When Colson Whitehead – one of only four writers to win the Pulitzer Prize twice – was at the Auckland Writers Festival this year, he quipped before a packed auditorium, “I cannot tell you how much I have learned about mid-century American furnishing.” His compulsion to make his narrative feel genuine meant his research for Harlem Shuffle and its new sequel, Crook Manifesto, also took him deep into 1960s American sitcoms and every heist movie he could get his hands on.
Having won Pulitzers for The Underground Railroad and The Nickel Boys, in 2021 Whitehead introduced us to the character of Ray Carney, a likeable, educated furniture salesman who has a side hustle in stolen goods. “Carney was only slightly bent when it came to being crooked” was the brilliant opening quote from the first story of Harlem Shuffle. We venture deep into Upper Manhattan in a period of significant change: old buildings being razed to the ground and there’s rioting on the streets. The first book has three distinct stories, set in 1959, 1961 and 1964, allowing us to see the twisting evolution of the whole Carney family; from Carney senior, the small-time crook who was eventually shot dead by the police, to his son Ray, who tries to steer clear of everything his father stood for. One of the constant features of Harlem Shuffle – and its sequel – is just how hard it is to keep out of trouble. Even the cops are asking for a weekly white envelope of protection money from Carney’s furniture store. Everybody is more than a bit crooked.
Crook Manifesto employs a similar format. Three separate tales, this time covering 1971, 1973 and 1976, each about 100 pages long. The final book of the planned trilogy will take us into the 1980s.
Carney is still in the uneasy position of being a crook with morals. He wants the best for his wife and two children, but some of his comfortable life is down to dodgy dealing, acting as a fence for stolen goods, and not just the occasional TV set or fancy rug ‒ but often high-end jewellery. His most enduring feature has to be the way he enters a room and, rather than looking for a trap or a quick get-away route, appraises the vintage, comfort and quality of the sofas, the wood finish used on the tables and chairs.
The first of the three new tales raises the familiar figure of Munson, the cop who previously extorted protection money. Now, things are a little different. Munson’s game is up and he is cashing out and looking to skip town. He is stealing everything he can get his hands on and Carney is in the wrong place at the wrong time. Looking for the best chance to score tickets for his daughter to see a Jackson 5 concert, Carney ends up as the unwilling accomplice to a series of heists, robberies and a killing. This is a new side to Carney, who had spent the previous four years avoiding any hint of his former criminal pursuits.
The second story centres on Pepper, an old-school hard man who is happy to dole out the beatings when required, but this time is on the wrong end of a baseball bat. Pepper used to work alongside Carney’s father. Now he is known as Uncle Pepper to Carney’s children, who have no idea just how violent he can be. Despite his tough-guy side, Pepper is another likeable character. But Carney puts him in danger by asking him to find who has been setting fires around the city. His questions stir up a heap of trouble, exposing corruption at all levels. Suddenly, everyone has something to lose.
Pepper describes the men that light the fires in a manner typical of the book: “He’d worked with shaky, pencil-necked dudes who went stone-cold when they kneeled before a safe, and bloodthirsty hit men who were thoroughly henpecked. But every fire-bug he’d met had been furtive and squirrelly both on and off the job. The profession attracted nut jobs. The type of guys Pepper sought were single-room-occupancy men, hot-plate men, shitty tippers who never passed a pay phone without checking for errant dimes, and they dreamed of fire.”
The dialogue is streetwise and the locations have a layer of grime that makes them feel genuine. Crook Manifesto may not be quite as accomplished as Harlem Shuffle, but it’s setting us up for a grand finale.
Crook Manifesto, by Colson Whitehead (Fleet, $37)
