Yes, Walter Mosely’s Fearless Jones is classic noir, although the pigmentation of the protagonist, Paris Minton, and the eponymous Fearless make that designation almost a pun. Mosely, of course, is a powerful writer of color and yet, portrays 1950s racism, even out of the South, in a stark black-and-white (more like white vs. black) set of images. The freedom of movement that moderns “generally” experience and the more common nature of bi-racial couples visible in today’s world may mask the traumatic reality of black drivers in white neighborhoods or a black man even giving a ride to a white woman. As someone who, from a white privilege perspective, remembers those “Colored Only” drinking fountains marveled over when visiting the 1960s South, I found it shocking that I didn’t realize just how bad it was in the ‘50s and, of course, must be in certain police departments of the present era.
So, even if Fearless Jones had not been the amazing spiral downward of lose-lose situation after another that we associate with noir, it would have been an eye-opening…er…awakening piece of literature. There were times I had to stop and catch my breath from shock when I realized just how much black citizens had to walk a tightrope of conventional and submissive behavior just to survive. It should give any person who is not of color a bit of pause in considering what a pure “law and order” message signals and the trauma it may trigger.
Now, Paris Minton is the owner of a used bookstore which he has scrambled to build from scratch when he is immediately harassed by a police officer asking where he had acquired the books. When our protagonist answers that he got them from libraries, the officer immediately jumps to the conclusion that he has stolen the books (despite the “Discarded” stamps all over the volumes). Paris immediately has to pull out the documentation which he, as a black man, needed to prove his innocence. So, less than two pages into the book, I had to realize how different the fictional character’s experience with the law was from my own.
The narrator explains this more fully on page 210: “I’m an honest man as far as it goes, meaning I’d sooner make my own money as take someone else’s. I’m almost always on the right side of the law, but lawmen scare me anyway, they terrify me. I have always believed that more black folks have been killed by those claiming to be enforcing the law than by those who were breaking it.”
In typical noir fashion, the avalanche of misfortune started with the appearance of a femme fatale and features a wild chase after a vast fortune.
The chain of events precipitated by the appearance of the beautiful and dangerous woman in the bookstore leads Paris to bail his old friend, Fearless Jones, out of jail to help him out of trouble. The irony is that, according to the narration, in previous encounters Paris had gotten Fearless out of trouble. When his bail bondsman and friend Milo asks Paris what he had done to get into trouble, Paris reflects: “I had asked it a hundred times of Fearless Jones. I couldn’t believe the trouble he’d get into and all he would say is, I didn’t do nuthin’, Paris. I was just mindin’ my own business. But what had I done?” (p. 39)
Matters are complicated by the involvement of the classic noir crooked cop and the considerable inconvenience of corpses piling up all around the two longtime friends. Fortunately, there are exceptions to the rules of those Caucasians who felt it necessary to demean all those of darker pigment using the derogatory “N” word and those who automatically assumed black skin required being up to illegal activities. Yet, in the worlds of Paris Minton and Fearless Jones, those decent (and rational) folks were few and far between.
Fearless Jones does make use of a few stereotypical characters: illiterate blacks, sham ministers, crooked cops, dangerous women, and intolerant neighbors. Yet, in the midst of such ordinary fill-in-the-blank characterizations are exciting and honest descriptions. “Three blocks away I pulled to the curb. There I took in great gulps of air, trying to bring my spirit back into alignment with my body—because that’s how it felt, as if my soul were somehow trying to flee the flesh, as if I had been so close to death so often in the last few days that the ghost was ready to bolt. That’s how it goes with me. I face danger and survive it, acting just fine, but as soon as it is over and I’m alone, I break down.” (p. 254)
For me, though, the best news was that, unlike the last few noir novels I’ve read, Paris Minton was a character for whom I could have real empathy. Maybe it’s because of his love for reading and for books, but my identification with a man from a very, very different cultural environment made me truly care what happened. I genuinely wanted him to succeed. You’ll have to see for yourself if he did.