Mark Schiffer

Erasure was one of those books which made me want to buy a copy for every person I meet on the street and shove it into their hands. It's the kind of compelling litfic which far exceeds the bounds of genre and hits something transcendent. Thelonious AKA Monk AKA Stagg R Leigh is sick and tired of being sick and tired of his failing career as a novelist. Publishers keep asking him, “Why aren't you writing about the black experience? No, not THAT black experience, the other one!” So, outta spite, outta anger, outta depression, he writes My Pafology, the most grim and grotesque depiction of black life he has in him. And he gets the deal. This is all supported by an absolutely wrenching depiction of dementia, family dissolution through longform shared traumas, dreams and reveries, and interview transcripts. I tore through this book in two days. There's a movie coming out with Jeffery Wright as Monk, called American Fiction. I couldn't be more excited to see it. Meanwhile, I now have to read as much Percival Everett as I can.