I picked up my copy of Paul Sellers‘s latest work four days after it won the Booker Prize. Not only was ‘Winner’ proudly stamped on the front cover, and the author’s bio consequently updated on the inside back; such fresh-minted copies had also made their way as far north as my local bookseller in the City of Perth. That’s quite impressive going by Oneworld, which publishes Sellers in the UK.
Actually published in the US as far back as March 2015, and now marketed in the UK as a ‘lacerating satire’, a quote from Guardian (although, interestingly, the Guardian in question doesn’t appear to be this one), it is certainly satirical on the state of race relations in the US. There is a doubt, however, which is sustained throughout the novel, as to the major target of the satire. Famously, the author has said that he doesn’t know what point is being made in The Sellout – an odd admission, on the face of it, although that might be an entirely legitimate device to allow the reader to approach it in his/her one way, particularly given that this interview was made in launch publicity). Regardless, Sellers is excoriating in his attacks on a variety of targets, from individuals wrapped up in a multitude of petty concerns, to street gangs no longer sure why they’re fighting each other, to intellectuals distanced from what the real issues are, to the failure of senior black figures (Barack Obama, Bill Cosby, Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice all make (disguised) appearances) to achieve real change for ordinary black men and women. The multiplicity of Sellers’s targets makes for confusion as to the purpose and aims of the novel (this reader spent a lot of – ultimately wasted – time considering that the sellout of the title was, quite simply, POTUS) but through such confusion comes the truth that, actually, we’re all to blame for the current state of things.
A US presidential election won on the basis of a racist discourse and with the use of racist tropes, and a resignation of a mayor for an approving, if thoughtlessly naive, response to a clearly racist comment about the First Lady, on top of the evident need for a Black Lives Matter campaign to be fought, all prove the point that race – the fault line throughout modern US history – continues to be the issue which divides the nation despite the election of a black man as President.
Which, it seems, is Sellers’s main point. Race relations appear to have come a long way since the 1950s and Birth Of A Nation, but the events of the past week in the US, on the one hand, and the credible testimony of Bernie Noel, Adrian Chiles’s friend in the BBC’s #blackandbritish campaign, on the other, not only demonstrate how depressingly far they have yet to go but indeed call into question the notion that they have actually come very far at all.
Carrying humour that is sometimes wearingly sardonic and cynical, but always bitingly sharp, The Sellout is genuine satire in that the novel contains little in the way of characterisation and the plot – such as it is: the narrator (a black man) is brought before the Supreme Court for having reinstituted segregation and for slavery offences – is not only weak but features some mystifying developments. The characters are mere playthings, puppets whose strings are all too visible. The narrator, an urban fruit and veg farmer and surfer, but who appears to do very little of the former, has sufficient clout, apparently on the basis of the quality of his produce, to persuade school authorities to embark on a programme of re-segregation. The reason: a segregated bus caused people travelling on it to become more polite since they realised what their parents had been through. And, apparently, this led to improved school results. (BTW: on the issue of intergenerational relations and the spark for passivity or activity in societies torn apart by racism, it’s worth hearing the ‘born-free’ Gigi LaMayne and the Fees Must Fall movement in South Africa.)
Nevertheless, Sellers’s rapier prose and his ability to leave few lodestones in the black emancipation movement untouched (clearly, to start with: school segregation; Rosa Parks) leaves us wondering what we need to do next to deliver a society that is truly post-racial. The complacency of our own selves – Sellers’s ultimate and most meaningful target: specifically in the novel, the black community but, ultimately, absolutely all of us – surely continues to be our most dangerous enemy.
In the context of the direction of contemporary politics in a post-Obama, pre-Trump US and a pre-Brexit UK, The Sellout is a worthy, if flawed, winner of the Booker Prize which, in asking us to confront that complacency, will have done exactly the job an international Prize ought to achieve if it elevates its 2016 flagbearer to a much wider readership.