I saw the film "American Fiction" recently, loved it, and prefer it to this book that it is based on. The basic premise is the same for both: an academic Black man nicknamed Monk who is a writer has written a number of books critically well received, but that have earned him neither popularity or much money. So he writes a book in a matter of days in Black street dialect under the pen name of Stag R. Leigh, and of course it becomes an instant best seller. His book's title is, yes, Fuck, and is nominated for a literary award. Monk had already been chosen as a judge for the award and now is faced with reviewing the book he had written as a joke.

As he struggles with the book issue he is also processing the death of his sister, his mother's advancing Alzheimers, and his brother's disconnection from the family. He is briefly involved with someone romantically, responsible for the care of his mom, and somehow also manages to spend time fly fishing and doing fine carpentry work. And that's my complaint about the book. There is so much going on, not to mention the inclusion of the entire text of Fuck, that much of the time the book feels untethered.

The novel explores how White people don't really get Blacks, and absolutely don't know what to do with upper middle class Blacks. Some of the Blacks in the book can't deal with upper middle class Blacks either. This is biting and hilarious satire, and even if it is not as tightly constructed as some of Everett's other novels, I enjoyed it. I think the movie is better at getting to essentials but both are worth attention.