"I was expecting one kind of trouble, when another came knocking at my door." So begins Walter Mosley's latest novel, "Fear of the Dark." It's a provocative read that shows — albeit unevenly — Mr. Mosley's talent at capturing the voice of the downtrodden black man, and why the veteran author is the master of racial mischief.
Walter Mosley is best known for his Easy Rawlins mysteries, books about a black man trying to stake his American dream in a segregated, post-war California. Whereas Easy is somber and tough, the diminutive hero of "Fear of the Dark," Paris Minton, is decidedly un-heroic. What Easy and Paris share, however, is a lack of illusion about their place in the world (specifically, Los Angeles circa the 1950s), and the men who move it.
"Fear of the Dark" is the third outing for cowardly bookseller Paris Minton and his street-tough friend Fearless Jones. Trouble finds Paris this time in the form of his hapless cousin, Ulysses S. Grant — "Useless" to everyone but his mother. It's these small details that Mosley is devilishly good at that create a sense of space and time that is both comedic and tragic in the Fearless series — emancipated slaves and their descendants, stripped of their name and ancestry by the white man, taking the name of the white man. Paris knows Useless is bad luck, but he also knows going against his cousin's mother, Three of Hearts, who can hex with her "evil-eye," is worse. So Paris agrees to track down the wayward son when she lands on his shop doorstep, suitcase in hand.
On the whole, the plot is so-so — believable but uninspiring — and introduces characters that don't drive the narrative, like Paris' bookworm friend Ms. Ashe Knowles. Her only apparent purpose is to show us that a black woman can read and have thoughts. An additional subplot involves Paris' sexual prowess. He's "what genteel folk called well-endowed." Paris gets involved with a white woman named Jessa, and their intimacy is a powder keg for white anger.
At times, the narrator's thoughts seem patchy, telling rather than showing the acts of racism that color his world. Perhaps this is a tad critical, but readers have grown to expect more out of Mr. Mosley.
Prior to opening "Fear of the Dark," the audience holds certain expectations of his characters, too. Whereas Easy is the voice of peace, Paris is the voice of anger. There is a scene early on where Paris, with the help of his below-board friends, is disposing of a body and explains: "We all belonged in that truck together. We had been put there by a long and unremitting history. My guilt was my skin, and where that brought me had nothing to do with choice or justice." It's a sad state, indeed, if a black man links his skin color with avenues of deception and law-breaking.
But the black man's voice of peace or anger, his social commentary, is what defines a Mosley novel. The author can push racial buttons that tune us, as does his jolting dialogue and wave-like rhythm. It's storytelling that causes reflexive reactions: "One of his nostrils was wider than its brother, and the knuckles of his fists were misshapen, probably from beating on smaller men like me." Mosley is one of the few writers that can invoke a descriptive power reminiscent of Raymond Chandler, yet remain wonderfully his own man.
Overall, Walter Mosley is an enjoyable author. He brought a fresh voice to the mystery genre and can spin a tale like few can. But at $25.99, "Fear of the Dark" strikes me as overpriced and destined for the airport trade.
For those who want to see the author in his prime, pick up "Devil in a Blue Dress," Mosley's first and best mystery (then rent the underrated 1995 Hollywood version of the same name starring Denzel Washington). If you've already read it, and his other powerful contributions such as "Black Betty" and "Fearless Jones," go ahead and fork over the three sawbucks for "Fear of the Dark." An under-hyped Walter Mosley novel is almost always better than an over-hyped bestseller.
Want to talk books with Jed? E-mail him at [email protected].
Grade: 2.5 out of 5
