😀😀😀_ _
There is a long history of fiction that is written as a thinly veiled representation of famous people in a segment of society. Collette and Simone de Beauvoir wrote about Paris society. The Man Who Cried I Am (1967), by John A. Williams, gives the same treatment to African-American intellectuals of the 1950’s and 60’s.
Published in 1967, The Man Who Cried I Am follows the life of Max Reddick, am African-American writer who is deeply involved with the literary and political world of that era. It includes characters based on Richard Wright, James Baldwin, Martin Luther King Jr., and Malcom X. Williams’ story explores the racism of of that era on many levels, and offers a realistic and nuanced look at it from the inside. Whether it is the problem of getting books published, finding steady employment as a writer, or just interacting with white society, The Man does not shy away from racism. It follows Max through is his life in the United States, World War II, and living as an ex-pat in both Europe and Africa.
I can’t say that this book really engaged me. I had trouble holding interest in it, mostly, I feel because I did not find great insight into the historical characters presented. I feel that they are all presented as the visible surface of the people that they represent, without (except for one character) any real depth. I also have to say that the “surprise ending” that takes up the last 10% of the book, did not serve the author’s intent. It was an idea that deserved its own book, but here seemed to me a dive into conspiracy, when the reality is mean enough on its own.
The Man Who Cried I Am is worth a read if you have an interest in Black intellectuals of that era, the history of the United States, or of racism in this country. The protagonist is thoughtful portrayed, I just wish the others would have been also.