Hari Kunzru

Ghost Voices

In human history, voices precluded from speaking, not just lost but knowingly suppressed before anyone can hear them, number in the millions. Charlie Shaw, the pivotal character in Hari Kunzru White Tears, a musician who at first doesn’t exist, then exists as the product of Seth’s and Carter’s imaginations, and finally as a ghost voice reaching out over the years to haunt Seth, and to be heard, finally, can be read as the allegorical representation of these many millions show more who were repressed by others. You’re left to wonder what the untold lost voices might have said about their own oppression, as does Charlie about his, or what they might have contributed, as Charlie might have to the evolution of the Blues.

Kunzru’s novel opens as a mystery, the mystery of whom the seemingly invented Charlie Shaw was. Seth, something of an amateur sound archeologist, excavating the sounds and voices around him, hears a black chess player in Washington Square sing “Believe I buy a graveyard of my own/Believe I buy me a graveyard of my own/Put my enemies all down in the ground,” the first of five tercets. When Carter, a wealthy guy whom Seth met in art school who likes old-time analog sound and enjoys audibly antiquing recordings, pushes Seth to create a 78rpm version of the song, along with an authentic looking shellac plate and label, they set in motion a chain of events that, in the end, transcend the boundaries of time.

A mysterious collector appears to inform them that Charlie Shaw was real, an early 20th century musical pioneer, and their record must be the missing, and thus very rare, platter recorded at the Saint James Hotel in Jackson, Mississippi in the Twenties. What’s more, he claims it is the very recording sought decades earlier by his collector mentor, Chester Bly, the quest for which drove the man mad. Seth, after Carter turns up beaten into insensibility and in something of a sexually inspired puerile alliance with Leonie, Carter’s sister, retraces Bly’s quest. The consequences not only prove deadly, but the endeavor opens Seth to a sort of possession by the spirit of Charlie Shaw. In this state, he traverses time, often times in a single sentence, in which Carter’s family, the Wallaces, play a prominent part in the art of repression that grows and multiplies into a giant conglomerate, at the heart of which is correctional management, that is, private prisons.

White Tears is a novel that begins conventionally then dashes headlong into an impressionistic exploration of repression and racism, with a side trip into the proclivities of the one-percent. show less

When you listen to an old record, there can be no illusion that you are present at a performance. You are listening through a gray drizzle of static, a sound like rain. You can never forget how far away you are. You always hear it, the sound of distance in time.

I didn't want to read this book. Two dudebros meet at a prestigious university and through their shared love of old school methods of recording music and their authentic love of the blues, open a recording studio and do well for show more themselves. Which is, I discovered to my delight, not actually what happens. Yes, there are two dudebros, wealthy, out-going Carter and passive, detail-oriented Seth. They do become friends in college and, after graduation, they do move to New York and create a recording studio, which specializes in using old equipment for a more authentic sound. But there's more at work here. Seth and Carter aren't really friends. Seth is Carter's sidekick, the faithful friend who tags along and who does the actual work. Carter is wealthy, of the kind of wealthy that can buy himself a recording studio, fill it with obscure and expensive equipment and then run that studio badly, without having to worry about paying the bills. He's wealthy enough to become a collector of old, hard to find blues recordings and to allow that hobby to fill up his time.

Seth spends a lot of his time wandering around the city, recording the ambient sounds. He records a small segment of a song sung by a man leaving a chess match and that piece of music becomes the basis for a recording that Carter and Seth made, intended to sound like it had been made in the 1920s. That recording sets off something much deeper than either man are prepared to handle.

There's a lot addressed here, from classicism to the appropriation of black culture, but Hari Kunzru's skillful handling allows him to hit these issues hard, while never sacrificing the forward momentum of the story. The last third of the novel is relentless and frightening, with every thread and character trait developed in the opening chapters bearing fruit in the final ones. This is a brilliant book that deserves a wide readership. show less

“So tell me, was that a black thing or a white thing? No, that was music.”

Whoever knew that record collecting could be so violent? White Tears is a haunting novel that revolves around record collecting, cultural appropriation, and the ownership of music. It is a very dark tale that gives voice to the ghosts of obsession, racism, and exploitation. At the center of the novel is a piece of blues music: a song that may or may not exist by a remnant of a man who may have been invented.

White show more Tears is a strange and terrifying tale that pulls off the amazing feet of getting to the soul of American racism. It is a story that begins with and maintains a high level of realism then shifts, becomes part horror with elements of the supernatural. It may seem the book goes off the rails at this point, because the continuity differs from what the reader has come to expect, and it certainly takes a while to feel like it's back “on track.” In the end, the pieces all come together and make a solid portrait of obsession and vengeance. Despite the instability this abrupt midpoint change may cause, the book never loses its cadence or brilliance.

And it is brilliantly written. It works on several levels and the more one contemplates it, the more one may find. For instance, it just dawned on me right now that throughout the novel, there's an obsession with “What's on the B side?” of this mysterious song. The book is similarly divided. The first half is straight-forward and audible. But the second half—that's the unknown.

Hari Kunzru's latest is unique and breathtaking in a sea of books that often mimic one another. It takes some flexibility from a reader and certainly demands one's full attention, but it's worth the effort. show less

This is a remarkable, affecting, memorable mélange of music, mystery, "going down to the crossroads", and "eat the rich". Seth is an awkward introverted audio geek of no stature at his liberal arts college until he's befriended by Carter, a mentally fuzzy scion of one of the country's wealthiest families. They share a passion for the blues and after graduation, Carter appeals to his family for funds to open a recording studio in New York. All plans and their lives go completely awry when show more Seth records what he hears after a chess game in Washington Sq park, a few lines sung by the winner. When Seth has finished cleaning up the recording, an entire song "Graveyard Blues" appears from nowhere. When the song is released, a purist collector claims that the artist is the long missing bluesman Charlie Shaw. Complete disaster ensues when Seth heads south to get some answers. His travels parallel a similar trip forty years earlier by the collector JumpJim, whose own terrible tale folds into Seth's nightmare.

I had to read this twice to really divine the author's intent. Not sure if it was me reading too fast or the writer being deliberately misleading, and it doesn't matter. Kunzru is a master of mood, setting, and sentiment. White Tears is an incredibly strong indictment of virulent racism and its mate, appalling privilege.

Quote: "In person, he had...the unbreachable membrane of legal decorum, the suggestion that everything he did was correct because he did it, that your impertinent questions could not touch him, would in fact only rebound on you." show less