This is sort of a review, but it’s mostly a love letter to the rare book about a Black man that is not about his problems, his environment, slavery or society or rage. In fact, it is not about his Blackness in any direct way. It is actually about his humanity, reflected through/by the humanity of everyone with whom he interacts.
In this, it actually reminds me a lot of Beef, which, if you haven’t seen it, is completely worth all 10 episodes. Beef is about two people whose road rage, taken out on each other, is actually an indication of deeper problems that manifest in their lives. The main characters are Asian, and the mainstream reflected in their lives is a universe in which white people are the minorities. This turns out to be something of a subtext, but it is also a soothing, narrative relief.
Back to this lovely, comfy novel, The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry, which at this point is almost 10 years old! Where was I?
A.J. Fikry is a lot of things, but he is mostly annoyed that by being a Bookselling entrepreneur on a small island named Alice, it means that he has to deal with people. The only small, not very big deal there is that he sort of can’t stand humans. Another way of saying this is that there is not a character I have read in about a decade that I feel this close to, like I could marry him because he’s my people aside from his race.
And, look, I love Blackness so much that I have a Substack dedicated to its representation and exploration in books. So this is not to whine, but rather, to celebrate how pedestrian the mention of A.J. Fikry’s race was in this book. Because it allowed me the generosity of reading a story without thinking about racism or sexism or intersectionality, or how Black men and women have weird dynamics sometimes, or maybe that was only the 70s.
Maybe halfway through the book, a baby named Maya is disowned and dropped off in his store. Now, this guy A.J. is a certified bachelor-widow. He’s even mean to the cute and sweet Knightley Press sales rep, Amelia. He’s distant with his miserable sister Ismay. The only person he seems remotely friendly with is the Alice Island police chief Lambiase.
A.J. ends up taking care of Maya on what he thinks is a temporary basis but then she keeps saying she loves him. And his hard cruddy heart softens from ice to a little puddle because how can you deny a baby love when she is already marking shit up with crayons and loving you despite all the ways you might be unlovable?
They (meaning the earnest and entertaining residents of Alice Island) have a party to celebrate A.J.’s official adoption of Maya. Someone in this small town (because OF Course) says that he and Maya are not the same kind of Black. Also super relatable but cringey. And it also meant that I could write about this cute little comfy book here in this space that I cultivate just for books related to Blackness and complicating it.
So A.J. Is not great with the ladies which might be hard to believe, despite all that I’ve told you. So it seems to take a few Acts of God for him to finally connect with Amelia, and for things to progress in a satisfying narrative fashion.
There’s a little bit of tension, to be honest, because as delightful as it is when he realizes who she is, it also feels doomed considering she’s engaged to a soldier who, unfortunately also seems as bright as a burned out lightbulb.
So that’s all I’m going to say to you about The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry. I’m probably going to add a couple more books by Gabrielle to my TBR list, because this one was a real pleasure to read and that hasn’t happened in some time. I hope you agree with me.