false 4 0 false false Sat Aug 15 00:00:00 -0700 2009 Sun Aug 09 17:36:25 -0700 2009 Sat Aug 15 17:14:49 -0700 2009
I'd read a short bit of Erasure before. It's excerpted in Hokum: An Anthology of African-American Humor. I'd enjoyed the quality of writing but without context the piece didn't resonate much. I picked up the full book this time only because his most recent piece of satire—I Am Not Sidney Poitier—was not yet in stock at the library. I'm thankful for the happy accident. I can relate to Monk. Not in his constant feeling of awkwardness (feeling intensely black but not quite black enough no matter the race of those around him) but in his frustration with the reality that a standard of "black enough" actually exists. The burden and the ridiculousness of these expectations weighs on him at a time when so much of his world is falling apart. He writes something under a pseudonym, sends it to his agent and rather than everyone waking up, the world simply gets more absurd.

And for that recognition of the absurdity of "Realness" and the impeccable quality of Everett's writing, Erasure is well recommended.]]>