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LONGLISTED FOR THE PEN/FAULKNER AWARD FOR FICTION - LONGLISTED FOR THE MARK TWAIN AMERICAN VOICE IN LITERATURE AWARD - FINALIST FOR THE VIRGINIA LITERARY AWARDS - LONGLISTED FOR THE ASPEN WORDS LITERARY PRIZE - INDIE NEXT PICK - NAMED A BEST NOVEL OF THE YEAR BY ELECTRIC LIT - ONE OF TIME MAGAZINE'S 100 MUST-READ BOOKS OF 2024 - A CHICAGO PUBLIC LIBRARY BEST BOOK OF 2024 - FEATURED IN THE LA TIMES, THE ROOT, AND THE CHICAGO REVIEW OF BOOKS
Still reeling from a sudden tragedy, our biracial narrator receives a letter from an attorney: he has just inherited a plot of land from his estranged white grandfather. He travels to a beach town several hours south of his home with the intention of selling the land immediately and moving on. But upon inspection, what lies beneath the dirt is far more complicated than he ever imagined. In a shocking irony, he is now the Black owner of a former plantation passed down by the men on his white mother's side of the family. Vercher deftly blurs the lines between real and imagined, past and present, tragedy and humor, and fathers and sons in this story of discovering and reclaiming a painful past. With the wit and rawness of Paul Beatty's The Sellout, Devil Is Fine is a gripping, surreal, and brilliantly crafted dissection of the legacies we leave behind and those we inherit.Customers Also Bought
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Details
- ISBN-13: 9781250894489
- ISBN-10: 1250894484
- Publisher: Celadon Books
- Publish Date: June 2024
- Dimensions: 9.46 x 6.52 x 1 inches
- Shipping Weight: 0.99 pounds
- Page Count: 272
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Children who have lost their parents are orphans, wives who have lost their husbands are widows, and husbands who have lost their wives are widowers. But there is no word to account for the immense, devastating loss of a child. John Vercher begins Devil Is Fine from this nameless position, as the unnamed narrator, a struggling writer and professor, attends his son Malcolm’s funeral. In contrast to the lack of words for his grief, there are plenty of words (some more acceptable than others) for his racial identity: mixed, biracial, mulatto, etc. Inevitably, these two aspects of our narrator’s identity—the loss of his son and his biracial background—intersect as he finds out he has inherited a plot of land from his estranged grandfather on his white mother’s side of the family. This land, he soon finds out, is a former plantation. Wrestling with the racial history of the land and the meaning of inheriting it, our narrator embarks on a mystical, profound journey into an unraveling identity.
In terms of form, theme and voice, Devil Is Fine is anything but stable. Following the narrator in the first person, the book leaps through time back to when Malcolm was alive and even to when the plantation was in the hands of the narrator's ancestor, with interjections from spirits along the way. One of Vercher’s greatest technical accomplishments is how surprising and urgent this shifting feels as it gives the reader a fuller, richer picture of the identity problems haunting the narrator and a better understanding of how these problems impact all of our lives. Vercher offers no final judgment on the questions of identity that he raises: The narrator has an ambiguous relationship to writing "Black" fiction, which he does out of duty but finds both fulfilling and contemptible, a torn feeling that all writers whose work is similarly labeled can relate to. This instability and in-betweenness mirrors identity itself, that thing we each supposedly have that we can never really pin down, that’s always changing and can never wholly describe us.
Children who have lost their parents are orphans, wives who have lost their husbands are widows, and husbands who have lost their wives are widowers. But there is no word to account for the immense, devastating loss of a child. John Vercher begins Devil Is Fine from this nameless position, as the unnamed narrator, a struggling writer and professor, attends his son Malcolm’s funeral. In contrast to the lack of words for his grief, there are plenty of words (some more acceptable than others) for his racial identity: mixed, biracial, mulatto, etc. Inevitably, these two aspects of our narrator’s identity—the loss of his son and his biracial background—intersect as he finds out he has inherited a plot of land from his estranged grandfather on his white mother’s side of the family. This land, he soon finds out, is a former plantation. Wrestling with the racial history of the land and the meaning of inheriting it, our narrator embarks on a mystical, profound journey into an unraveling identity.
In terms of form, theme and voice, Devil Is Fine is anything but stable. Following the narrator in the first person, the book leaps through time back to when Malcolm was alive and even to when the plantation was in the hands of the narrator's ancestor, with interjections from spirits along the way. One of Vercher’s greatest technical accomplishments is how surprising and urgent this shifting feels as it gives the reader a fuller, richer picture of the identity problems haunting the narrator and a better understanding of how these problems impact all of our lives. Vercher offers no final judgment on the questions of identity that he raises: The narrator has an ambiguous relationship to writing "Black" fiction, which he does out of duty but finds both fulfilling and contemptible, a torn feeling that all writers whose work is similarly labeled can relate to. This instability and in-betweenness mirrors identity itself, that thing we each supposedly have that we can never really pin down, that’s always changing and can never wholly describe us.