Great Black Hope: Elegant Writing, but Weak Narrative

 

 

 

Great Black Hope (2025)

By Rob Franklin

Simon and Schuster, 320 pages

★★★

 

 

Have recently read several novels dealing with African-American high achievers who have done stupid things. Most of them wrestle with the age-old question of what matters most, race or social class? Rob Franklin is one of them and in Great Black Hope suggests that race obliterates class.

 

I will admit up front that the self-inflicted travails of elites bores me. (My take is that in individual cases race matters most, but collectively social class is more important.) David Smith–usually called just “Smith”– comes from a family of high flyers and is, himself, a graduate of Stanford. Many people say that Stanford is harder to get into than Harvard. At Stanford, Smith had numerous white friends, was active socially, partied, and was openly gay.

 

Like many college grads, Smith is adrift for a time after graduation. He goes back to his hometown of Atlanta, where his family is filled with high achievers. They resemble what W.E.B. DuBois called the talented 10th; that is, they are lawyers, designers, and business people. This is remarkable as the Smith family is just several generations removed from being sharecroppers. Smith would love to be a literary heavyweight, but is working as a tech writer. He feels like a fish out of water in Atlanta, though his gayness is not an issue.

 

Thus far the novel has the stamp of upward mobility analogous to those of white social climbers  with all of the intendant First World problems. Smith heads off to New York City, continues his tech writing, and shares a nice apartment with Elle England, whose mother is a famous soul singer. Smith hits New York’s gay club scene and has mostly white boyfriends. At a party in the Hamptons, Smith is arrested for possession of cocaine. Was he targeted for being the “black guy? Probably, but all he can think of is how to avoid embarrassing his family or going to prison. His lawyer sister recommends a good New York lawyer who advises Smith to attend AA before appearing before a judge, even though Smith insists that he's not addicted. Another inner reason is that he thinks that he's better than the other saps who end up in such programs. As if he doesn't have enough problems, Elle is murdered. Smith is soon hounded by an ambitious reporter who wants to pump him for information on the “real” Elle England. Moreover, Elle was seen leaving a club with a black man. Is Smith a suspect?

 

Franklin resolves some of Smith’s dilemmas, but overall he fudges what we are supposed to observe. I came away feeling that Elle’s murder was superfluous to the plot. Franklin makes us see that Smith suffers from confused identities. It is true enough that human beings wear many hats at once but they usually have a primary identity. It appears that Franklin wants us to see that doesn't insulate rich black people the way it does rich whites. That's not exactly breaking news, but why does Franklin make Smith seem like a stalker in seeking white sexual partners?

 

In my view Franklin wants to enhance Smith's obliviousness. To that end, Smith has a flat affect and his actions suggest that he's a bonehead. Who would risk a stiff jail sentence and continue to party just to run with the pack? I found my attention wandering because David Smith began to seem like any other story about a person with great advantages who throws them away. Call me a classist if you must, but I don't really care about the thoughtless rich, the whirl of fancy overpriced restaurants, and lives of surfaces lacking depth. I’m tired of novels about privileged and pretentious New Yorkers.

 

This is Rob Franklin's debut novel. It is by turn funny and tragic. Alas, Franklin's narrative gets away from him to the degree that Smith is relegated to a piece of background scenery rather than the center of the story. One could only hope his next book will be more down to earth and narratively tighter. It's a shame to waste such elegant prose on a cliched story.

 

# Thanks to NetGalley and Simon and Schuster for an opportunity to review this book.

 

Rob Weir