. Crookman, a black scientist who is about to unleash his amazing de-pigmenting process based on his research into the whitening skin condition, vitiligo, and manages to make himself the first subject of the doctor's "treatment."
Very quickly, Dr. Crookman and his investors, find they've unleashed a money making monster, and in short order black Americans are lining up around the block in 100 cities to take the treatments in their Black No More clinics. (The book rather unconvincingly posits that the process also changes other black physical features, including kinked hair, making the transformation complete). With so many new whites around, the various vested interests who had profited from either black-oriented businesses (black hair salons, for instance) or those whose livelihoods depended on exploiting the community (high-rent slum lords, for instance), begin to find their avocations in jeopardy. Most importantly, racists no longer have an enemy, no "other" to hate, so they try to find legislative ways to stop the whitening of the country. There is still "black blood" coursing through these new "fake" whites, after all. The racists see it as a new plot (managing, of course, to throw Communism in as a phony instigator) to infiltrate white society through stealthy race mixing.
Max, now white, takes on a new name and identity as Matthew Fisher, and goes to Atlanta in search of his white dream girl, Helen. While there he ingratiates himself with a racist reverend who happens to be the gal's father but is also the head of a powerful new Klan-type organization dedicated to destroying Black No More. Matthew eventually rises to power in the organization, laughing all the way to the bank and learning a lot about white society as he proceeds, and even manages to marry Helen. The complicated plot weaves through various political maneuvers as the forces at war try to destroy or sustain Black No More.
This all sounds very good and there are laughs and some sharply observed truths that emerge as the plot plays out.
The most important point the book addresses, and it is a piquant one still as relevant and real as ever, is society's need for the scapegoat, the "other," the person or the group that can keep the social order divided to divert attention from real human problems and solutions and keep elites in power. This paradigm also allows the lower white classes to have their own whipping boy to blow off steam and ignore their real enemies. The racial divide serves that purpose, and eliminating it threatens too many vested interests. One must be able to "see" one's perceived enemy in plain sight.
At the same time, Schuyler boldly broaches some sensitive topics and some skewers some sacred cows. He has no truck with a hagiographic-styled presentation of black grievances that overlooks the foibles and hypocrisies of black people or of ineffectual community leaders. The following quote referring to one male character's bent toward sexual harassment, for instance, might even please a contemporary feminist: "He bitterly denounced the Nordics for debauching Negro women while taking care to hire comely yellow stenographers with weak resistance."
Schuyler pops balloons left and right. Settles old scores. Deflates dogmas and egos in an equal opportunity manner. Politics, religion, the economic order, social habits, all come in for a pointed drubbing. His lampooning of religion is often spot on, as seen in these quotes:
"She believed the Bible from cover to cover, except what it said about people with money..."
"He quickly saw that these people would believe anything that was shouted at them loudly and convincingly enough."
Such quotes, while representing the book's strengths are also typical of its weaknesses. Human beings, or in this case, his characters, are simply ciphers for Schuyler to hang judgments upon.
Yes, Schuyler nails how stupidly gullible and pliable the American public is. He's hip to the forces that go on in the social order. He's keen to the hypocrisies and self-serving connections that bind a Randian selfish universe; he sees that shooting one's self in the foot is, ironically, a survival strategy. He makes us aware that he was aware of the comic absurdity of it all. I give him kudos and props for having his pulse on the sad state of things. And truly, one admires him for writing a book that had to be written. He identifies the problems, and spells them out.
Unfortunately, that's all he does. And that does not make for a novel.
Schuyler seems to have thought out all of the possible fall-out results of the de-colorization of America, but presents them as little more than a laundry list, as though merely mentioning them gives them any kind of novelistic gravitas or substance.
Even worse, Schuyler's approach is unyieldingly misanthropic -- there's nobody in his universe worth a shit -- black or white. It's like John Calvin writing a French farce.
Schuyler's particular brand of snark comes with large nudges and unseen but very blatantly felt exclamation points (just to make sure you "get" the joke). When he mocks a character, he makes sure to ascribe outrageous physical traits to them. He makes sure that you know, before he even mocks them, that they look worthy of mockery. Loading the deck against his characters to mock them in this way is akin to playing whack a mole with an atomic bomb. Subtle delineation gives way to editorial cartooning, and often I found it mean-spirited, offensive and an insult to the intelligence of the reader.
Even with characters who make a one-sentence appearance, Schuyler takes pains to describe their looks before lampooning them. He abuts this with the usage of obviously twee "funny" names (Buggerie, Snobbcraft, Kretin, Crookman, etc.) to further drive home the point. There are a lot of dead fish floating in this shot-up barrel.
Having repeatedly established that the racist Rev. Givens is a con man and a greedy fraud, Schuyler, pages later, still manages to describe him as "the avaricious Rev. Givens." OK, already!
In a chapter devoted to an important national radio speech by Rev. Givens, Schuyler extensively quotes the announcer's speech leading up to it, and then, instead of quoting Givens' actual speech, Schuyler simply summarizes it (paraphrasing: "he talked about this and that"). Why not spell out the actual speech after all this buildup?
Because of its premise, Schuyler can't help but wander unavoidably into mixed message territory. In one instance, he satirizes a black advocacy organization for secretly loving outrages such as lynchings of blacks, because such incidents increased the coffers of the organization. That, he posits, is the sole reason for the advocacy group's opposition to the changes wrought by Black No More. This, of course, is an alarmingly disturbing charge, and ignores the notion that black advocacy groups might simply be opposed to the idea of people changing to white simply because there's nothing wrong with being black -- and that the organization might, in fact, have a noble purpose apart from raising money. In fact, Schuyler spares nobody involved in black advocacy movements from charges of suspect motivations. Even Marcus Garvey, W.E.B. Du Bois, and others (under fictitious names) are not spared Schuyler's acid pen.
There are some interesting passages later in the book -- after the novel has wended its way through its tortuously repetitive political plotting -- such as when Helen has to make a decision about her baby and comes to a sweet change of heart and when two racists get their comeuppance by being confused with blacks and getting horrendously mutilated by a white crowd out for blood. And the book ends on a funny note in which "darkening" becomes a trend when people who are "too white" become the new target of prejudice.
Schuyler's plot swamps some of the occasional interesting suggestions he makes about the tragic loss of culture that occurs as the "race" ceases to exist. But, like many things in the book, it's part of a litany of lost opportunities.
Black No More makes remarkable points and is historically interesting for addressing what seem to be, unfortunately, timeless injustices in the racial and general social order. At the same time, the novel's thematic ambitions, and Schuyler's inability to manage them sink the book. I've rarely seen a novel collapse so badly under the weight of its ambitions. What starts off as a tasty little meal quickly half processes through a poorly functioning digestive system to emerge as a corn-laden steaming pile of crap. It's a comic extravaganza that goes off the rails, badly.
That's too bad, because Schuyler did have talent. I like the opening pages in Harlem as Max sampled its nightlife. In fact, Schuyler's grasp of that milieu is so good that I wish he had scaled down his grandiosity and instead told a story that involved just a few well-fleshed-out characters living in the city.
Instead, he was a chef who wanted to throw everything into his one novelistic souffle and by hurrying it along and half baking it ended up with a dish with some admirable ingredients that nonetheless leaves you nauseous.
(KR@KY 2016)