The Man Who Lived Underground: A Novel

The door of the police car swung open quickly and the man behind the steering wheel stepped out; immediately, as though following in a prearranged signal, the other two policemen stepped out and the three of them advanced and confronted him. They patted his clothing from his head to his feet.
What s your name? asked the policeman who had been called Lawson.
Fred Daniels, sir.
Ever been in trouble before, boy? Lawson said.
No, sir.
Where you think you re going now?
I m going home.
Where you live?
On East Canal, sir.
Who you live with?
My wife.  
Lawson turned to the policeman who stood at his right. We d better drag im in, Johnson.
But, Mister! he protested in a high whine. I ain t done nothing . . .
All right, now, Lawson said. Don t get excited.
My wife s having a baby . . .
They all say that. Come on, said the red-headed man who had been called Johnson.
A spasm of outrage surged in him and he snatched backward, hurling himself away from them. Their fingers tightened about his wrists, biting into his flesh; they pushed him toward the car.
Want to get tough, hunh?
No, sir, he said quickly.
Then get in the car, Goddammit!
He stepped into the car and they shoved him into the seat; two of the policemen sat at either side of him and hooked their arms in his. Lawson got behind the steering wheel. But, strangely, the car did not start. He waited, alert but ready to obey.
Well, boy, Lawson began in a slow, almost friendly tone, looks like you re in for it, hunh?
Lawson s enigmatical voice made hope rise in him.
Mister, I ain t done nothing, he said. You can ask Mrs. Wooten back there. She just paid me off and I was on my way home . . . His words sounded futile and he tried another approach. Look, Mister, I m a member of the White Rock Baptist Church. If you don t believe me, call up Reverend Davis . . .
Got it all figured out, ain t you, boy?
No, sir, he said, shaking his head emphatically. I m telling

Richard Wright (1908-1960) is one of the most influential African American writers of the last century. His major works include the story collection Uncle Tom's Children, the novel Native Son, and the autobiography Black Boy/American Hunger.
 
Malcolm Wright, Richard Wright's grandson, is a filmmaker and conservationist.

"Not just Wright's masterwork, but also a milestone in African American literature . . . The Man Who Lived Underground is one of those indispensable works that reminds all its readers that, whether we are in the flow of life or somehow separated from it, above- or belowground, we are all human." Gene Seymour, CNN.com

"It's impossible to read Wright s novel without thinking of this 21st-century moment. . . . Wright deserves sensitive reconsideration, especially now that so many of us have been proved naive in our belief that an honest rendering of Black people might lead to recognition of our existence in the universality of humanity." Imani Perry, The Atlantic

"Moves continuously forward with its masterful blend of action and reflection, a kind of philosophy on the run. . . . Whether or not The Man Who Lived Underground is Wright s single finest work, it must be counted among his most significant."
Clifford Thompson, The Wall Street Journal

Enthralling. . . . You could say that the book s release now is timely, given that it contains an account of police torture. . . .  But that feels false because Wright s story would have been just as relevant if it had been released 10 years ago or 30, 50, or 80 when he composed it. . . . Maybe, then, it s more accurate to think of The Man Who Lived Underground as timeless rather than timely. The New Republic

"Resonates deeply as a story about race and the struggle to envision a different, better world. A welcome literary resurrection that deserves a place alongside Wright s best-known work." 
Kirkus (starred review)

"Finally, this devastating inquiry into oppression and delusion, this timeless tour de force, emerges in full, the work Wright was most passionate about, as he explains in the profoundly illuminating essay, 'Memories of My Grandmother,' also published here for the first time. This blazing literary