David Kronke: Cultural moment: "Apex Hides the Hurt"

Just to thoughtfully ensure that you, the faithful blog reader, emerges a nominally well-rounded individual, we’ll slip in an occasional book review here, as well. (Honest: Books are entertainment, too.)

First up: Colson Whitehead’s “Apex Hides the Hurt�? (Doubleday, $22.95). Though he’s only just got four books under his belt, Whitehead is fast becoming a favorite of mine, with a keen satirical sensibility. His first book, “The Intuitionist,�? remains my favorite: It’s about a mid-20th-century elevator inspector in New York, which is what-the? enough before Whitehead adds the elements of mechanical metaphysics and racism. “John Henry Days�? was a more conventional effort, blending contemporary media criticism with another look at race. “The Colossus of New York�? was a series of post-9/11 essays on the city that apparently suffers from insomnia.

“Apex Hides the Hurt,�? by contrast, is a sort of minor work with big ideas burbling inside it. Whitehead told me about an idea he had for this book five years ago, but it seems as though he didn’t think it worked on its own and so he tucked it into this novel, about a “nomenclature consultant�? who is recruited to rename a small town at the behest of a techno-billionaire who lives there. The protagonist is a legend in his field for launching a Band-Aid competitor who created a series of bandage strips replicating the colors of races beyond Caucasians.

Two issues that seem peripheral, but are actually at the heart of the proceedings, highlight Whitehead’s book. There’s the notion that minorities cling tenaciously (more tenaciously, in fact, than the sticky strips themselves), even profoundly, to the concept of their identity, because sometimes, that’s all they have. And there’s the whole love/hate thing with the idea of words themselves – few authors have so eloquently and so baldly explored, and luxuriated in, and criticized, how the simple art of phrasing things can elevate, inspire, manipulate and create maudlin responses in those who receive those words.

All that said, the narrative throughline’s pretty weak. The protagonist has not one but two seemingly unmotivated very-public existential meltdowns in a mere 210 pages. Look, if you’re a professional, well, anything, you know the first rule of business is that, to paraphrase those Las Vegas commercials, whatever happens in your head stays in your head.

So, enjoy “Apex Hides the Hurt�? for its clever writing and sly takes on significant issues, but ignore the fact that it has any plot whatsoever.