The New Jim Crow Book Review

Growing up, I thought very little about prisons or the people locked up in this country.  If I did, it might have been in a very Hollywood or crime show kind of way: “Bad” people are locked up in order to keep the rest of society safe.  It wasn’t until I began volunteering in prisons when I was in college through a course I took that I thought about the reality of our criminal justice system.

Michelle Alexander’s book, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness didn’t tell me much I didn’t already know, but the picture it paints is a scathing critique of our heavily racialized criminal justice system.  In the introduction, Alexander tells us her book is for two groups of people, either the people who maybe don’t know much about how mass incarceration works in this country but are open to criticisms of it being racist and corrupt or people who already know the realities of the system but want the facts and details to bolster their arguments when talking with people who still think that we only lock up “bad” people to keep the rest of society safe, and the fact that we lock up so many brown and Black men has more to do with their criminal behavior and poor lifestyle choices than anything inherently wrong with our system.

I am part of this second group of people, and so reading this book certainly gave me the statistics and stories to counter the prevailing narrative of mass incarceration in this country.  And I couldn’t have read it at a more critical point in our nation’s story, this point of a wider conversation about how “Black lives matter” in the wake of the killing of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri and Eric Garner in New York.  It feels like I’ve had far too many conversations lately in which perhaps well-meaning, “color blind” people argue that, while it’s sad that these men died, they shouldn’t have been engaged in illegal activity, and, if there is a widespread fear of Black men, it’s justified given the violence and criminality of impoverished urban areas.

Alexander debunks this notion and shows how American’s “war on drugs” parallels other moments in our nation’s history, from Reconstruction to Jim Crow.

She begins with a discussion of Reconstruction and helps us to understand how so many white folks came to side with the wealthy landowners who sought to keep Black men and women oppressed post-slavery.  She argues that poor whites were as much a pawn in the game, that they were equally under the thumb of the owning class and so had to be taught to hate Blacks, otherwise the poor and oppressed would vastly outnumber those in power.  This history continues today, with the myth of the American Dream.  Poor and working-class people must believe that they can “make it” in a system that is stacked against them, and they must believe that anyone who doesn’t “make it” is simply lazy, criminal, or otherwise undeserving.  This myth helps to perpetuate a system which seeks to lock up vast numbers of poor Black and brown men.

Alexander provides a number of studies which find that illegal drug use is pretty much equal across racial groups and that, if there is a disparity, it tends towards white people using more than others.  However the United States is the most incarcerating nation in the world, and the vast majority of folks locked up are people of color.  “In some states, black men have been admitted to prison on drug charges at rates twenty to fifty times greater than those of white men.  And in major cities wracked by the drug war, as many as 80 percent of young African American men now have criminal records and are thus subject to legalized discrimination for the rest of their lives.”

Alexander further demonstrates how the war on drugs was specifically leveraged against our nation’s most marginalized groups with mandatory minimum sentencing and disparate sentences for crack cocaine use versus powdered cocaine use (the former being primarily a drug used by poor, Black communities, the latter largely used by wealthier, whiter folks).  The drug war and mass incarceration is extremely lucrative, and Alexander takes us through all the ways that states stand to gain from militarizing their police force and locking people up.  One flaw in the book is that she says relatively little about how prisons are big business in this country.  She touches on it by noting towards the end of the book how many people would be unemployed if we cut our prison population dramatically.  I feel it’s worth noting that lots of people have a vested interest in making sure we lock folks up, not just the states and local jurisdictions who get paid by the feds if they make drug arrests or get to garnish property even if they don’t convict.  A number of major corporations use prison labor, and private prisons are some of the best selling stock on Wall Street.

Alexander goes on to detail all the ways that, once someone is in the system, even if they’ve never served jail time, they are at a disadvantage for the rest of their lives.

Thousands of people are swept into the criminal justice system every year pursuant to the drug war without much regard for their guilt or innocence.  The police are allowed by the courts to conduct fishing expeditions for drugs on streets and freeways based on nothing more than a hunch.  Homes may be searched for drugs based on a tip from an unreliable, confidential informant who is trading the information for money or to escape prison time.  And once swept inside the system, people are often denied attorneys or meaningful representation and pressured into plea bargains by the threat of unbelievably harsh sentences–sentences for minor drug crimes that are higher than many countries impose on convicted murders. 

Many states bar felons from ever voting, which means that a huge portion of the Black electorate is underrepresented, and employers may legally discriminate against anyone with a record, meaning that these people find it very hard to ever find meaningful employment, thus leading to a vicious cycle of recidivism.

If there’s any doubt that the criminal justice system disproportionately harms Black men, consider the issue of alcohol abuse and drunk driving.  By the end of the eighties,

drunk drivers were responsible for approximately 22,000 deaths annually, while overall alcohol-related deaths were close to 100,000 a year…The total of all drug-related deaths due to AIDS, drug overdose, or the violence associated with the illegal drug trade, was estimated at 21,000 annually–less than the number of deaths directly caused by drunk drivers, and a small fraction of the number of alcohol-related deaths that occur every year. 

However, sentences punishing drunk drivers are typically two days for a first offense and two to ten days for a second offense; while someone convicted of possession of a tiny amount of crack cocaine serves a minimum of five years in federal prison.  Why are these sentences so different?  Why, even though drunk driving is far more likely to result in death, are drunk drivers so leniently dealt with? Drunk drivers are predominately white and male.

White men comprised 78 percent of the arrests for this offense in 1990 when new mandatory minimums governing drunk drivers were being adopted…Although drunk driving carries a far greater risk of violent death then the use or sale of illegal drugs, the societal response to drunk drivers has generally emphasized keeping the person function and in society, while attempting to respond to the dangerous behavior through treatment and counseling.  People charged with drug offense, though, are disproportionately poor people of color.  They are typically charged with felonies and sentenced to prison. 

Alexander’s book is engaging and enraging.  She cites a number of studies and covers a lot of ground.  She also roots her critique in personal stories to help heighten the emotional pull of her anger.  She lays out her argument very clearly, and I have the hope that other people besides her two groups she intends as her audience would read it; I wish I could hand it to every person who ever argued with me about my volunteering in prison by saying that prisoners don’t deserve theatre workshops or every person I’ve argued with recently who, in the guise of colorblindness, condemn the protesters in the Black Lives Matter movement.  Ideally, policy makers would hear Alexander’s call as well.  As a nation, things are going to have to change if we want to truly claim racial equality.

One fact that she cites that’s worth mentioning is that the less educated a person is, the more likely they are to favor a punitive approach to crime.  Hopefully, we become more educated as a nation and, instead of claiming colorblindness, which Alexander says, as an ideal, “is premised on the notion that we, as a society, can never be trusted to see race and treat each other fairly or with genuine compassion,” and begin to dissect the ways our criminal justice is deeply racist and deeply flawed.

Top Ten Books of 2014

I had a hard time identifying my top ten books of the year. In part, this is because I was a tough customer: Being a new mom meant that I read less than last year, and it also meant that a book had to be really good to capture my attention, since my mind was so thoroughly exhausted and entranced by my new baby.  So I definitely had fewer books this year that I loved.  I had some clear favorites, but then beyond these were a whole bunch of books that I loved but that didn’t necessarily stand out.  Choosing from these books to make a nice even “top ten” was hard.  I’m sure I could have a whole bunch of “honorable mentions,” but I’ll keep the list a tidy ten.

In The Light of What We Know by Zia Haider Rahman

This book was the best book I’ve read in a long time; I am surprised it didn’t win any awards this year. (See review below.)

Motherless Brooklyn by Jonathan Lethem

What makes this book stand out among the many that I read this year is its voice. The narrator has Tourette syndrome, and his tics are funny and illuminating, often shedding light on the strange sounds of words or their relationships to other words; there’s a poetry to the language of his malady, and I laughed out loud many times while reading this. The novel is a crime novel, which is not really a genre I get excited about, and, I have to admit that I wasn’t as interested in the unwinding of the mystery as perhaps other readers might be, but it was still a remarkable read.

Fortress of Solitude by Jonathan Lethem

I liked Motherless Brooklyn so much that I decided to read Lethem’s later novel. This is a bildungsroman of sorts that spans several decades starting in the 1970s in Brooklyn. The protagonist is the white son of counter-culturalists who are some of the first whites to move into the lower-income Black Gowanus neighborhood. Despite his befriending of the hip, biracial son of a great soul singer, the protagonist, Dylan, is bullied and teased for being white. The novel follows his friendship with Mingus as the two delve into comic books, music, graffiti, and sex, and it explores race politics, gentrification, art, and more.  And, oh yeah, there’s this little supernatural element thrown in; this fantastical element only lightly affects the plot and in some ways reads more like allegory than anything, but it means that Fortress of Solitude is not just a typical, straightforward coming-of-age novel.

A Hologram for the King by Dave Eggers

Aging, struggling Alan Clay finds himself in Saudi Arabia to sell holographic technology to the King.  Though he and his associates must wait endlessly to meet with a representative for the King in what becomes a Kafkaesque situation, he still hopes that this sale will stave off financial ruin and help fund his daughter’s college tuition.  Clay is the ultimate old-school American businessman: He believed in the promise of entrepreneurship and started his own bike manufacturing company.  But times have changed, and now manufacturing is being outsourced, and more and more Americans are unsure how they fit in the changing economy.  This is the context for Egger’s novel, which is full of these larger scale ruminations about our social landscape while still being an intimate, sometimes sad, sometimes funny portrait of a man who is very human.

The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach

This book wasn’t much more than just a really good story with developed, interesting characters, but it caught me right off.  It helps that I love baseball, in part because it’s such a mental and psychological game, and Harbach’s novel spends a lot of time exploring the psychology of baseball.  It’s not just about baseball though, which is why a reader who isn’t interested in the sport could find this compelling as well.  It has unconventional (and conventional) romances, delves into father/daughter relationships, and explores college life. The characters are flawed but likeable and realistic, and the story unfolds in interesting ways.

Runaway by Alice Munro

I feel like I need not say much about Alice Munro since she’s so prolific and so widely loved.  That said, I sheepishly admit that this was the first complete collection of stories of hers that I’ve read, and I understand the heaps of praise she’s garnered.  Her writing is so precise and seemingly simple.  Her characters are everyday people–in this collection mostly young women–who are in everyday situations, but she brings such honesty and love to these people that even the simplest story seems a revelation.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly by Jean-Dominique Bauby

I was deeply moved by the movie based on this book when it came out in 2007.  I finally got around to reading the book.  The backstory is astounding: Bauby, at the age of forty-three had a stroke.  His mind remained alert while his body was almost completely paralyzed, forcing him into a condition called “locked-in syndrome.”  He still had control of his eye movements and so used these to write this small memoir: his assistant would run through a list of letters, and when she got to the letter he wanted next, he would move his eye.  He tells his story here but does more than that: He ruminates on his memories, contemplates his children, admires beautiful women, all the while working to craft poetry out of a terrible, devastating situation.  It’s a beautiful book.

Man V. Nature by Diane Cook

This collection of stories is often surreal and funny: In the opening story, widows are imprisoned while they await a new husband to select them for remarriage.  Another story involves the final days for a wealthy man living in his mansion while the waters rise around him as the world ends, and my favorite story, “Somebody’s Baby” is about a neighborhood where a man steals babies.  Cook’s voice is deadpan but also observant.  Many of the stories feel allegorical and about bigger ideas, though they stand on their own as simply good stories too.  In “Somebody’s Baby,” for instance, Linda is distraught about the kidnapping of her brand new baby daughter, and yet the neighbors all assure her that she can just have another, that everyone knows the man takes babies, and there’s really nothing to do but accept it.   This story has a sadness to it, not only because babies are being stolen, but because I know that many people live in this world with the reality that their babies could be taken by war, disease, or poverty, and “there’s nothing to do but accept it.”

The Paying Guests by Sarah Waters

Frances and her mother have fallen on hard times after World War I and so must take in boarders in order to make ends meet.  This is, at first, an uncomfortable situation, but Frances eventually grows close to Lilian, the young wife.  Lilian seems to be unhappily married to Len, and their marriage becomes further complicated by Lilian’s growing feelings for Frances, an unconventional young woman.  Like The Art of Fielding, this is mostly just an intriguing story with well-developed characters.  It has some plot twists, but that’s not really what makes the book (in the way that the plot twists make Waters’s Fingersmith).  It also raises interesting questions about class and social convention.

Leaving the Atocha Station by Ben Lerner

See review below.