American Fiction
Synopsis: An author of literary books writes a trashy book as a joke. It becomes a bestseller. (Streaming on Amazon Prime)
Is a book written by a Black author a Black book? Possibly. Is a book written by a Black author about Ancient Greece a Black book? No. Confused? So is American Fiction‘s Thelonious “Monk” Ellison, an English Literature professor and author who is Black.
Monk’s agent tells him that his books aren’t Black enough to interest publishers. In fact, while perusing a bookstore in Boston during a convention, he sees that his latest (low-selling) book is placed in the African American Studies section. The book has nothing to do with the Black experience. When Monk asks a white book clerk why his book is in the section, the man suggests it’s because of Monk’s book jacket photo. Offended, he scoops up his books and transports them to the History section. The clerk calls out: I’ll just move them back!
American Fiction is based on Black author Percival Everett’s Erasure. But is it a Black book? Maybe not…
Even if a book is written by a Black author and populated with Black characters, it might not qualify as a Black book. Conventional wisdom posits that predominantly white-staffed publishing houses gravitate to stories of traumatic Black experiences. As in the movie industry, that means trafficking in stereotypes of Blacks as gangbangers and hoochies living in blighted inner-city neighborhoods. Or tales of enslaved Blacks’ persecution in the antebellum American South.
So, Abby Collette’s mystery, A Deadly Inside Scoop or Jasmine Guillory’s romance, The Wedding Date wouldn’t qualify as Black books. Likewise literary books like Zadie Smith’s The Autograph Man or Colson Whitehead’s Sag Harbor wouldn’t be Black enough, as the Black author’s plots don’t revolve around “trauma porn.”
Jeffrey Wright’s Monk is an intellectual, but his interests don’t include the study of race. He’s impatient with people who focus on racial identity. In fact, his own background as the well-educated son of a physician placed him in an upper middle-class milieu, outside of prevalent notions of Blackness promoted on page and screen.
Monk has distanced himself from his family, having fashioned a life for himself in California. But a literary fest has brought him back home to Boston. When he runs into an old neighbor, the guy tells him since he’s out in LA, he should try writing for the television series NCIS. Why can’t anyone appreciate where he’s coming from?
Monk is already mildly agitated from dealing with old family issues. His sister Lisa (Tracee Ellis Ross) admonishes him for not regularly visiting their ailing mom Agnes (Leslie Uggams). He makes excuses. Though Lisa is an OB-GYN and their brother Cliff (Sterling K. Brown) is a plastic surgeon, it seems that their dad’s favorite was Monk. Another lonely genius according to mom.
Lisa practices at a women’s clinic. I quickly accepted her in this role, as she was also a physician in Blackish. But here, I was a little concerned for her patients because she has really long nails.
Monk’s brother Cliff is having a crisis after his divorce, living it up with hookups and cocaine. Maybe he should skip work for a while. Don’t want to be botching those nose and boob jobs. Cliff’s character is pretty one-dimensional. He’s usually just asserting his right to a new unfettered life. Monk shakes his head in consternation. Maybe this sort of rebellion is inevitable if, like Cliff, you have been living in Tuscon for too many years. Back to the convention center…
The panel discussion that Monk participates in doesn’t drum up many spectators. At the conclusion, a fellow panelist tells him that everyone is at a reading given by Sintara Golden (Issa Rae). Similar to Monk, she comes from a financially privileged, college-educated background. But Sintara has written We’s Lives in Da Ghetto. (She says she did a lot of research.) Monk ducks into her reading and catches her doing a dramatic code switch from Standard American English to Black inner-city vernacular.
He tromps back to the hotel, turns on the telly to forget his woes and is assailed by blaxploitation films. Why is the white public buying this and why are Black artists feeding the machine?
It made me wonder what kind of films Monk might like. I don’t think he’d like Tyler Perry’s Madea movies; too lowbrow. How about Oscar Best Pic winner Moonlight? Too familiar of a narrative, probably. Maybe director Steve McQueen’s Lovers Rock? It’s very “real.” In spite of the fact that it shows Black people enjoying life instead of suffering. Thank you!
Without meaning to, Monk (on a leave of absence from his job) extends his time in Boston. His mom needs some help. And he’s met an attractive neighbor, Coraline (Erika Alexander). Coraline, a Black public defender, is warm and direct. According to family lore, Monk’s dating life revolved around white women.
Unfortunately, we don’t see much of Coraline beyond her being a love interest. Not once do we see her, say, changing plans because of work commitments or personal obligations. She’s always at the ready to listen to Monk’s kvetching or at his side to help tend to mom, Agnes.
Coming to the realization that his widowed mom may need some specialized care, Monk takes on a position with a stipend; he’ll be a juror for a literary prize committee. Meanwhile, he has enough free time to stew about the success of We’s Lives in Da Ghetto.
As a joke, he starts writing a Black book about a young, reckless Black man and his wayward father, My Pathology. As Monk sits at his laptop, you can see the wheels turning, No, not quite right… the writer re-christens his work My Pafology, vowing to amp up the stereotypes and dumb down the writing.
Monk’s joke gets away from him. He tasks his agent with sending out the joke book under a pseudonym. All so that Monk can make a point. Suddenly, his agent calls from California: publishers are interested. What?! Well, he does need the money. And maybe he could keep his identity a secret by adopting the persona of an OG during face blurred-out interviews. And no reason to tell his family or new love interest about his endeavor. What could go wrong?
And that gig as a juror for a literary prize? The only other POC on the panel is a Black author who sees nothing wrong with pandering to tastes for “raw” accounts of struggling Black people. But, Monk avers, such books reinforce whites’ notions that Black people exist as an underclass, to be gawked at with pity. The author shrugs it off; it pays the bills.
I want to circle back to a family dinner that Monk invites Coraline to. In the midst of pranking the publishing world– and tweaking whites who look to consuming Black trauma as a route to absolving themselves of a connection to the hard and soft powers of white privilege– Monk might be challenging his modus operandi: distancing himself from what could be significant relationships. And shaping his own, wider and more positive, definition of Black identity.
Getting to the heart of the matter… Monk’s mom, upon meeting Coraline, declares: I’m happy you’re not white. Coraline smiles and says: Me too.
Okay, but is American Fiction a Black movie? You tell me 😉
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