Supposedly Free Services and free media that we consume. Tim, thanks. Guest its been a great pleasure. Thanks. Cspan, where history unfolds daily. In 1979, cspan was created as a Public Service by americas Cable Television companies and is brought to you today by your cable or satellite provider. [inaudible conversations] welcome back, everybody. Lets get started. Im lela kite, im your room host for the day. Wearing a little weary by time but glad to be here. Im also chair of the brickle avenue literary society. Turn your cell phones off, please. Thank you all for coming. Lets thank our sponsors. We need to do that in every session, because they are so important to the success of the fair. So big thanks to knight foundation, ohl, the bachelor foundation, the deging ro to ot degroot foundation. As always, thank you to all of the friends of the book fair. We hope everybody in this room will be a friend by next year so you can enjoy all the activities that are available for friends during the year. We thank our volunteers, we thank the staff of the book fair and super big thanks to miamidade college. [applause] okay, thanks to all. [applause] we have a big crowd for a mighty important, prizewinning author, so let me start by introducing his introducer. Marsha dunn is a longtime miami resident, and she has been, talk about good examples, a friend of the Miami Book Fair since the very first year. How many of you are founding book fair friends . Anybody else been around as long as marsha . A few. Okay. Good. Anyway, she is an alumna of Barnard College and the university of miami school of law. She supports many cultural institutions in town, but she says that she is most devoted to, and most passionate about the book fair. She says that the popularity of the book fair says more about the intellectual climate of miami than any other event, and i think we will all agree with her. So please welcome marsha dunn who will introduce our next conversationalist. Thank you. [applause] as we know, oprah selected the underground railroad as one of her books for this year. Lee began her career in Book Publishing as a news aide for the washington post. After moving to new york, she became a publicity director for harcourt, brace and other publishers. Her first love is editing. She worked as an editor or with many famous writers; alice walker, steve martin, lou reed, the list goes on. Id like to welcome lee mayber whos going to be haber, whos going to be our questioner. [applause] Colson Whitehead was hailed as one of americas most talented and innovative authors before thetic publication of the publication of the underground railroad, his eighth book. A native new yorker, harvard graduate, professor, mark Arthur Macarthur genius award winner, guggenheim fellow, mr. Whitehead is now the recipient of the 2016 National Book award for fiction [applause] we are so fortunate to have him here. The novel was published to uniform acclaim both for its devastating account of the terrible human cost of slavery and for its unique style. Mr. Whitehead freely mixes the surreal with the real and changes the Chronological Order of events to create a novel of tremendous, chilling power. It is the tale of cora, a slave on a plantation in georgia in the 1800st. The opening sentence 1800s. The opening sentence says it all. The first time caesar approached cora about running north, she said no. I urge all of you to discover what happens when he asks her a second time. And now its my great pleasure to introduce Colson Whitehead and welcome him to our Miami Book Fair. [applause] hey, howdy. Thanks so much for coming. Thanks to the Miami Book Fair for having me. I usually spend sunday afternoons in my apartment weeping over my regrets, so this is a nice change of pace. [laughter] my pjs. I first had the idea for the book 16 years ago. I was sitting in my house and came across a reference and remembers how when i was in fourth grade for a few moments until my teacher explained how it actually worked, i envisioned the underground network beneath america like a subway. And, of course, its very impractical for many reasons. And this day 16 years ago i thought, you know, thatd be a weird premise for a book if the underground railroad was a literal train. And thats a premise, not much of a story. So i added the element where each state our character goes through as she runs north, south carolina, North Carolina, is a different state of american possibility. Sort of like gullivers travels, an alternative america. I knew if i tried it then, i would have screwed it up, and so i decided to wait until i was maybe a better writer, a little more mature. And each time i finished a book, i would pull out my notes and think, am i ready . And each time the answer was, no, until about two and a half years ago. Id sold a book idea to my editor, and but i was feeling a little bit unsure. So i told my wife about the idea about the underground railroad book. Sometimes in a marriage you have to talk, make conversation [laughter] to kill the silences. And so [laughter] she said i dont want to say that the book youre working on now about a brooklyn writer going through a midlife crisis is dumb per se [laughter] but this other book sounds pretty interesting. So i was like, huh. So i went to my agent ive worked with for 18 years and told her, and she said, well, both ideas sound good. Which is not very helpful. [laughter] but then she mailed me on a sunday, which she never does. And usually your agent tries to contact you on a sunday, youve done something wrong. But instead she said i cant stop thinking about that other idea. So i was like, huh, two. So wednesday was shrink day, so i told my shrink [laughter] and she said, what are you, crazy . [laughter] i mean, we both know youre crazy, but it sounds like this is the thing you should be working on. So my editor, who ive worked with for a long time, and i sold this other idea. And she just said giddy up, mother blanketyblank which is old School Publishing talk for thats a good idea, and we should pursue it. [laughter] so i did, and this is the result. So im going the read two brief sections. One is early in the book. Its the birthday of old jacques, the oldest slave on the plantation. And whenever he senses a need for release, he declares its my birthday, and it could be once or twice a year. They have a feist and music, and its a brief release from the hell of the plantation. Caesar is the slave who eventually convinced cora to run north. He grew up on a plantation, on a small farm in virginia and was promised when his owner died that hed be set free, but she left no instructions, and so he was sold down south to a much more brutal slave system. And now hes at the randall plantation with cora, which is owned by james and terence randall. Then theres a reference to chester whos a young boy, 10 years old, who cora, our protagonist, has taken under her wing. The music stopped, the circle broke. Sometimes a slave will be lost in a brief eddy of liberation, in the sway of a sudden reverie among the furrows or while untangling the mysteries of an Early Morning dream. In the middle of a song on a warm sunday night. Then it comes always, the overseers cry, the call to work, the shadow of the master. The reminder that shes only a human being for a tiny moment across the eternity of her servitude. The Randall Brothers had emerged from the great house and were among them. The slaves stepped aside making calculations of what distance represented the right proportion of fear and respect. Godfrey, james houseboy, held up a lantern. According to old jacques, james favored the mother. Stout as a barrel and just as firm in countenance, and terence took after the father, tall and owlfaced, perpetually on the verge of p swooping down on prey. They inherited their fathers tailor who arrived once a month with his samples of linen and cotton. The brothers dressed alike when they were children and continued to do so into manhood. Their white trousers and shirts were as clean as the slaves hands could make them, the men looked like ghosts emerging from the dark. Master or james, jacques said, his good hand gripped the arm of his chair as if to rise. Master or tenderness. Dont let us disturb you, terence said. My brother and i were discussing business and heard music. I told him, that is the most god awful racket ive ever heard. The randalls had looked as if theyd drained a few bottles of wine. Cora searched for caesars face in the crowd. She didnt find him. She hadnt been present the last time the brothers appear together. You did well to remember the different lessons of those occasions. Something always happened when the randalls ventured into the corridor. Sooner or later a new thing coming, you couldnt predict until it was upon you. James left the daily operations to his man connolly and rarely visited. He might grant a tour to a visitor, a distinguished neighbor or curious planter from another neck of the woods, but it was rare. James rarely addressed his niggers whod been taught to keep working and ignore his presence. When terence appeared, he usually appraised each slave and made a note of which men were the most able and which women the most appealing. Content to leer at his brothers women, he grazed heartily upon the women of his own half. I like to taste my plums, terence said, prowling the rows of cabins to see what struck his fancy. Violated the bonds of affection, sometimes visiting slaves on their wedding night to show the husband the proper way to discharge his marital duty. He tasted his plums and broke the skin and left his mark. It was accepted that james was of a different orientation. To hear his valet prideful tell it, james confined his erotic energies to specialized rooms in a new orleans establishment. The madam was broadminded and modern. Adept in the trajectories of human desire. Pridefuls stories were hard to believe despite assurances that he received his reports from the staff of the place with whom hed grown close over the years. After all, what kind of white man would willingly submit to the whip . Terence scratched his cane in the dirt. It had been his fathers cane, topped with a silver wolfs head. Many remembered its bite on their flesh. Terence said, i recollected james told me about a nigger down here could recite the declaration of independence. I cant bring myself to believe him. I told him perhaps tonight he can show me since everyone is out and about from the sound of it. Well settle it, james said. Where is that boy, michael . No one said anything. Godfrey waved the lantern around pathetically. Moses was the boss unfortunate enough to stand closest to the Randall Brothers. He cleared his throat. Michael dead, master james. Michael, the slave in question, had indeed possessed the ability to recite long passages. According to connolly, who heard the story from the nigger trader, michaels former master was fascinated by the abilities of south american parrots and reasoned that a slave might be taught to remember as well. Merely glancing at the size of their skulls told you the nigger possessed a bigger brain than a bird. Michael had been the son of his masters coachman, had a brand of animal cleverness, the kind you see in pigs sometimes. The master and his unlikely pupil started with simple rhymes and short passages from popular british versifiers. They went slow over the words the nigger didnt understand, and if truth be told, the master only half understood. But they made miracles, the tobacco farmer and the coachmansing son. The deck declaration of indepene was their masterpiece. Michaels ability never amounted to more than a parlor trick, delighting visitors before the discussion turned, as it always did, to the diminished faculties of niggers. His owner grew bored and sold the boy south. By the time michael got to randall, he was a mediocre worker. He complained of noises and black spells that blotted his memory. In exasperation, connolly beat what little brains he had left. It was discouraging that michael was not intended to survive, and it achieved its purpose. I should have been told, james said, his displeasure plain. Michaels recitation had been a novel diversion the two times he trotted the nigger out for guests. Terence liked to tease his brother. James, he said, you need to keep better track of your property. Dont meddle. Terence continued, i mean, let your slaves have revels, but i had no idea they were so extravagant. Are you trying to make me look bad . Dont pretend you care what a nigger thinks about you, terence. James glass was empty. He turned to go. Oh, one more song, james. These sounds have grown on me. George and wesley, the musicians, were forlorn. Noble and his tambourine or were nowhere to be seen. James pressed his lips into a slit. He gestured, and the men started playing. Terence tapped his cane, his face sank as he took in the crowd. Youre not going to dance . I have to insist. You and you and you. They didnt wait for their masters signal. The slaves of the northern half converged on the alley haltingly, trying to insinuate themselves into the previous rhythm and put on a show. Putting on a show for master was a familiar skill. The small angles and advantages of the mask, and they shook off their fear as they settled into their performance. Oh, how they caper asked hollered, shouted and hopped. Certainly, this was the most lively song theyd ever heard. The musicians, the most accomplished players, the colored race had to offer. Cora checked the randall brother reactions on every turn like everyone else. Jacques tumbled his hands in his lap to keep time. Cora found caesars face. He stood in a shadow of the kitchen, his expression flat. Then he withdrew. You it was terence. He held his hand before him as if it were covered in some eternal stain that only he could see. Then cora caught sight of it. The single drop of red wine staining the cuff of his lovely white shirt. Chester, the boy, had bumped him. Chester similar per ored and bowed before the white man. Sorry, master. Sorry, master. The cane crashed across his shoulder and head again and again. The boy screamed and shrank to the dirt as the blows continued. Terences arm rose and fell. James looked tired. One drop, a feeling settled over cora. Shed not been under its spell in years, since she brought the hatchet down on blakes doghouse and sent the splinters into the air. Shed seen men hung from trees and left for buzzards and yous, women carved open to the bones, feet cut off to prevent escape and hands cut off to stop theft. Shed seen boys and girls younger than this beaten, and it had done nothing. This night the feeling settled over her heart again, it grabbed hold of her, and before the slave part of her caught up with the human part of her, she was bent over the boys body as a shield. She held the cane in her hand like a swamp man handling a snake and saw the ornament at its tip. The silver wolf bared its silver teeth, then the cane was out of her hand, and it came down on her head. It crashed down again and again, and this time the silver teeth ripped across her eyes, and her blood splatter ored the dirt. So thats it for that section. I guess you can see how things deteriorate for cora on the plantation, and she decides to take caesar up on his offer. And she has a few adventures, misadventures, and ends up later in the book on valentine farm where free men and free women have runaways and fugitives have set up their own community. A kind of black i utopia commune. And they work together, and every saturday they have music, and they debate the philosophical issues of the day about whats next in black society. And mingo is a more conservative voice, and hes having a date with lander whos a more progressive choice. And mingo has just spoken, and lander addresses valentine farm. Brother mingo made some good points, lander said. We cant save everyone. But that doesnt mean we cant try. Sometimes a useful delusion is better than a useless truth. Heres one delusion that we can escape slavery. We cant. Its scars never fade. When you saw your mother sold off, your father beaten, your sister abused by some boss or master, did you ever think that youd sit here today without chains, without the yoke, among a new family . Everything you ever knew told you that freedom was a trick, yet here you are still rerun, tracking by the good, full moon to sanctuary. Valentine farm is a delusion. Who told you that the negro deserved a place of refuge . Who told you that you had that right . Every minute of your lifes suffering has argued otherwise. For every fact of history, it can exist. This place must be a delusion too. Yet here we are. And america, too, was an illusion, the grandest one of all. The white race believes, believes with all its heart that it is their right to take the land, to kill indians, make war, enslave their brothers. This nation shouldnt exist. If theres any justice in the world, because its foundations are murder, theft and cruelty. Yet here we are. Im supposed to answer mingos call for gradual progress, for closing our doors to those in need. Im supposed to answer those who think this place is too close to the grievous influence of slavery and that we should move west. I dont have an answer for you. I dont know what we should do. The word we in some ways the only thing we have in common is the color of our skin. Our ancestors came from all over the african continent. Its quite large. Brother valentine has the maps of the world in his splendid library. You can look for yourself. They had different ways of subsistence, different customs, spoke a hundred different languages. And that great mixture was brought to america in the holds of slave ships to the north, to the south. Their sons and daughters picked tobacco, cultivated cotton, worked in the largest estates and smallest farms. We are craftsmen and midwives and preachers and peddlers. Black hands built the white house, the seat of our nations government. The word we. We are not one people, but many different people. How could one person speak for this great, beautiful race which is not one race, but many with a million desires and hopes and wishes for ourselves and our children . For we are africans in america. Something new in the history of this World Without models for what we will become. Color must suffice. Its brought us here this night to this discussion, and itll take us to the future. All i truly know is that we rise and fall as one, one colored Family Living next door to one white family. We may not know the way through the forest, but we can pick each other up when we fall, and we arrive together. When the former residents of valentine farm reca