When I first heard about Percival Everett’s James, I thought rewriting Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn from the slave’s perspective was an inventive idea. When I finished reading the book, I thought exploring the interior life of and giving voice to the slave, Jim, was genius.
Evidently, I was not alone, as James won the National Book Award for 2024, and was selected by both The Washington Post and The New York Times Book Review as one of the best books of 2024.
It’s not only the idea of “translating” Huckleberry Finn that’s so incredible to me. It’s the rare and raw telling of what life was like for enslaved people just a couple of decades before the 20th century. Like many others, to more fully appreciate James, I felt compelled to reread Huckleberry Finn.
What struck me most intensely in Twain’s telling of the storywere the ordeals Jim had to suffer for the amusement of Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer. The boys were not being purposely malicious toward Jim. They—Tom Sawyer in particular—were having an adventure at Jim’s expense, seemingly ignorant of the physical hardship their plans required and apparently oblivious to Jim’s urgent need to rescue his family.
In contrast to Huckleberry Finn, in James, Huck and Jim were friends helping one another. Their trials were shared. Often it was essential for them to be united in plans and purposes to be safe from discovery.The human connection between Huck and Jim is deeper than their status as slave and White boy. Both were seeking their own respective freedoms and they relied on one another for what each could bring to their endeavor.
In Huckleberry Finn, Jim had no agency. If he wanted help he had to acquiesce to every whim of the boys. However, though he appears an unwitting victim in the games the boys played and served as their human toy, he knew the ways of White folks.
In James, it’s clear that knowing the ways of White folks was the best defense against some of the hard realities of being a slave. The next best defense was knowing White folks better than White folks knew the slaves.
In James, Everett expertly describes code switching as if it were a foreign language spoken by people who understood that to be seen as intelligent or even having the desire to learn—such as opening a book or harboring a pencil—could be the difference between life and death.
James is not only genius in its approach as a novel but does what art does best in challenging those who behold it and allow themselves to consider the important questions raised. In what ways do we continue to code switch and employ survival techniques? How can we be more responsible with our own agency, acknowledge and respect the inherent agency and dignity of others, and find balance in it all? How can understanding the varying perspectives of those with whom we travel different parts of life’s journey help all of the parties involved?
Gwen Dungy 