The Last Integrationist

Megan Harlan

In The Last Integrationist, his first novel, Jake Lamar -- a Harvard-educated African-American journalist now living in Paris -- deftly explores racism in America, particularly as experienced by middle-class, educated blacks. As in his candid and controversial 1991 memoir, Bourgeois Blues, the characters in The Last Integrationist (artists, politicians, academics) transcend many stereotypical images of African-Americans, yet still suffer the handicaps imposed by a racist society. The real strength of the book -- besides its complex, swift-moving plot that does indeed, as the book-jacket promises, resemble Bonfire of the Vanities -- are Lamar's characterizations. He employs both empathy and a tough, critical eye in observing his large cast of characters, and he reflects myriad viewpoints that span the racial spectrum.

Set mainly in New York City in the near future, the story focuses on the struggles of two intriguing, independent characters. Melvin Hutchinson, the first black United States Attorney General, believes that harsh punishment is the best way to redeem the black community, and so is a proponent not only of the death penalty but of the gallows. He's also a probable candidate for the recently vacated vice-presidency, but there's more to the otherwise all-white current administration than meets the eye. Intercut with his narrative is the story of his estranged niece, Emma Person, a talented young photographer whose battle to maintain her artistic integrity in the face of a disparaging black community -- as well as her relationships with, in turn, a smarmy white talk-show producer and a brilliant, inflammatory black ethnocentrist -- provide a perfect backdrop for Lamar to explore issues of "passing," of passive racism, and the dangers of ethnocentrism. Says Emma, "Why should I be either proud or ashamed of being black? It's not an accomplishment, or an embarrassment. It's nothing I've ever done."

Lamar's straightforward prose keeps the novel moving briskly towards its tragic finale. His witty commentary ("There was something bracing about living one's life in a permanent snit") sometimes gives way to lampoonish strokes in minor characters. But thanks to its tremendous scope, and its refusal to offer easy answers on complicated issues, The Last Integrationist is a rare, intelligent, provocative novel on race in America. -- Salon

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly

Realism slowly gives way to dark satire in this richly imagined but disjointed first novel about race, politics and criminal justice. Attorney General Melvin Hutchinson, who's black, is President Troy McCracken's first choice to fill the vacant vice presidency after the current veep suffers a stroke. Hutchinson is a living symbol of law and order in this near-future America, where executions are televised live and the Justice Department has established boot camps called DRCs (Drug Reeducation Centers) to stop inner-city crime. In a brilliantly effective device, using Hutchinson and his niece Emma as the main characters, Lamar examines relationships between the races through interracial romance-primarily Emma's with her Jewish boyfriend, Seth Winkler, but also through an interracial affair that left Hutchinson with a devastating secret. Less effective are the cliff-hanging surprises with which he ends the novel's sections before veering off on other plot lines only to build upon the revelations obliquely. Regrettably, the final section, which ties everything together into a conspiracy plot and ends with a brutal but cartoonish finale, buries all of Lamar's excellent character work beneath a heavy message-a thud of a wrap-up for a novel that features a lot of fine writing about race in America. Lamar's first book was the memoir Bourgeois Blues. (Mar.)

Mary Carroll

Dozens of nonfiction works "tell" readers how dangerous and self-destructive American attitudes toward race are. This first novel by former Time writer Lamar--whose Bourgeois Blues (1991) described his middle-class African American childhood--" shows" us where these attitudes "could" take us in the not-so-distant future. Melvin "Hang 'Em High" Hutchinson, the African American attorney general in the American Party administration, popular for its aggressive war on criminal "parasites," may be named to succeed the nation's comatose vice president. This polarized nation, which fights crime with star-studded televised executions, drug-reeducation boot camps, and Federal Youth Corps thugs patrolling city streets, seems ready at last to put a black American "a heartbeat away" from the presidency. But American Party leaders have an undisclosed agenda; even the conservative Hutchinson can't ignore what he learns. Lamar has created a lively, scary, believable world here, keeping his high-powered Washington skulduggery anchored to reality by exploring the less newsworthy but equally painful experiences of Hutchinson's aspiring photographer niece. This involving read provides nourishing food for thought.

Kirkus Reviews

First-time novelist Lamar (the memoir Bourgeois Blues, 1991) expertly lays down a dystopian view of America's future, particularly in matters of race.

Melvin Hutchinson rides high at the center of the story's swirl of social critique, intrigue, and Beltway farce. Known to his right-wing supporters as "Hang 'Em High Hutch," the African- American US Attorney General is on the verge of being named vice president. While the country debates whether the comatose sitting VP, Vin Ewell, should have his plug pulled, Hutch roams the corridors of power, easing his anxieties with shots of Jack Daniels, waiting for the call from President Troy McCracken. The Attorney General's reputation rests on his staunch pro-death-penalty judicial philosophy, and on his boot-camp approach to rehabilitating delinquent youth. Playing right into this hyper-Republican fantasy is Mavis Temple, host of TV's "Mavis!" show, a black media goddess who wants to televise public executions, broadcast live from—where else?—Texas, under the aegis of a new program called "Elimination." Lamar weaves several subplots, all of which hinge on issues of race and paranoia, into the story of Hutch's rise toward power. The beefiest of these involves Emma Person, Hutch's photographer niece, who begins the book living with Mavis Temple's producer and ends up involved with a firebrand black nationalist. Some readers may find it difficult to swallow a flip in Hutch's character late in the story, as well as the author's take on the Bell Curve eugenics debate, but neither really drags down this relentless tale. Like rats caught in a maze that narrows to a single point, Lamar's characters collide in a shocking end as justice struggles to overcome a vast, lethal conspiracy.

A compelling, controversial political thriller, part A Clockwork Orange, part The Manchurian Candidate.