Lee Cotton is born to a black mother in a little Delta town in the 1950s, but has white skin. He grows up amid violent confrontation between white supremacists and the civil rights movement. Aged 16, he is beaten to death by the Ku Klux Klan. At this stage in the book, 50 pages in, it is natural for the reader to assume that the narrative will centre on issues of racism. It is especially natural, considering that the author is a white British man. Why else would he choose so alien a backdrop, if he were not intent on exploring the issues peculiar to that time and place?
It is therefore easy to be confused by this book when the protagonist subsequently goes to heaven, discovers the meaning of life, forgets it, returns to earth, joins the army, becomes a woman and watches his white skin turn black.
If this were a serious study of racist issues, it would be a disgrace. Thankfully, it is not. It took me a while to realise, but The Ballad of Lee Cotton is really just a bit of fun. Written in Deep Southern vernacular, it rattles along, travelling across the USA to Nevada, San Francisco and New Orleans, and describing outrageously unlikely scenarios.
The eponymous character is flighty, simple and funny, just like the book. He has supernatural powers, most notably his ability to hear the thoughts of others. His grandmother is a voodoo priestess, who speaks to him constantly even after her death. Much of the plot cannot be explained by orthodox science.
This reliance on magic solves the author’s various problems of entitlement. As a British white male, he is brave to write in the voice of an American black female, which is what Lee Cotton eventually becomes.
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in