James by Percival Everett is the retelling of a story first published in 1884 – Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain – only this version tells the story from the point of view of Jim, the runaway slave who accompanied Huck on his adventure.
Telling the story through Jim’s eyes brings a whole new perspective to this classic story and pulls no punches in recounting what life was like for an African American slave in the early nineteenth century. But as always, Everett’s sharp wit also brings great humour to the tale.
I first came across Percival Everett when I watched the BAFTA Award-winning movie, American Fiction which was adapted from his 2001 novel, Erasure. Sharp, witty and deliciously satirical, I then read his Tall Trees novel which I loved and will probably review at some stage. Having lent Tall Trees to a neighbour, she then bought the hard copy of James and lent it to us – thank you, Sue.
Synopsis of James by Percival Everett
S taying entirely true to the Mark Twain original story, Jim overhears talk that Miss Watson, plantation owner and Huck’s guardian, intends to sell him to a New Orleans plantation which would mean separation from his wife and daughter. To avoid this enforced estrangement, he escapes and hides out on nearby Jackson Island. His plan is to try to get downriver to one of the free states so he can earn enough money to buy the freedom of his wife and daughter.
Meanwhile, and each unknown to the other, to escape the brutality of his abusive alcoholic father, Huck fakes his own death and runs away to Jackson Island. As soon as Jim hears what Huck has done, the dye is irrevocably cast:
“What you doin’ out here?” the boy asked.
“Furst off, I’m freezin’,” I said. “What you be doin’ on dis ilan? And why you got blood all ova ya?”
“I kilt myself,” the boy said.
I looked him over. “You din’t do a good job.”
“Well, Miss Watson, that damn judge and Pap think I’m dead and that’s all that matters. They think I was murdered.”
“Why dey think dat?” I asked.
”I kilt a pig and spread his blood all round Pap’s cabin. I made a mess like there had been a fight in there.”
In my head I was doing the math. Huck was supposedly murdered and I’d just run away. Who did I think they would suspect of the heinous crime?
If either of them returned, they would be unlikely to survive the consequences, so they hide out on the island, waiting each day until after nightfall to light a fire and cook catfish. But when men come onto the island looking for them, they have no choice but to leave. Taking to the river in a canoe and letting the current carry them, they embark on an extraordinary odyssey. Constantly facing the threat of being caught, drowning, starving, or freezing to death, the two runaways navigate the dangerous waters of the Mississippi.
The original storyline, already a breathless adventure and a parody on the hypocrisy of a society that supports slavery in the name of humanity, is heightened by Everett’s astute humour and dialogue. Where Twain merely hinted at the fallacy of the superiority of the white man but was still reduced to using a stereotype for Jim, Everett’s ingenious retelling takes a sledgehammer to the racist ignorance.
In James, Jim is a highly intelligent, articulate and literate man but like all the slaves, he maintains a charade of being dumb because to let his masters think otherwise would result in punishment. As we enter Jim’s world, the careful maintenance of the charade is the first thing we discover about the slaves:
That evening I sat down with Lizzie and six other children in our cabin and gave a language lesson.
“Let’s try some situational translations. Something extreme first. You’re walking down the street and you see that Mrs Holiday’s kitchen is on fire. She’s standing in her yard, her back to her house, unaware. How do you tell her?”
“Fire, Fire,” January said.
“Direct. And that’s almost correct,” I said.
The youngest of them, lean and tall five-year-old Rachel, said, “Lawdy, missum! Looky dere.”
“Perfect,” I said. “Why is that correct?”
Lizzie raised her hand. “Because we must let the whites be the ones who name the trouble.”
“And why is that?” I asked.
February said, “Because they need to know everything before us. Because they need to name everything.”
“Good, good. You all are really smart today. Okay, let’s imagine now that it’s a grease fire. She’s left bacon unattended on the stove. Mrs Holiday is about to throw water on it. What do you say? Rachel?”
Rachel paused. “Missums, that water gone make it wurs!”
“Of course, that’s true, but what’s the problem with that?”
Virgil said, “You’re telling her she’s doing the wrong thing.”
I nodded. “So, what should you say?”
Lizzie looked at the ceiling and spoke while thinking it through. “Would you like for me to get some sand?”
“Correct approach, but you didn’t translate it.”
She nodded. “Oh, Lawd, missums ma’am, you wan fo me to gets some sand?”
“Good.”
This early part of James by Percival Everett provides wonderful humour as from time to time, even Jim himself lapses into proper diction, scaring Huck who is so taken aback he can barely comprehend what’s coming out of Jim’s mouth. Danger beckons at every twist and turn in the river, the journey taking them ever further into unknown territory. Reliant on each other for their continued survival, their relationship grows stronger, and Huck begins to mature and occasionally show a wisdom beyond his years.
When the situation threatens to take the lives of two people, one black and one white, both of whom are dear to him, Jim is forced to make a decision, and the truth has to come out.
My review
E verett’s mission is to recognise the role of Jim in this adventure, beginning with his proper name, James, and in so doing, to redress the stereotyping of slaves, perpetuated even by Twain himself. When Jim manages to get hold of a pencil, he begins to write his memoir and to shatter the stereotype:
‘My name is James.
…I can tell you that I am a man who is cognizant of his world, a man who has a family, who loves a family, who has been torn from his family, a man who can read and write, a man who will not let his story be self-related, but self-written.’
With my pencil, I wrote myself into being. I wrote myself to here.
When, early in the tale, Jim is bitten by a snake and the poison makes him delirious, he imagines he’s in conversation with Voltaire about the existential nature of race and equality. At one point, wracked with guilt over the consequences of his acquisition of a pencil, and again later when Jim is in danger of drowning, John Locke briefly appears to him and provides another vehicle for debating the morality of slavery.
But before I give the impression James is like a history lecture wrapped up in an old tale, be assured it is not. More than anything it is a rollercoaster of a ride through America’s pre-civil war south that brings a fresh perspective to a classic story while also exposing the brutality of the slavery system and the nauseating ignorance, arrogance and narcissism of those who perpetuated it.
Brilliant, superb, witty and compelling (just flicking through it again to find suitable quotes has resulted in me rereading a good proportion of it) I was delighted that James by Percival Everett was shortlisted for the Booker Prize Winner 2024. Huge congratulations to the winner, Samantha Harvey, and I look forward to reading Orbital.
