In his fourth novel, Sag Harbor, Colson Whitehead chronicles the days that fill Benji Cooper’s summer in the town of Sag Harbor, a black enclave of the Hamptons. This book testifies to the reality of things that aren’t quite whole: Benji’s dysfunctional family, his imperfect vacation blemished by summer jobs, the eventuality of fall, and judgmental white people.
Even Benji’s age, fifteen, affirms the kind of moment that comes before: before an established black upper middle class, before manhood, and before independence from the families into which we are born.
Benji’s life does not fall into line with black stereotypes. His parents are both professionals, and the money and social prestige that this affords puts the family in a relatively unusual situation. When Benji looks out onto the world for some version of his experience he comes up empty. As adolescents, Benji and his friends must deal with this lack of representation as they grope their way towards a sense of self.
Written in the first person, the sentences of this book are playful and work a lot of enjoyable little metaphors without overburdening Benji’s stories. Benji, precocious and profoundly lost, is a pitch-perfect filter for Whitehead’s acute interpretations of people and social situations.
In a way the place Sag Harbor makes all the same promises as other summer vacation spots: easy leisure time, peaceful family interactions, days spent always already satisfied. During the week, Benji and his brother Reggie stay up in Sag Harbor alone while their parents return to the city to work. But even with summer jobs the boys get up to all sorts of hijinks. This book is a celebration of the day-to-day of kids who are under-supervised. The days of this summer float by, filled with quasi-disastrous, socially excruciating adventures with friends and cleaning up before parents return for the weekend. It’s wonderful to tour the boys’ version of the uncomplicated leisure of avoiding boredom. Outside their mundane service jobs, the boys’ days are free of even the ideas of productivity or edification.
The prominent events of Benji’s summer are peppered throughout the book and come upon Benji and the reader by surprise. A BB gun mishap, a girl’s inviting lips — these moments arise suddenly but quietly. Whitehead addresses the sadder moments, the ones that indicate monumental failure and or expose his alcoholic and emotionally abusive father, in a similar way. The one time Benji runs into his older sister that summer she tells him, “Work hard and get into a good school. That way you’re out of the house and that’s it.” Is this harsh advice the product of Elena’s newfound independence at university, or indicative of Benji’s toxic home environment? It’s both, and it’s not quite either, and in the next paragraph she’s gone from the book. These encounters aren’t dressed up as climaxes or moments of revelation; they are loyal to the quotidian and make this book a moving and convincing sojourn.
Vanessa Bonneau is a graduate from the University of King’s College in Halifax, Nova Scotia. She currently lives in Montreal.
