Lover Man

By Alston Anderson and Kinohi Nishikawa

Stories of loners, outsiders, tricksters, addicts, jazzmen, and drifters in the Jim Crow South—a classic of 1950s Black fiction.

Raw, fearless, ironic, the stories in Lover Man (1958) promised the birth of a new sensibility in American fiction. Inspired by the bebop he loved, and the philosophy he studied at the Sorbonne, Alston Anderson looked back at the North Carolina of his youth to capture the hidden lives of Black boys and men in the early 1940s. Fascinated by loners and outsiders—tricksters, addicts, jazzmen, drifters, “queers”—and by the spiritual cost exacted by the myths of white supremacy, Anderson assembled an original kind of story collection, whose themes troubled and bewildered many of his early readers. Although later championed by Langston Hughes and Henry Louis Gates. Jr., among others, this—his only collection—has remained out of print since the ’50s.

In his afterword to this new edition, the literary historian Kinohi Nishikawa investigates Anderson’s brief but brilliant career, the controversy his work provoked, and the light it sheds on his era.

• Language: English
• Publisher: McNally Editions
• Release date: Feb 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9781946022554

Alston Anderson

Alston Anderson (1924–2008) was born in Panama to Jamaican parents who brought him to North Carolina as a child. After serving in the Army during World War II, Anderson attended North Carolina College and Columbia University on the G.I. Bill, as well as the Sorbonne, where he studied German philosophy. Moving in expatriate circles, he overlapped with James Baldwin at Yaddo, stayed with Robert Graves in Majorca, and co-interviewed Nelson Algren with Terry Southern for the Paris Review. After Lover Man, he published one novel, All God’s Children, a critical and commercial failure. Following a series of personal and professional ruptures, Anderson vanished from the public record in the early 1970s until the time of his death in New York’s Bellevue Hospital.

Book preview

THE CHECKER BOARD

‘James? James, you out there? Lord, I wonder where that nigger is now. James?’

‘I’m right here,’ my father said.

‘You come on in this house before I hit you up side the head. You get the corn like I asked you to?’

‘Yeah, I got it.’

‘And the bread? I bet you anything in the world you done forgot the bread. You get the bread, James?’

‘Yeah, I got the bread.’

My father picked up the corn and the bread and went inside the house. We’d been playing checkers, with him sitting on a bench on the front porch, the checker board on a chair, and me squatting on the floor on the other side. I could hear him dump the corn on the table in the kitchen; and then the paper rattled as my mother took the bread out of it. I looked at the checker board and thought: If I move that piece right there he’ll have to jump it then I can move that one up and get me a king. I could hear my father coming back out to the porch. When he got to the doorway my mother said, ‘James?’

My father stopped. ‘Yes, Mary-Jane.’

‘You cut the wood like I asked you?’

‘I cut some last night, Mary-Jane.’

‘That ain’t nearbout enough and you know it. You go on out there and cut me some wood.’

My father came out on the porch and stood looking down at the checker board. The muscles in his jaw always moved when he was thinking about something, and they were moving now. He leaned over the board and put his hands on his knees, but he didn’t sit down. He looked at the pieces, studying them; then he moved. He jumped three of my men at once, bing-bing-bing. ‘Hot damn,’ I said, and scratched my head.

‘Didn’t see that, did you?’

‘No, sir, I sure didn’t.’

I moved, and he countered it. My mother came out on the porch with both hands at her hips.

‘You mean to tell me you can stand up there and play checkers with that child when I done asked you to do something? You’s the laziest man I seen yet, I swear before God in heaven.’ She went into the front room. ‘Ask the man to do something and he act just like I ain’t said boo. After I done worked and slaved in this house all day it look like the least you could do is have some kind of consideration for the things I got to put up with.’ She was in the kitchen now, talking louder. ‘That other no-good son of yours is up there in that pool hall gambling and that no-count bitch of a daughter of yours is up there up North making a whore of herself.’ She started to cry. ‘Lord have mercy, I don’t know what I done to deserve this. If I had it to do all over again I’d marry a white man. You don’t believe it? A nigger ain’t worth nothing a-tall on God’s earth, just as sure as I’m His witness.’

‘Your move,’ my father said. He sat down on the bench. The muscles in his jaw were still moving, but he didn’t have nary an expression on his face. I moved a piece from the back row. ‘Watch this one,’ he said, and pointed to a piece I’d left exposed. I thanked him and put back the one I’d moved. I covered the piece my father had pointed to and as I did my mother came out on the porch again.

‘James, you going do like I asked you?’

‘Mary-Jane, I’m going do it just as soon as I’m through here. Now let me be.’

‘You shouting at me again, nigger? I done told you a million times never to shout at me. I’m a lady, you hear me? Soon’s you get that through that thick head of yours the better it’ll be for all of us. Now you git on out there in that yard and cut the wood like I asked you to.’

My father looked up at her. I don’t mean to say ‘up at her’; just ‘up’. Because even sitting down like he was my father was nearbout as tall as she is standing up. I could hear him laughing to himself. He shook his head from side to side and got up, real slow-like. He went down in the yard and then around to the back of the house. My mother went inside, and I could hear her bustling around in the kitchen. She was slamming things around and muttering to herself: ‘No-count, no-good… work and slave all day.…’ Then I could hear my father chopping wood. He always hummed the same tune when he was chopping wood, and swung the axe in time to it: Hmmm-hmmm-hmmm-hmmm-CHACK! Hmmm-hmmm-hmmm-hmmm-CHACK!

When he was through he came around the side of the house with an armful of wood. I ran down from the porch and took some from him, and we went inside the house together. My mother was blowing at the fire in the stove, and the kitchen was full of smoke. We dumped the wood on the floor beside the stove and went out on the porch and finished the checker game. He won.

---

By the time my brother got home that evening we were sitting down at the dinner table. My mother was dishing out the food. There was a lot of steam coming up from the platter, and every once in a while she’d frown and move her head away. I had my eye on a nice big piece of fatback that was sitting right on top of the greens. When my mother helped my plate she moved the spoon all around it, but she didn’t give it to me. Thomas, my brother, sat down without saying good evening. As soon as his plate was in front of him he started eating.

‘Ain’t you going say grace?’ my mother said. ‘You act just like you was bring up in a pig-pen.’ My brother stopped eating and looked at her. He put his knife and fork down and said, ‘Gracious Father we thank thee—’

‘You stop!’ my mother said. ‘Can’t you see I ain’t finished serving yet? James, when you going teach these children some manners?’

‘What you been up to?’ my father said to Thomas.

‘I been over at Miss Florence’s.’

‘You’re a lie, my mother said. ‘You been up there at that pool hall all day, that’s where you been.’

‘What you been doing?’ my father said.

‘Making a bookshelf,’ my brother said.

‘Say the grace, James,’ my mother said.

‘She pay you for it?’ my father said.

‘James, I said say the grace,’ my mother said.

‘She give me five dollars,’ my brother said.

‘Only five?’ my father said.

‘James?’ my mother said. ‘You hear what I said?’

‘Gracious Father who art in Heaven we thank Thee for this food which we are about to receive for Christ’s sake amen,’ my father said. ‘Only five?’

‘You mean to tell me you’s the deacon of the church and you say grace like that?’ my mother said. ‘Take your foot off that chair, Aaron.’

‘It wasn’t worth no more than that,’ my brother said.

‘How big was it?’ my father said.

‘Six by five,’ Thomas said.

‘Aaron, take your foot off that chair, I said,’ my mother said. I took my foot off the chair. ‘James, when you going get that child some shoes?’

‘That wasn’t too bad,’ my father said.

‘Mutton Head ain’t got no shoes neither,’ I said.

‘He don’t need none right now,’ my father said.

‘You hush,’ my mother said to me. ‘Don’t need none? You mean to tell me you going let that child start school in September without shoes?’

‘He’ll have some by then,’ my father said.

‘Mutton Head ain’t got—’

‘Hush!’ my mother said.

If I made a king I’d have whupped him.

‘Yeah,’ my mother said. ‘I know. He’ll have them shoes just like I had my anniversary present this year.’

‘Mary-Jane, you going bring that up again?’

‘I’m going bring it up long as I please. I’m going bring it up ’til you learns that you’s got some ’sponsibilities in this world besides the Bible and corn liquor.’

‘Jesus, good sweet Christ,’ my father said.

‘Pass the salt,’ my brother said.

Maybe next time I can make three kings.

‘You better get that child some shoes right soon, that’s all I got to say,’ my mother said.

‘Pass the salt,’ my brother said.

‘Don’t you be yelling at me, boy,’ my mother said.

‘Can’t you leave nobody in peace?’ my father said.

‘Pass the salt!’ my brother said, real loud. I reached way over and got the cup the salt was in and handed it to him.

‘James, you going sit there and let that boy yell at me like that? What’s the matter? You scared of him now that he’s big as you? Is that it? Git up and wash your hands, Thomas, ’fore you salt God’s food with your nasty fingers. Is that it? You scared of your own son?’

My father sighed and didn’t say a word. My brother kept on salting the food with his fingers.

‘Thomas, you hear what I said? You git on up and wash your hands ’fore I slap you up side the head.’

‘Yeah, woman,’ Thomas said, ‘and that’ll be the last time you slap anybody, I swear.’

‘Hush, Tom,’ my father said, real soft-like.

‘What’s the matter? You scared of your own son?’ my mother said.

‘Mutton Head’s way bigger than me,’ I said, ‘but I ain’t scared of him.’

‘Hush!’ my father said, but he looked like he was about to laugh.

‘You hear the ball scores today?’ my brother said.

‘The Yankees won,’ I said.

‘That all you two got to talk about?’ my mother said.

‘I ain’t studying the Yankees,’ Thomas said. ‘What’d the Dodgers do?’

‘They lost,’ I said. ‘The Cards beat ’em six-two.’ My brother frowned and I said, ‘Don’t nobody root for bums but bums, noway.’ He hit at me and I ducked and laughed.

‘Don’t you be hitting at that child,’ my mother said.

‘Jesus Christ, Mary-Jane, can’t you leave nobody in peace? They won’t doing nothing but playing,’ my father said.

‘James, I done told you one time today not to yell at me,’ my mother said. ‘That’s all you ever done since the day you married me twenty-four years ago last June 3rd.’

‘June 4th,’ my father said.

‘All you ever do is yell, yell, yell,’ my mother said. She got to crying. ‘And all I ever do in this Godforsaken house all day is work, work, work. I ain’t only got the house to clean and food to fix and y’all’s clothes to wash, but other people’s clothes to wash, too. God knows what I ever done to deserve this. And you gallavanting around with these young gals. Don’t think I don’t know it, James Jessup!’ She got to dabbing at her eyes with her apron, but she was still crying. ‘A man ain’t good for nothing in this whole world but to get a woman children and trouble.’

My father got up from the table and went inside the bedroom. My brother got up and went out on the porch. I could hear him pulling the bench out so’s he could set his feet up on it like he always did. My mother started clearing the table. Underneath the light her face looked like it was dark blue, and her eyes were red.

‘Don’t cry, Mamma,’ I said. She didn’t say anything. I got up and helped her with the dishes, then I went inside and went to bed.

If I got that king I could’ve whupped him.

---

The next morning when I got up my brother was already gone. I didn’t know what it was that woke me at first; then I heard. It was my mother calling out ‘James? Lord have mercy. James? James? Jesus God in heaven. James? James?…’

THE DOZENS

One day me and Mutton Head was walking through the woods on the way to a creek. The sun was shining through the pine trees and sometimes I would be in the shade and then in the sun again, quick-like. Other times I would look at Mutton Head’s back and it would be just like he was walking past one of them Venetian blinds when it’s dark inside and the street light comes shining through. Mutton Head was two years older than me, but he was short and thick and somebody said one time that he had a head like a mutton chop. So we called him Mutton Head, but his real name was James Washington.

When we got to the creek it was dark. It wasn’t real dark. What I mean is the sun had got covered up by a cloud, and it looked like it might rain some later on. But since it was the onliest cloud in the sky neither one of us was thinking of going back home or nothing. It just seem like the cloud was there, like a homen. It made me feel funny-like. When we set down on the bank we could see a piece o’ straw floating slow-like on top of the muddy water. Now that I come to think of it seem like that was a homen, too.

‘That there straw sure look like a boat, don’t it?’ Mutton Head said. When I said yeah he said, ‘A man tell me one time peoples used to be buried in them things.’

‘In a boat?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Nobody can’t be buried in no boat,’ I said.

‘I didn’t mean they was buried, fool. I just mean when somebody died they’d put the body in a boat and let the boat float down the river. Come on, gimme a worm.’

I took a worm from the tin can I was carrying and give it to him. The straw had done floated further downstream a ways, and I watched it drift slow-like against the bank on the other side. It stopped. When Mutton Head put the worm on the hook I could see it get right red at the tip end, but it didn’t squirm. Mutton Head got up so’s he could get more distant and threw the line out fur as he could. Then he set down again.

‘Set the can ’tween us so’s I can get to it,’ he said. I set the can between us and when I did I could feel the edge of it sharp against my thumb. For a long time didn’t neither one of us catch a thing.

‘Boy, boy, I sure would like to get some o’ that,’ Mutton Head said. He was always talking about getting some. I looked across to the other side to see who it was he was talking about this time, but there won’t nobody over there. In fact, we hadn’t seen