James

by Percival Everett

Religion is just a controlling tool they employ and adhere to when convenient.”

Luke chuckled. “So, when we see him staggering around later acting the fool, will that be an example of proleptic irony or dramatic irony?” “Could be both.” “Now that would be ironic.”

I DIDN’T SO MUCH swim to shore as the river spat me out. Spat me out into a terrible bramble of blackberries. Unripe blackberries, so the insult was complete.

“NOUS DEVONS CULTIVER notre jardin.”

I had never seen a white man filled with such fear. The remarkable truth, however, was that it was not the pistol, but my language, the fact that I didn’t conform to his expectations, that I could read, that had so disturbed and frightened him.