APEX HIDES THE HURT
Author - Colson Whitehead
Publisher - Fleet, Rs 599
A ‘nomenclature consultant’ is hired to give a town a new name. The idea is to make sure that the new name is in sync with its chequered history and encapsulates the struggle of its original free black settlers. Going by just its writing style, this book is a must-read, says GAUTAM MUKHERJEE
A prestigious magazine, The New York Review of Books, calls this book “a brilliant, witty and subtle novel”. Written in 2006 and published in hardback first in 2007, Apex Hides the Hurt justifies that description. It is the story of a young man who creates brand names for products and even places that require a makeover. The protagonist has a rather fancy designation that almost sounds improbable — he is a ‘nomenclature consultant’.
The name of anything or anyone, the reader will realise, goes a tremendous length of the way to the future success or failure of that which it adorns. It is not an easy thing to come up with. It is a gift if one can do so with some flair. It requires insight. It should be catchy. On top of that, it should also have qualities like recall value, aspiration management, and other intangible things. Colson Whitehead, the author, who lives in New York City, has previously written seven books. The last of these is called The Underground Railroad, which won the Pulitzer Prize and the American National Book Award in 2016.
The striking and highly visual turn of phrase that Whitehead employs with an apparent ease is a source of constant delight in this slim volume. For example, he describes an “establishment” as “...that dressed itself in rustic sincerity,” but, “where expense crouched behind the subterfuge of calligraphic price tags”. And again, elsewhere, he says, “The tallest building on the square, the looming accusation.” There isn’t a page in this 212-page paperback that does not reward the reader with this kind of style and mastery of the use of language.
You don’t read a book like this for plot. In this one, there is a slim plot. There is an unsentimental poignancy: “The things you name go on without you,” says the protagonist, who does not care to reveal his own name but goes on at length about the necrosis he developed in a toe that had to be amputated. It had begun with a neglected stubbed toe. The protagonist limps and his toe hurts all the time. This limp and missing toe become a metaphor for his personal struggle as a solitary, if brilliant misfit who has difficulty walking.
The social commentary in the novel is sometimes banal, subtly fascinating and humorous. It constantly paints a picture. There you see the quirks of small town Middle America, its somewhat stifling rigidities, its inelastic community, and the individuals bracketed by that context.
This is central to the novel because that’s where Whitehead sets it, in the town of Winthrop. A town that is looking for renewal, a new image, only, maybe. Not everyone in the community is on board for a new name.
There is a frowning black barman who makes a powerful if indeterminate Winthrop Cocktail at the oldest building in the town, its hotel. The protagonist calls him Muttonchops. He says: “I’ve worked here ever since I was a boy, used to have a shoeshine over in the men’s and that’s where I got my start — like my father and his father. And then, they moved out here, behind the bar. They were bartenders behind this very bar and now I’m here too. My family goes back to the first settlers. This was a coloured town once. Founded by free black men and women, did you know thatij”
The title of the book has the word ‘apex’. In the book, the protagonist describes it. He says, “The summit, human achievement, the best of civilisation, and of course, something you could tumble off of, fall fast.” But “Apex was a name you could rely on”. And like Band-Aid, it hides the hurt — that is the hurt of its history, or is it historiesij And that is how he covers his hurt toe, too.
He had a stipulation before he took on the job of finding a new name for Winthrop. It skirted around New Prospera, Freedom, and even Struggle, especially Struggle, that seemed to encapsulate the work and lives of its original free black settlers. Then, much later, came the White Winthrops, with its various sections of the family enterprises and their opinionated executives and advisors. The protagonist’s original stipulation, before he goes down on the bus from New York City, said that the town had to keep the name he came up with unilaterally, after all his research and investigations were done with — for a year; even if some in the decision-making positions did not like it.
The nameless protagonist doesn’t expect to get the job after this demand, but the clients agree to it quite readily. The protagonist describes the name America, after Amerigo Vespucci, to give the reader an insight into how he thinks and comes to a decision. The book says, “He couldn’t argue with America. It was one of those balloon names. It kept stretching as it filled up, getting bigger and bigger and thinner and thinner. What kind of gas it was, stretching the thing to its limits, who could sayij Whatever we dreamed. And of course one day it would pop. But for now, it served its purpose. For now, it was holding together.”
Eventually, he leaves an envelope at the front desk addressed to the City Council. Whitehead does not make it clear what it contains. Did he call the town Apex or did he call it Struggle — “the anti-apex”, which he allowed “got to the point with more finesse and wit”.
“They will say,” said the protagonist to himself, “I was born in Struggle. I live in Struggle and come from Struggle. I work in Struggle. We crossed the border into Struggle. Before I came to Struggle. We found ourselves in Struggle. I will never leave Struggle. I will die in Struggle.” He leaves after depositing the envelope, heading for the bus stand with his luggage and showing his middle finger to the Muttonchops as he passes.
Apex — probably not.
Struggle. Memorable, isn’t it?