What do you think?
Rate this book
Colored Television
ŷ Choice Award
Nominee for Readers' Favorite Fiction (2024)An alternative cover edition can be found here
A dark comedy about second acts, creative appropriation, and the racial identity–industrial complex
Jane has high hopes her life is about to turn around. After years of living precariously, she; her painter husband, Lenny; and their two kids have landed a stint as house sitters in a friend’s luxurious home in the hills above Los Angeles, a gig that coincides magically with Jane’s sabbatical. If she can just finish her latest novel, Nusu Nusu, the centuries-spanning epic Lenny refers to as her “mulatto War and Peace,� she’ll have tenure and some semblance of stability and success within her grasp.
But things don’t work out quite as hoped. In search of a plan B, like countless writers before her, Jane turns her desperate gaze to Hollywood. After she meets with a hot young producer to create “diverse content� for a streaming network, he seems excited to work with a “real writer.� She can create what he envisions as the greatest biracial comedy to ever hit the small screen. Things finally seem to be going right for Jane—until they go terribly wrong.
A dark comedy about second acts, creative appropriation, and the racial identity–industrial complex
Jane has high hopes her life is about to turn around. After years of living precariously, she; her painter husband, Lenny; and their two kids have landed a stint as house sitters in a friend’s luxurious home in the hills above Los Angeles, a gig that coincides magically with Jane’s sabbatical. If she can just finish her latest novel, Nusu Nusu, the centuries-spanning epic Lenny refers to as her “mulatto War and Peace,� she’ll have tenure and some semblance of stability and success within her grasp.
But things don’t work out quite as hoped. In search of a plan B, like countless writers before her, Jane turns her desperate gaze to Hollywood. After she meets with a hot young producer to create “diverse content� for a streaming network, he seems excited to work with a “real writer.� She can create what he envisions as the greatest biracial comedy to ever hit the small screen. Things finally seem to be going right for Jane—until they go terribly wrong.
288 pages, Hardcover
First published September 3, 2024
2,085 people are currently reading
68.6k people want to read
About the author
Danzy Senna
12books947followersDanzy Senna is an American novelist, born and raised in Boston, Massachusetts in 1970. Her parents, Carl Senna, an Afro-Mexican poet and author, and Fanny Howe, who is Irish-American writer, were also civil rights activists.
She attended Stanford University and received an MFA from the University of California at Irvine. There, she received several creative writing awards.
Her debut novel, Caucasia (later republished as From Caucasia With Love), was well received and won several awards including the Book-Of-The-Month Stephen Crane Award for First Fiction, and the Alex Award from the American Library Association.
Her second novel, Symptomatic, was also well received. Both books feature a biracial protagonist and offer a unique view on life from their perspective.
Senna has also contributed to anthologies such as Gumbo.
In 2002, Senna received the Whiting Writers Award and in 2004 was named a Fellow for the New York Public Library's Cullman Center for Scholars and Writers.
Danzy Senna is married to fellow writer Percival Everett and they have a son, Henry together. Their residences have included Los Angeles and New York City.
She attended Stanford University and received an MFA from the University of California at Irvine. There, she received several creative writing awards.
Her debut novel, Caucasia (later republished as From Caucasia With Love), was well received and won several awards including the Book-Of-The-Month Stephen Crane Award for First Fiction, and the Alex Award from the American Library Association.
Her second novel, Symptomatic, was also well received. Both books feature a biracial protagonist and offer a unique view on life from their perspective.
Senna has also contributed to anthologies such as Gumbo.
In 2002, Senna received the Whiting Writers Award and in 2004 was named a Fellow for the New York Public Library's Cullman Center for Scholars and Writers.
Danzy Senna is married to fellow writer Percival Everett and they have a son, Henry together. Their residences have included Los Angeles and New York City.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 2,368 reviews
December 24, 2024
I really wanted to love this book. But at the end of the day, it's hard to love something you don't really understand.
Let me start with what I enjoyed. Colored Television was interesting and unusual, and because I've never read anything like it, it fully engaged my brain. It constantly tried to explore so many meaningful topics that it often felt like every sentence and every paragraph had the potential to be something profound.
Every time I sat down with this book, I didn't want to put it down. I wanted to keep going, to keep turning the pages. There was this perpetual feeling that something compelling was right around the corner, if only I could stick around for a few more pages to find out what it was.
But the problem is that the compelling bits never really emerged. This story had the anticipation and the tension, but not the payoff. The whole thing felt like a setup instead of a story with a beginning, middle, and end.
The same could be said for the would-be interesting explorations. It feels like a lot of great ideas were introduced, but then nothing came of them. Yes, the book made me think, but that's because it served up ideas without any follow-through, so I was forced to come up with stuff myself or just leave the ideas dangling. As a result, while the book may have arrested my attention, it didn't actually give me anything new I could take away with me.
Let me give an example. It's clear Jane suffered from envy and wanted an upper-middle class life. But neither she nor her husband were willing to give up their high-minded artistic pursuits in trade for a job that would make more money. In fact, they regarded everyone who did as sellouts and were bitterly against them. Okay, but so what? I understand (as I'm sure everyone does) the conundrum of either working a well-paid but soulless job versus pursuing your passions but making considerably less, so I didn't understand what this story was trying to add to that conversation.
Another example is Finn, Jane and Lenny's son. He is possibly special-needs, but they're not sure. Jane and Lenny have different parenting views on what this could mean. Okay, but so what? I'm pretty sure every set of parents have had differing views at one point or another regarding their child, special needs or not. Again here, I feel like the author is trying to say something, but what it is eludes me.
Maybe part of the issue is the characters. Jane was not really sympathetic and neither were any of the supporting characters. They all just seemed to muddle along, blissfully certain in their views of the world while being bitterly against everyone who doesn't share them. From beginning to end, it seemed like there were no character growth, no gained understanding from their experiences.
Or maybe the problem is that this is billed as a dark comedy, but I didn't see any humor. It's not that I read potentially funny passages and just didn't laugh because it wasn't my brand of humor. No, it's more that I didn't even understand where the humor could be. Instead, this story felt earnest throughout, almost overly so, and thus I had to take everything it said seriously.
I suspect if I'd understood the humor, this probably would've read like a completely different story to me. Or if it hadn't come across so shallowly traversed, as I always prefer more depth than breadth. But as it stands, I can't shake the feeling that I didn't quite get this story. Still, I really enjoyed Senna's writing and will check out more from her. Hopefully my next foray will be more successful.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
� Connect with me � �
Let me start with what I enjoyed. Colored Television was interesting and unusual, and because I've never read anything like it, it fully engaged my brain. It constantly tried to explore so many meaningful topics that it often felt like every sentence and every paragraph had the potential to be something profound.
Every time I sat down with this book, I didn't want to put it down. I wanted to keep going, to keep turning the pages. There was this perpetual feeling that something compelling was right around the corner, if only I could stick around for a few more pages to find out what it was.
But the problem is that the compelling bits never really emerged. This story had the anticipation and the tension, but not the payoff. The whole thing felt like a setup instead of a story with a beginning, middle, and end.
The same could be said for the would-be interesting explorations. It feels like a lot of great ideas were introduced, but then nothing came of them. Yes, the book made me think, but that's because it served up ideas without any follow-through, so I was forced to come up with stuff myself or just leave the ideas dangling. As a result, while the book may have arrested my attention, it didn't actually give me anything new I could take away with me.
Let me give an example. It's clear Jane suffered from envy and wanted an upper-middle class life. But neither she nor her husband were willing to give up their high-minded artistic pursuits in trade for a job that would make more money. In fact, they regarded everyone who did as sellouts and were bitterly against them. Okay, but so what? I understand (as I'm sure everyone does) the conundrum of either working a well-paid but soulless job versus pursuing your passions but making considerably less, so I didn't understand what this story was trying to add to that conversation.
Another example is Finn, Jane and Lenny's son. He is possibly special-needs, but they're not sure. Jane and Lenny have different parenting views on what this could mean. Okay, but so what? I'm pretty sure every set of parents have had differing views at one point or another regarding their child, special needs or not. Again here, I feel like the author is trying to say something, but what it is eludes me.
Maybe part of the issue is the characters. Jane was not really sympathetic and neither were any of the supporting characters. They all just seemed to muddle along, blissfully certain in their views of the world while being bitterly against everyone who doesn't share them. From beginning to end, it seemed like there were no character growth, no gained understanding from their experiences.
Or maybe the problem is that this is billed as a dark comedy, but I didn't see any humor. It's not that I read potentially funny passages and just didn't laugh because it wasn't my brand of humor. No, it's more that I didn't even understand where the humor could be. Instead, this story felt earnest throughout, almost overly so, and thus I had to take everything it said seriously.
I suspect if I'd understood the humor, this probably would've read like a completely different story to me. Or if it hadn't come across so shallowly traversed, as I always prefer more depth than breadth. But as it stands, I can't shake the feeling that I didn't quite get this story. Still, I really enjoyed Senna's writing and will check out more from her. Hopefully my next foray will be more successful.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
� Connect with me � �
September 3, 2024
Not much dust had settled on his old playbook when Donald Trump felt inspired last month to probe Kamala Harris’s racial identity. Like some prudent antebellum buyer, he wanted to understand what he was getting. “I don’t know,� Trump wondered aloud. “Is she Indian? Or is she black?�
To say we’ve been here before is an understatement. We’ve never left. The myth of racial purity lies at the heart of White supremacy, and keeping that poisonous ideology alive requires fixating on the ancestral “mysteries� of people of color, while assuming that Whiteness is undiluted, unsullied.
In 1998, a decade before America elected its first biracial president, Danzy Senna published a debut novel called “Caucasia� about two sisters who, like the author, have a Black father and a White mother. Since then, in witty fiction and nonfiction, Senna has continued to explore the lives of biracial people and to prick our crazy-making anxiety about racial ambiguity.
Now, on the short list of good things happening during this election season, you can put Senna’s sly new book, “Colored Television.� It has nothing to do with politics, except that it has everything to do with politics. It’s an exceptionally assured novel about trying to find a home and a job in a culture constantly swirling between denigrating racial identity and fetishizing it.
Senna’s shrewd comedy starts right there in the title with its discomfiting pun, but “Colored Television� quickly pushes even harder against the boundaries of genteel speech. The protagonist is a biracial woman named Jane Gibson, who’s hoping to earn tenure at a university where she delivers trigger warnings and assigns “only minimalist autofiction by queer POC authors.� When the story opens, Jane is on sabbatical and has just finished her second novel, titled “Nusu Nusu,� Swahili for “partly-partly.� It began as a story inspired by the life of Carol Channing, the actress who didn’t publicly acknowledge her African American ancestry until late in life. Somewhere along the way, though, Jane’s manuscript mushroomed into a....
To read the rest of this review, please go to The Washington Post:
To say we’ve been here before is an understatement. We’ve never left. The myth of racial purity lies at the heart of White supremacy, and keeping that poisonous ideology alive requires fixating on the ancestral “mysteries� of people of color, while assuming that Whiteness is undiluted, unsullied.
In 1998, a decade before America elected its first biracial president, Danzy Senna published a debut novel called “Caucasia� about two sisters who, like the author, have a Black father and a White mother. Since then, in witty fiction and nonfiction, Senna has continued to explore the lives of biracial people and to prick our crazy-making anxiety about racial ambiguity.
Now, on the short list of good things happening during this election season, you can put Senna’s sly new book, “Colored Television.� It has nothing to do with politics, except that it has everything to do with politics. It’s an exceptionally assured novel about trying to find a home and a job in a culture constantly swirling between denigrating racial identity and fetishizing it.
Senna’s shrewd comedy starts right there in the title with its discomfiting pun, but “Colored Television� quickly pushes even harder against the boundaries of genteel speech. The protagonist is a biracial woman named Jane Gibson, who’s hoping to earn tenure at a university where she delivers trigger warnings and assigns “only minimalist autofiction by queer POC authors.� When the story opens, Jane is on sabbatical and has just finished her second novel, titled “Nusu Nusu,� Swahili for “partly-partly.� It began as a story inspired by the life of Carol Channing, the actress who didn’t publicly acknowledge her African American ancestry until late in life. Somewhere along the way, though, Jane’s manuscript mushroomed into a....
To read the rest of this review, please go to The Washington Post:
August 19, 2024
4.5 stars
This book kept me on my toes! I think at its core is the theme of artists� struggle to survive and to produce work that is rich and meaningful and well-regarded by the public, especially artists of color. Danzy Senna also does a great job of portraying the difficulties of married life and raising kids, without doing so in a tropey way.
And that lack of tropey-ness is what makes Colored Telvision exceptional beyond these core themes � Senna’s voice is so new and funny and sharp. This is the first book in a while that literally made me laugh out loud within the first ten pages. Senna’s sense of humor can be biting and dark and antagonistic toward people with privilege and power (e.g., white people), which I love. She addresses race and biracial identity in ways that feel fresh and progressive and a bit controversial, instead of relying on tired takes that have already been done. I feel like some passages in this book may make white people and people of color who align with whiteness a bit uncomfortable, which I believe is a sign of an excellent writer and one who’s willing to take risks. I’ll just say that the way Senna writes about people of color who date white people� she’s my kind of writer for real for that.
I don’t think Colored Television is perfect. There were times especially in the second half of the book where I felt that Senna was straying the lines between a dark comedy and a novel aiming for something a bit more realistically sentimental, which I’m not sure always worked. I also thought a couple of the humorous lines were misses, like a line from the protagonist comparing a picture of her family to Palestinians in the West Bank (uh� what) or a random dig at Gen Z. Still, this one had me flipping the pages and had the energy of a thriller even though it’s solidly realistic fiction. I also liked how she showed that people of color aren’t always great for communities of color and that representation politics can only get us so far. All in all, Senna said something different with this book and for that I’m appreciative!
This book kept me on my toes! I think at its core is the theme of artists� struggle to survive and to produce work that is rich and meaningful and well-regarded by the public, especially artists of color. Danzy Senna also does a great job of portraying the difficulties of married life and raising kids, without doing so in a tropey way.
And that lack of tropey-ness is what makes Colored Telvision exceptional beyond these core themes � Senna’s voice is so new and funny and sharp. This is the first book in a while that literally made me laugh out loud within the first ten pages. Senna’s sense of humor can be biting and dark and antagonistic toward people with privilege and power (e.g., white people), which I love. She addresses race and biracial identity in ways that feel fresh and progressive and a bit controversial, instead of relying on tired takes that have already been done. I feel like some passages in this book may make white people and people of color who align with whiteness a bit uncomfortable, which I believe is a sign of an excellent writer and one who’s willing to take risks. I’ll just say that the way Senna writes about people of color who date white people� she’s my kind of writer for real for that.
I don’t think Colored Television is perfect. There were times especially in the second half of the book where I felt that Senna was straying the lines between a dark comedy and a novel aiming for something a bit more realistically sentimental, which I’m not sure always worked. I also thought a couple of the humorous lines were misses, like a line from the protagonist comparing a picture of her family to Palestinians in the West Bank (uh� what) or a random dig at Gen Z. Still, this one had me flipping the pages and had the energy of a thriller even though it’s solidly realistic fiction. I also liked how she showed that people of color aren’t always great for communities of color and that representation politics can only get us so far. All in all, Senna said something different with this book and for that I’m appreciative!
September 5, 2024
This was a miss for me. Only in the last 2 chapters did this story get interesting. Several reviews say they felt the story had the tension of a thriller but I was not getting that at all. Unless the tension was just “how are these two people who refuse to get better jobs, going to pay their bills?� Majority of the story just felt like shadowing Jane at work. Jane and Lenny were also pretty annoying.
January 18, 2024
Danzy Senna keeps getting better. This book is a total joy and a wild ride. Senna captures the limits of reality before it tips into fully wild unbelievable chaos. She gets understated but also zany perfectly. She builds tension for her characters and her readers (almost like a thriller) and make the mundanity of life feel so high stakes. She doesn't get the credit deserves for her skill. Not to mention the ways she talks the world of mixed people seriously, she is unmatched.
January 24, 2025
Nominated for the National Book Critics Circle Award for Fiction 2024
SO. MUCH. FUN. In her brand new novel, Senna tells the story of a biracial writer named Jane who is married with children to a Black painter (the fact that biracial Danzy Senna is married with children to Black author makes the whole book even funnier). The couple is short on money, but Jane trusts that her latest novel which she spent a decade crafting will catapult them into comfortable middle-class life - until it gets rejected and she gets told to not always write about biracial people and find another subject (Senna, you guessed it, always writes about mixed-race people). Now Jane tries to change direction and become a TV writer...
I love books about the art scene, and "Colored Television" finds hilarious ways to show an artistic bohème with bills to pay that has pledged allegiance to high art, but also wants to live in a nice house - of course, that's a problem that transcends the milieu, because it's easy to be a snobby purist when you're 17 and daddy buys your food, but it's harder to be righteous when you are over 30 and carry responsibilities yourself. Jane is a messy, three-dimensional female breadwinner with a husband making basically no real income and obsessing over Japan, while she is trying to stir the ship. While they are house-sitting for a rich friend, ogling his nice belongings, she wants to find a way to ascend to the financial class she is now cosplaying to belong to.
And Senna is also very witty when it comes to satirizing the marketability of identities and minorities. There are some very sharp sentences about creating art that sells, and about audiences eating up trendy discourse. It's very suitable as an audio book, as the structure of the plot and the construction of the sentences are not particularly complicated, but there are many surprising metaphors and comparisons as well as detailed descriptions that just work with the whole concept.
Sure, the ending could have been better, but hell, this is very smart fun.
SO. MUCH. FUN. In her brand new novel, Senna tells the story of a biracial writer named Jane who is married with children to a Black painter (the fact that biracial Danzy Senna is married with children to Black author makes the whole book even funnier). The couple is short on money, but Jane trusts that her latest novel which she spent a decade crafting will catapult them into comfortable middle-class life - until it gets rejected and she gets told to not always write about biracial people and find another subject (Senna, you guessed it, always writes about mixed-race people). Now Jane tries to change direction and become a TV writer...
I love books about the art scene, and "Colored Television" finds hilarious ways to show an artistic bohème with bills to pay that has pledged allegiance to high art, but also wants to live in a nice house - of course, that's a problem that transcends the milieu, because it's easy to be a snobby purist when you're 17 and daddy buys your food, but it's harder to be righteous when you are over 30 and carry responsibilities yourself. Jane is a messy, three-dimensional female breadwinner with a husband making basically no real income and obsessing over Japan, while she is trying to stir the ship. While they are house-sitting for a rich friend, ogling his nice belongings, she wants to find a way to ascend to the financial class she is now cosplaying to belong to.
And Senna is also very witty when it comes to satirizing the marketability of identities and minorities. There are some very sharp sentences about creating art that sells, and about audiences eating up trendy discourse. It's very suitable as an audio book, as the structure of the plot and the construction of the sentences are not particularly complicated, but there are many surprising metaphors and comparisons as well as detailed descriptions that just work with the whole concept.
Sure, the ending could have been better, but hell, this is very smart fun.
Want to read
February 7, 2025i'll never get tired of writers writing writers
September 20, 2024
Danzy Senna owns the word “mulatto� in this bracing satire—or should I say� her protagonist-- writer and non-tenured college professor, Jane Gibson, owns it. For her, it’s the only word that specifically describes a person with one Black and one white parent. Jane Gibson has devoted ten years to writing her second novel--an historical opus about the mulatto experience. It’s dense, it’s edifying, and 467 pages. She has taken back that denigrating word, much like queer folk took back queer, and raised it up.
“Biracial could be any old thing. Korean and Panamanian or Chinese and Egyptian. But a mulatto is always specifically a mulatto� (like Jane). But, in her determination to be exacting, has Jane lost the plot? She needs the book published in order to get tenure, in order to make money, in order to live in a gentrified “Multicultural Mayberry� neighborhood. But there’s a part of her that feels guilt and shame, that her obsession with this novel has interfered with proper parenting of her children.
In the meantime, our protagonist, her husband, Lenny--an abstract artist whose work doesn’t sell--and their two children, Ruby and Finn, are living on the margins of money and wealth in LA. They are house sitting for Jane’s rich “sellout� writer-friend, Brett, also mulatto, who wrote a serious literary book, but now writes a hit zombie TV show. His house in the hills, in an excellent school district, is extravagant and spacious, with an impressive stock of tailored wines.
Jane sneers at Brett’s new career, but living in his house is a boon. She loves it. Colored Television is full of the irony and paradox of need, desire, identity, family, the façade of prosperity, racial politics, and the exploitation of racial politics.
Jane understands the white embrasure of Black art, Black suffering, Black friends, even Black history month, and how much is a construct for white audiences. If you play the race game a particular way, you hit the jackpot. For example, Lenny, who is Black, keeps his art neutral, without racial depiction. Jane suggests that if he painted an emblem of Blackness in the corner of his paintings, they would sell like hotcakes. It may sound wheedling, but she has a point. Lenny refuses. In the meantime, her publisher wants Jane to stop writing about the mixed-race identity and “expand your territory.�
A dark journey awaits Jane and her aspirations, as she pivots to following Brett’s path. She steals his idea, to make a comedy TV show about a mulatto family/cast. Jane’s lies get bolder as she inveigles an interview with Hampton Ford, an affluent Black producer who is keen for her idea. I began to have that crushing feeling as I read further, as Jane deceives Lenny about the book, the show, and what she is doing about her endeavors. Her principles evaporate as the vision of success gains steam.
The closer it is to Brett’s return, the more desperate Jane becomes; she’s scared of being homeless or living in poverty. She’s tired of subletting and living in shady parts of town. Finn may have a learning disability—it isn’t determined—and Ruby is a curious, high-spirited child. It’s important to Jane that they live in a blue-ribbon school district.
Not long ago, Jane felt superior to Brett and his industry friends for giving up literature and descending to the lower depths of culture for easy money. Luxury would be a nice side effect of achievement, she now thinks. Integrity be damned.
“But lies are a funny thing. They don’t stay where they’re supposed to stay. They morph and mutate and spread like smallpox. A lie well told, often enough told, began to eat one’s memory. And over time, it became harder to say where the fiction ended and the truth began. And maybe if you lied long enough you became a lie.�
The above was a passage in her finally finished novel, about the triracial Melungeon people living in Cumberland Gap, who were forced to lie to save their lives. How far would Jane lie to get what she wants, to attain the status she feared would elude her? The status that would save—or at least change her life.
As the chapters progress and the tension ratchets up, the crack and sizzle of the novel gets near-explosive, in a quiet, interior kind of way. Much of that tension is Jane’s state of mind, which makes it even more decisive, (or maybe pathological). My anxiety increased as I neared the denouement but the biting wit lessened my dread. There is a bounteous buffet of quotable passages that I found myself reading out loud, just to hear Senna’s voice in my own. I didn't even mind that I predicted the twist, because the twist itself isn't the point. It's what Jane does, feels, thinks that makes the story.
Here's one that turned my head, and I can’t stop thinking about the irony:
“…Jane recalled an old photograph, a tintype she’d seen in a book many years ago, of a Black wet nurse with a white baby. The enslaved woman sat with her breasts exposed, staring out at the camera with a harrowing kind of sadness. Before Jane now was a new kind of daguerreotype: the white woman smiling brightly, the pampered dark baby nestled in her arms.� Wow, that’s all I can say. Just…wow.
Thank you so kindly to Riverhead for sending me a finished copy for review. This is my first Danzy Senna novel, but definitely not my last! I didn’t know she was married to Percival Everett until right before I received the book. I’d love to be a fly on the wall in that house of brilliance, I’m sure I’d never be bored.
“Biracial could be any old thing. Korean and Panamanian or Chinese and Egyptian. But a mulatto is always specifically a mulatto� (like Jane). But, in her determination to be exacting, has Jane lost the plot? She needs the book published in order to get tenure, in order to make money, in order to live in a gentrified “Multicultural Mayberry� neighborhood. But there’s a part of her that feels guilt and shame, that her obsession with this novel has interfered with proper parenting of her children.
In the meantime, our protagonist, her husband, Lenny--an abstract artist whose work doesn’t sell--and their two children, Ruby and Finn, are living on the margins of money and wealth in LA. They are house sitting for Jane’s rich “sellout� writer-friend, Brett, also mulatto, who wrote a serious literary book, but now writes a hit zombie TV show. His house in the hills, in an excellent school district, is extravagant and spacious, with an impressive stock of tailored wines.
Jane sneers at Brett’s new career, but living in his house is a boon. She loves it. Colored Television is full of the irony and paradox of need, desire, identity, family, the façade of prosperity, racial politics, and the exploitation of racial politics.
Jane understands the white embrasure of Black art, Black suffering, Black friends, even Black history month, and how much is a construct for white audiences. If you play the race game a particular way, you hit the jackpot. For example, Lenny, who is Black, keeps his art neutral, without racial depiction. Jane suggests that if he painted an emblem of Blackness in the corner of his paintings, they would sell like hotcakes. It may sound wheedling, but she has a point. Lenny refuses. In the meantime, her publisher wants Jane to stop writing about the mixed-race identity and “expand your territory.�
A dark journey awaits Jane and her aspirations, as she pivots to following Brett’s path. She steals his idea, to make a comedy TV show about a mulatto family/cast. Jane’s lies get bolder as she inveigles an interview with Hampton Ford, an affluent Black producer who is keen for her idea. I began to have that crushing feeling as I read further, as Jane deceives Lenny about the book, the show, and what she is doing about her endeavors. Her principles evaporate as the vision of success gains steam.
The closer it is to Brett’s return, the more desperate Jane becomes; she’s scared of being homeless or living in poverty. She’s tired of subletting and living in shady parts of town. Finn may have a learning disability—it isn’t determined—and Ruby is a curious, high-spirited child. It’s important to Jane that they live in a blue-ribbon school district.
Not long ago, Jane felt superior to Brett and his industry friends for giving up literature and descending to the lower depths of culture for easy money. Luxury would be a nice side effect of achievement, she now thinks. Integrity be damned.
“But lies are a funny thing. They don’t stay where they’re supposed to stay. They morph and mutate and spread like smallpox. A lie well told, often enough told, began to eat one’s memory. And over time, it became harder to say where the fiction ended and the truth began. And maybe if you lied long enough you became a lie.�
The above was a passage in her finally finished novel, about the triracial Melungeon people living in Cumberland Gap, who were forced to lie to save their lives. How far would Jane lie to get what she wants, to attain the status she feared would elude her? The status that would save—or at least change her life.
As the chapters progress and the tension ratchets up, the crack and sizzle of the novel gets near-explosive, in a quiet, interior kind of way. Much of that tension is Jane’s state of mind, which makes it even more decisive, (or maybe pathological). My anxiety increased as I neared the denouement but the biting wit lessened my dread. There is a bounteous buffet of quotable passages that I found myself reading out loud, just to hear Senna’s voice in my own. I didn't even mind that I predicted the twist, because the twist itself isn't the point. It's what Jane does, feels, thinks that makes the story.
Here's one that turned my head, and I can’t stop thinking about the irony:
“…Jane recalled an old photograph, a tintype she’d seen in a book many years ago, of a Black wet nurse with a white baby. The enslaved woman sat with her breasts exposed, staring out at the camera with a harrowing kind of sadness. Before Jane now was a new kind of daguerreotype: the white woman smiling brightly, the pampered dark baby nestled in her arms.� Wow, that’s all I can say. Just…wow.
Thank you so kindly to Riverhead for sending me a finished copy for review. This is my first Danzy Senna novel, but definitely not my last! I didn’t know she was married to Percival Everett until right before I received the book. I’d love to be a fly on the wall in that house of brilliance, I’m sure I’d never be bored.
September 28, 2024
Colored Television was Barnes and Noble’s September book club selection. This is not one I planned to read on my own, though it does fit in with other novels I’ve read this year with the theme of race and colorism in America. The novel explores the experience of mulatto people in America and in that regard I would give it a very strong 4 stars.
There were several aspects of the novel I appreciated and enjoyed. Lenny was my favorite character, followed by Finn. I was not a fan of the narrator, Jane, or the choices she made. Lenny knows, embraces, and lives his identity. Jane doesn’t. She is struggling to write a TV script, yet her life mirrors TV. She is not an actor, but seems to live her life like a role based on wherever her current and ever changing housing situation takes her.
The author is very talented. She writes very distinct characters that stay true to who they are. The story was well written, but I didn’t like the end of the main story arc. It fit with and rang true to Jane’s character, but it didn’t ring true to what I would expect. I did like how the novel ended.
The narrative follows lie after lie. Characters avoid, manipulate, and dance around the truth. I don’t tend to enjoy this type of story, thus the three stars.
There were several aspects of the novel I appreciated and enjoyed. Lenny was my favorite character, followed by Finn. I was not a fan of the narrator, Jane, or the choices she made. Lenny knows, embraces, and lives his identity. Jane doesn’t. She is struggling to write a TV script, yet her life mirrors TV. She is not an actor, but seems to live her life like a role based on wherever her current and ever changing housing situation takes her.
The author is very talented. She writes very distinct characters that stay true to who they are. The story was well written, but I didn’t like the end of the main story arc. It fit with and rang true to Jane’s character, but it didn’t ring true to what I would expect. I did like how the novel ended.
The narrative follows lie after lie. Characters avoid, manipulate, and dance around the truth. I don’t tend to enjoy this type of story, thus the three stars.
October 2, 2024
I wanted to like this book, I really did. But from the first few pages onward I knew the protagonist was going to be very unlikeable to me and possibly borderline offensive. (Borderline is an understatement).
I find it odd that throughout this book, Black and biracial male characters are presented as complex and whole characters. Meanwhile, black female characters besides the protagonist are consistently flat and at the margins. The way it written left me with the impression that Jane (and possibly the author) do not engage with the Black women around them or see them as full people worthy of character exploration.
Ex: the protagonist’s automatic assumption that a baby was adopted directly from Africa just because she was dark skinned. (The baby could have been American and even multiracial too, since phenotype doesn’t show your racial makeup). She sizes up Layla, the TV directors assistant, and instantly deems her a “Nigerian princess/Valley girl�. (It’s left up to interpretation whether the protagonist comes up with this based on her being dark skinned). And of course, the two adult black women who are mentioned in passing but not engaged with at all are “Black lesbians� who live in the neighborhood she aspires to. (Was this for diversity’s sake, or because she can’t fathom that a black man and woman could be married and successful?) Lastly, she barely notices when her own daughter is healing from racial trauma and choosing to play with black baby doll she bought her.
Members of a book club I’m in did make me see that the book was written satirically, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t the target audience for this book. And that’s okay! As a black woman who has multiracial family members in every generation from my parents to 2x great grandparents, I don’t enjoy the “woe is me, I have racial trauma from being biracial� tone of the whole book.
At one point, a character mentions to the protagonist “did you know mixed people have been around since the beginning of time?� My instant thoughts were 1. Duh and 2. Maybe this book wasn’t written for people who have engaged with “mixedness� on further levels than the “toxic� post-loving generation pairing of Black men + white women.
It pushes a flattened view of what it means to be “mulatto� and completely ignores the way blackness and “mulatto-ness� have interacted since the beginnings of America. In her quest to prove that biracial people have always been some special class of people in America, she erases the generations of biracial people who acknowledged their mixed lineage but also were fully engaged with their multiracial/Black families and communities.
Felt half-baked and I didn’t enjoy it.
I find it odd that throughout this book, Black and biracial male characters are presented as complex and whole characters. Meanwhile, black female characters besides the protagonist are consistently flat and at the margins. The way it written left me with the impression that Jane (and possibly the author) do not engage with the Black women around them or see them as full people worthy of character exploration.
Ex: the protagonist’s automatic assumption that a baby was adopted directly from Africa just because she was dark skinned. (The baby could have been American and even multiracial too, since phenotype doesn’t show your racial makeup). She sizes up Layla, the TV directors assistant, and instantly deems her a “Nigerian princess/Valley girl�. (It’s left up to interpretation whether the protagonist comes up with this based on her being dark skinned). And of course, the two adult black women who are mentioned in passing but not engaged with at all are “Black lesbians� who live in the neighborhood she aspires to. (Was this for diversity’s sake, or because she can’t fathom that a black man and woman could be married and successful?) Lastly, she barely notices when her own daughter is healing from racial trauma and choosing to play with black baby doll she bought her.
Members of a book club I’m in did make me see that the book was written satirically, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t the target audience for this book. And that’s okay! As a black woman who has multiracial family members in every generation from my parents to 2x great grandparents, I don’t enjoy the “woe is me, I have racial trauma from being biracial� tone of the whole book.
At one point, a character mentions to the protagonist “did you know mixed people have been around since the beginning of time?� My instant thoughts were 1. Duh and 2. Maybe this book wasn’t written for people who have engaged with “mixedness� on further levels than the “toxic� post-loving generation pairing of Black men + white women.
It pushes a flattened view of what it means to be “mulatto� and completely ignores the way blackness and “mulatto-ness� have interacted since the beginnings of America. In her quest to prove that biracial people have always been some special class of people in America, she erases the generations of biracial people who acknowledged their mixed lineage but also were fully engaged with their multiracial/Black families and communities.
Felt half-baked and I didn’t enjoy it.
May 12, 2024
A really enjoyable dark comedy with a particularly sharp satire of the perils of Hollywood. Jane is the perfect lead, someone with an actually pretty charmed life who is not content with her lot and makes a regular string of bad decisions that consistently make everything more complicated and difficult. Yes, you will want to shake her constantly, but that's part of the fun.
It takes a while to get to the television stuff, but it's a short novel and that's when it really kicks into high gear. I would love to read a bunch more books like this, that have a fully developed world and a sharp observing eye. Jane and her family feel like real people, the kids never feel like they are just there for show. As usual, Senna has a very keen eye on issues of race and the particular conundrums of being biracial.
It takes a while to get to the television stuff, but it's a short novel and that's when it really kicks into high gear. I would love to read a bunch more books like this, that have a fully developed world and a sharp observing eye. Jane and her family feel like real people, the kids never feel like they are just there for show. As usual, Senna has a very keen eye on issues of race and the particular conundrums of being biracial.
November 16, 2024
In this amazing work, Danzy Senna crafts a sharply satirical and complex narrative that examines the intersections of racial identity, artistic ambition, and family life against the backdrop of contemporary Los Angeles. The story follows Jane, a biracial novelist and mother who, along with her painter husband, Lenny, and their two children, is temporarily living in a friend’s luxurious house in the Hollywood Hills. Jane sees this moment of stability as a chance to finish her long-in-progress novel, Nusu Nusu, a sprawling story that she hopes will cement her career and earn her a coveted tenured position. But as her dreams of literary success face the harsh realities of rejection, she pivots toward the allure of Hollywood and the promise of creating "diverse content" for a streaming network. Just when it seems like things might finally be going right for her, everything begins to unravel.
Senna’s writing is clever and biting, packed with dark humor and incisive commentary. The novel tackles a range of issues, from the complexities of being a “serious artist� in a market-driven, commodified world to the pressures and expectations placed upon writers of color in a culture increasingly obsessed with identity politics. Jane’s journey as an artist trying to find her place in an industry that values her background as much as, if not more than, her work, provides a nuanced critique of the entertainment industry's sometimes shallow embrace of diversity. Senna doesn’t hold back from depicting the compromises and identity conflicts that arise when artists are encouraged to package and sell their own racial or cultural backgrounds.
One of the book’s strengths is its vivid portrayal of Jane as a deeply flawed but compelling protagonist. She’s ambitious, often to a fault, and Senna skillfully depicts her messy attempts to navigate both her family life and her career. Jane’s decisions are often frustrating, making her a character who’s as exasperating as she is sympathetic. Her interactions with her husband, Lenny, who’s also an artist struggling to find meaning and success, add another layer of tension. Senna uses their marriage to explore themes of partnership, envy, and the unique pressures of being artists together, while struggling financially in a city like LA, where dreams are big and the cost of living is even bigger. Their family’s transient lifestyle, house-sitting in a luxurious home that isn’t really theirs, adds to the sense of rootlessness and yearning.
While the novel is both insightful and entertaining, there are moments where the tone feels uneven. Senna’s humor is frequently dark and edgy, at times drifting into satire so exaggerated it can verge on caricature, particularly in the scenes involving the Hollywood industry. Certain plot developments feel almost too contrived, with Jane’s life spiraling into increasingly absurd situations.
Jane’s interactions with the “hot� successful Hollywood producer highlight the challenges writers face when pressured to create work that’s not just artistically compelling but also commercially viable and socially relevant. Senna offers a cynical, yet nuanced perspective on the realities of “diverse� storytelling, questioning the industry’s motivations and the compromises that artists sometimes make to meet these demands.
Overall, Colored Television is a memorable dark comedy that offers a unique take on race, identity, and ambition within the volatile world of LA’s creative industries. While not without its flaws, Senna’s novel stands out for its wit and sharp social critique, offering readers a protagonist who is unapologetically human and whose journey highlights the absurdities and challenges of both personal and professional reinvention. Fans of incisive satire, layered character studies, and stories that interrogate contemporary culture’s fascination with diversity will find much to appreciate in this layered and occasionally uncomfortable exploration of art, race, and self-identity.
Though I didn’t find it entirely satisfying, the novel’s fresh perspective on these themes kept me engaged and reflective, making it an enjoyable yet thought-provoking read.
Follow me on medium.com to read my articles about books, movies, streaming series, astrology:
Senna’s writing is clever and biting, packed with dark humor and incisive commentary. The novel tackles a range of issues, from the complexities of being a “serious artist� in a market-driven, commodified world to the pressures and expectations placed upon writers of color in a culture increasingly obsessed with identity politics. Jane’s journey as an artist trying to find her place in an industry that values her background as much as, if not more than, her work, provides a nuanced critique of the entertainment industry's sometimes shallow embrace of diversity. Senna doesn’t hold back from depicting the compromises and identity conflicts that arise when artists are encouraged to package and sell their own racial or cultural backgrounds.
One of the book’s strengths is its vivid portrayal of Jane as a deeply flawed but compelling protagonist. She’s ambitious, often to a fault, and Senna skillfully depicts her messy attempts to navigate both her family life and her career. Jane’s decisions are often frustrating, making her a character who’s as exasperating as she is sympathetic. Her interactions with her husband, Lenny, who’s also an artist struggling to find meaning and success, add another layer of tension. Senna uses their marriage to explore themes of partnership, envy, and the unique pressures of being artists together, while struggling financially in a city like LA, where dreams are big and the cost of living is even bigger. Their family’s transient lifestyle, house-sitting in a luxurious home that isn’t really theirs, adds to the sense of rootlessness and yearning.
While the novel is both insightful and entertaining, there are moments where the tone feels uneven. Senna’s humor is frequently dark and edgy, at times drifting into satire so exaggerated it can verge on caricature, particularly in the scenes involving the Hollywood industry. Certain plot developments feel almost too contrived, with Jane’s life spiraling into increasingly absurd situations.
Jane’s interactions with the “hot� successful Hollywood producer highlight the challenges writers face when pressured to create work that’s not just artistically compelling but also commercially viable and socially relevant. Senna offers a cynical, yet nuanced perspective on the realities of “diverse� storytelling, questioning the industry’s motivations and the compromises that artists sometimes make to meet these demands.
Overall, Colored Television is a memorable dark comedy that offers a unique take on race, identity, and ambition within the volatile world of LA’s creative industries. While not without its flaws, Senna’s novel stands out for its wit and sharp social critique, offering readers a protagonist who is unapologetically human and whose journey highlights the absurdities and challenges of both personal and professional reinvention. Fans of incisive satire, layered character studies, and stories that interrogate contemporary culture’s fascination with diversity will find much to appreciate in this layered and occasionally uncomfortable exploration of art, race, and self-identity.
Though I didn’t find it entirely satisfying, the novel’s fresh perspective on these themes kept me engaged and reflective, making it an enjoyable yet thought-provoking read.
Follow me on medium.com to read my articles about books, movies, streaming series, astrology:
October 19, 2024
This is one of my new favorite novels about writing -- and writing for television. Smart and surprising and really captures the love so many novelists have for TV, and the way we believe (mistakenly!) that it's easy to transform, chameleon-like, from writing books to writing scripts. There are moments with kids that will break your heart because of their honesty, and moments with adults that will leave you smiling because of the grownups' phoniness. Also, and this matters, Danzy Senna really sticks the landing: a great ending I never saw coming, and I do this for a living!
December 20, 2024
This book balanced plot and character really well. It was funny and thought-provoking in equal measure. I haven’t read any Danzy Senna before this but I definitely want to check out more of her work. I liked what she had to say about the lies we are fed and what we choose to believe.
It’s also nice to read a litfic with a page turning pace; while Jane was sort of a train wreck and you couldn’t look away, you also couldn’t help but understand her and at least see WHY she made the choices she did.
It’s also nice to read a litfic with a page turning pace; while Jane was sort of a train wreck and you couldn’t look away, you also couldn’t help but understand her and at least see WHY she made the choices she did.
September 15, 2024
Wow, being a pick me and craving approval is a real disease! It's wild how much people’s desire to be liked, fit a certain aesthetic, or connect with people they see as superior can fuck up their lives. I wanted to shake the main character, Jane, so many times. Also, who walks around in someone else's clothes like that???? Wild! The Kanye West references were hilarious—I haven't laughed that hard in a while.
Colored Television is eccentric in the best way—painfully ordinary yet absurd. It's ordinary because Senna perfectly captures how, if given the chance, some people will try to keep up with the Joneses, much to the chagrin of those in real community around them - who know how they're living for real. Jane’s colleague, the professor living in her office, is a quiet character, but she's mad crucial to the story.
I was engaged and amused, but as the book went on, I kept thinking—yo Jane is losing it. Danzy really did that! The writing was sharp and enjoyable. She tackled so many concepts around biracial logic and biracial family dynamics that Black folks have been talking about forever. I won’t dive into it all here, but Danzy does, and she hits the nail on the head over and over. And when she introduces Jane’s father—whew, my god.
A couple of my favourite moments/quotes:
Colored Television is eccentric in the best way—painfully ordinary yet absurd. It's ordinary because Senna perfectly captures how, if given the chance, some people will try to keep up with the Joneses, much to the chagrin of those in real community around them - who know how they're living for real. Jane’s colleague, the professor living in her office, is a quiet character, but she's mad crucial to the story.
I was engaged and amused, but as the book went on, I kept thinking—yo Jane is losing it. Danzy really did that! The writing was sharp and enjoyable. She tackled so many concepts around biracial logic and biracial family dynamics that Black folks have been talking about forever. I won’t dive into it all here, but Danzy does, and she hits the nail on the head over and over. And when she introduces Jane’s father—whew, my god.
A couple of my favourite moments/quotes:
"When they got out of the car, Jane could smell the wealth. Hampton handed the keys to the valet and Jane followed him past the waiting crowd and straight inside, thinking this was one of the things she loved most about LA. It didn't care if it impressed you. It was a sleeper hit of a city. It knew it was winning. It knew it before anybody else. LA knew to act like it had been here before."- 70% in Colored Television by Danzy Senna
"A small, degraded part of her wanted him to make a move-- for the ego rush. At her age, to be sexually desired by a man who had a personal trainer and an electric Porsche, a man who was served egg-white omelets and smoothies by his beautiful assistant during meetings." - 76% in Colored Television by Danzy Senna
November 13, 2024
This book had all the ingredients to be something I’d thoroughly enjoy—a mix of Yellowface and American Fiction—but it just didn’t hit the mark for me.
As far as literary fiction goes, it is entertaining, with a plot that consistently moves forward. However, the first 30% of the book is a slow build to the “inciting incident.� Once you get there, the pace picks up, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t consider DNFing.
Jane is an incredibly flawed, often unlikeable character, so if you’re a reader who doesn’t enjoy that kind of protagonist, this might not be for you. Most of the characters are flawed in some way, which makes sense given the commentary on LA/Hollywood.
I’m not upset that I read it, but I probably wouldn’t recommend it to anyone. I’d just tell them to watch American Fiction instead.
-----
EDIT: When writing this review I mentioned that it felt like it wanted to be a version of American Fiction. I looked into the author and she is married to the man who wrote Erasure which was then adapted into American Fiction.
As far as literary fiction goes, it is entertaining, with a plot that consistently moves forward. However, the first 30% of the book is a slow build to the “inciting incident.� Once you get there, the pace picks up, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t consider DNFing.
Jane is an incredibly flawed, often unlikeable character, so if you’re a reader who doesn’t enjoy that kind of protagonist, this might not be for you. Most of the characters are flawed in some way, which makes sense given the commentary on LA/Hollywood.
I’m not upset that I read it, but I probably wouldn’t recommend it to anyone. I’d just tell them to watch American Fiction instead.
-----
EDIT: When writing this review I mentioned that it felt like it wanted to be a version of American Fiction. I looked into the author and she is married to the man who wrote Erasure which was then adapted into American Fiction.
January 7, 2025
Colored Television was one of my last and favorite reads of 2024!
Jane is a biracial writer and she, her artist husband, Lenny, and their two kids live a nomadic lifestyle, hopping houses through various sublets and rentals. Now, they’re house-sitting at a friend’s mansion in the Hollywood Hills and Jane feels they’re finally on the brink of change. She’s on sabbatical from work and at last, has time to dive into writing her second novel. �
�
Things don’t work out as Jane envisioned in her head and in an effort to salvage what they’ve been working for, Jane makes some bold leaps into new territory. �
�
Colored Television is a story about ambition, wealth, and racial identity. It offers social commentary and has domestic elements. I really liked the writing aspects in the story too. There is humor and satire, sometimes obvious and other times, more subtle. I didn’t agree with all of Jane’s choices but I still found myself rooting for her to pull it together and I couldn’t look away.
Jane is a biracial writer and she, her artist husband, Lenny, and their two kids live a nomadic lifestyle, hopping houses through various sublets and rentals. Now, they’re house-sitting at a friend’s mansion in the Hollywood Hills and Jane feels they’re finally on the brink of change. She’s on sabbatical from work and at last, has time to dive into writing her second novel. �
�
Things don’t work out as Jane envisioned in her head and in an effort to salvage what they’ve been working for, Jane makes some bold leaps into new territory. �
�
Colored Television is a story about ambition, wealth, and racial identity. It offers social commentary and has domestic elements. I really liked the writing aspects in the story too. There is humor and satire, sometimes obvious and other times, more subtle. I didn’t agree with all of Jane’s choices but I still found myself rooting for her to pull it together and I couldn’t look away.
August 22, 2024
Danzy Senna delivers again.
The title will have you thinking that this book is about Black Television, and it is, but it is also about motherhood, marriage, being an artist - specifically being a novelist in a town like LA where most people who write are writing scripts instead of books; being a novelist who isn't quite having the career she expected to have despite the time and effort put forth that you hope would result in a life lived with a little less financial struggle.
Colored Television shows us, through its artists - Jane, Lenny, Brett, Hampton Ford - how the creative industries are more "industrial" then they are creative. When it's time to tell a story the industry has a message it wants to send and an idea of who they want the messenger to be. By the time you finish Colored Television you see how much it costs & pays - mentally, spiritually, emotionally & financially - to step up and become the messenger that the powers that be expect you to be.
Although these serious messages are at work, Senna wouldn't be Senna if she wasn't funny and boy is Colored Television money. Senna is one of the few writers who would make me stop reading just so I can send a text out to some friends quoting a line from her work. There's a particular scene where Hampton Ford talks about all the mixed children and their parents at a birthday party that made me laugh really hard, to the point where I was I realized I was in public and had to make sure that I kept myself together.
I haven't decided where Colored Television ranks on my Danzy Senna Power Rankings but perhaps that's the perfect excuse to reread her work so I can rank them properly. And I just might do it.
The title will have you thinking that this book is about Black Television, and it is, but it is also about motherhood, marriage, being an artist - specifically being a novelist in a town like LA where most people who write are writing scripts instead of books; being a novelist who isn't quite having the career she expected to have despite the time and effort put forth that you hope would result in a life lived with a little less financial struggle.
Colored Television shows us, through its artists - Jane, Lenny, Brett, Hampton Ford - how the creative industries are more "industrial" then they are creative. When it's time to tell a story the industry has a message it wants to send and an idea of who they want the messenger to be. By the time you finish Colored Television you see how much it costs & pays - mentally, spiritually, emotionally & financially - to step up and become the messenger that the powers that be expect you to be.
Although these serious messages are at work, Senna wouldn't be Senna if she wasn't funny and boy is Colored Television money. Senna is one of the few writers who would make me stop reading just so I can send a text out to some friends quoting a line from her work. There's a particular scene where Hampton Ford talks about all the mixed children and their parents at a birthday party that made me laugh really hard, to the point where I was I realized I was in public and had to make sure that I kept myself together.
I haven't decided where Colored Television ranks on my Danzy Senna Power Rankings but perhaps that's the perfect excuse to reread her work so I can rank them properly. And I just might do it.
December 25, 2024
4.5
INHALEDDDDD this omg this was impossible to put down i finished it in two sittings 😭
Senna paints such a full picture in nearly 250 pages which is just always mental to me how writers can do that. i left this feeling as if i had read 500 pages (in a good way!) There’s so much covered in here, the type of looming unrest and uncertainty you have to deal with in the freelance world and how it can shape you into prey for false authorities because that type of structure and direction coming from anyone becomes addictive. How Jane, Lenny, Brett and Hampton’s different upbringings, perspectives and choices play off each other to explore racial identity, specifically being biracial, in the modern world and how it plays out in motherhood, relationships, friendships, the workplace and worldview. I've seen some people mentioning they found this sparse on the cultural commentary end but personally I think that was intentional, I wouldn't label it as sparse though, rather less "hand-holdy" about what it's exploring and I think that benefits the story.
INHALEDDDDD this omg this was impossible to put down i finished it in two sittings 😭
Senna paints such a full picture in nearly 250 pages which is just always mental to me how writers can do that. i left this feeling as if i had read 500 pages (in a good way!) There’s so much covered in here, the type of looming unrest and uncertainty you have to deal with in the freelance world and how it can shape you into prey for false authorities because that type of structure and direction coming from anyone becomes addictive. How Jane, Lenny, Brett and Hampton’s different upbringings, perspectives and choices play off each other to explore racial identity, specifically being biracial, in the modern world and how it plays out in motherhood, relationships, friendships, the workplace and worldview. I've seen some people mentioning they found this sparse on the cultural commentary end but personally I think that was intentional, I wouldn't label it as sparse though, rather less "hand-holdy" about what it's exploring and I think that benefits the story.
Read
December 19, 2024The writing in Colored Television is zippy and confident, and the story poked my brain in interesting ways.
October 28, 2024
This was a somewhat uneven reading experience for me, but in the end I am glad I read the book. There were moments of true brilliance, sometimes sustained stretches of true brilliance (the Kardashian birthday party is worth the price of admission), and that is rare and special enough to make this a book I recommend. A 3.5.
I never understand why literary types who don't want to work in film and television move to LA. It is not a town that celebrates genteel poverty, that finds charm in actual bohemians, but our protagonist, Jane, and her husband Lenny have chosen to build lives there. Jane is a writer who has been working on her second novel for a decade. It becomes a sprawling tale of the mulatto in America (mulatto is the word Jane chooses and there is a great deal of discussion in the book as to why it is the correct word.) She supports her family on the meager pay of an adjunct writing prof at an okay liberal arts college. Lenny is a painter who sells very little, in part, it is supposed by Jane and others because he won't lean into the Black. Instead, he paints abstracts that have no relation to race. To survive in LA the family becomes peripatetic. They live a year here and a year there when they find cheap options since they do not have the funds to buy a house or rent long-term in a neighborhood with good schools for their kids. The moving is starting to impact the kids and the marriage. All Jane wants is a giant house in a swanky neighborhood (which she calls "Multicultural Mayberry"), and maybe tenure. I don't want to spoil anything. I will say that Jane goes through something destabilizing and begins to lose her sense of herself and her values and things happen. The racial politics of it all is subtle and interesting. Jane herself is exhausting, shockingly naive, and rigid. Perhaps because she has spent a life mulatto masking she does not have a sense of who she really is and what she really wants and so aspires to be what she thinks people want her to be. She looks to what is reflected back by the people around her to determine what matters.
I thought parts of this were overwritten and parts underwritten. I needed so much more about her whole relationship and her dealings with Brett, the friend in whose house the family is living while Brett and family are abroad working on a project. There is drama in that relationship but it is not teed up well. The resolution of that drama is even more badly botched. (The Brett storyline maybe should be excised instead of augmented. It doesn't work as is.) We also need more backstory on why Jane falls for the machinations of the villain here. That we are dealing with a con man could not be more clear if he had a neon sign that flashed his endgame. She is feeling vulnerable and that can make a person sloppy, but she is too smart and sophisticated to have fallen for a little flattery. It was like a scene from The Music Man. I would have also liked more insight into Lenny and into Lenny and Jane's relationship. That coupling shifts around a bit, as long-term relationships do, but shifts and inconsistency are different things. It is weird how Lenny responds to some things with a preternatural calm while other things that seem less problematic upset him a great deal. I think Lenny's behaviors could make sense, but we have to know more about what is going on in Lenny's head for it to work. There are a lot of snippets that show how Jane's upbringing impacted her, but again, I needed more to fully understand her. She mentions several times how terrible it was that her mother chose the poverty of life as a poet and the emotional remove from her children because her emotions went to her work, but then Jane does the same thing to her kids. Why, if that was her driving desire to not be like her mother did she decide to be a novelist and leave the vast majority of childrearing to her husband? I am not saying that there could not be a narrative that makes that make sense, just that the narrative wasn't here. I could pull out other examples of things underwritten, but you get the idea, and it would be hard to do without spoilers. The book is pretty short, under 300 pages, so there was space to make this all work. Also, as mentioned, some things that were overwritten. If those storylines were pared there would be space to delve into the things that mattered. I think the story of their youngest child's learning disabilities was overwritten. It ended up not mattering. A one-sentence mention that the child had learning differences and that made it especially important that they live in a place with good schools would have been enough, but instead we get many many many pages about this very odd child. There is a point in the story where there is a potential legal action, and the legal advice here is wrong. (In a former incarnation I was an intellectual property lawyer so it really annoyed me.) No spoilers, but tons of evidence was overlooked and there was a pretty strong case that was ignored. More important than the error was that too much time is spent on the possibility of a legal matter and then that storyline just ends. A lot of things in the book just end and they should have been cut out or fleshed out.
As I said at the beginning, I generally enjoyed the read and recommend it, but it was also not close to the book it could have been and that is a shame. Senna is funny and deeply observant and I want more from her. Maybe next book?
I never understand why literary types who don't want to work in film and television move to LA. It is not a town that celebrates genteel poverty, that finds charm in actual bohemians, but our protagonist, Jane, and her husband Lenny have chosen to build lives there. Jane is a writer who has been working on her second novel for a decade. It becomes a sprawling tale of the mulatto in America (mulatto is the word Jane chooses and there is a great deal of discussion in the book as to why it is the correct word.) She supports her family on the meager pay of an adjunct writing prof at an okay liberal arts college. Lenny is a painter who sells very little, in part, it is supposed by Jane and others because he won't lean into the Black. Instead, he paints abstracts that have no relation to race. To survive in LA the family becomes peripatetic. They live a year here and a year there when they find cheap options since they do not have the funds to buy a house or rent long-term in a neighborhood with good schools for their kids. The moving is starting to impact the kids and the marriage. All Jane wants is a giant house in a swanky neighborhood (which she calls "Multicultural Mayberry"), and maybe tenure. I don't want to spoil anything. I will say that Jane goes through something destabilizing and begins to lose her sense of herself and her values and things happen. The racial politics of it all is subtle and interesting. Jane herself is exhausting, shockingly naive, and rigid. Perhaps because she has spent a life mulatto masking she does not have a sense of who she really is and what she really wants and so aspires to be what she thinks people want her to be. She looks to what is reflected back by the people around her to determine what matters.
I thought parts of this were overwritten and parts underwritten. I needed so much more about her whole relationship and her dealings with Brett, the friend in whose house the family is living while Brett and family are abroad working on a project. There is drama in that relationship but it is not teed up well. The resolution of that drama is even more badly botched. (The Brett storyline maybe should be excised instead of augmented. It doesn't work as is.) We also need more backstory on why Jane falls for the machinations of the villain here. That we are dealing with a con man could not be more clear if he had a neon sign that flashed his endgame. She is feeling vulnerable and that can make a person sloppy, but she is too smart and sophisticated to have fallen for a little flattery. It was like a scene from The Music Man. I would have also liked more insight into Lenny and into Lenny and Jane's relationship. That coupling shifts around a bit, as long-term relationships do, but shifts and inconsistency are different things. It is weird how Lenny responds to some things with a preternatural calm while other things that seem less problematic upset him a great deal. I think Lenny's behaviors could make sense, but we have to know more about what is going on in Lenny's head for it to work. There are a lot of snippets that show how Jane's upbringing impacted her, but again, I needed more to fully understand her. She mentions several times how terrible it was that her mother chose the poverty of life as a poet and the emotional remove from her children because her emotions went to her work, but then Jane does the same thing to her kids. Why, if that was her driving desire to not be like her mother did she decide to be a novelist and leave the vast majority of childrearing to her husband? I am not saying that there could not be a narrative that makes that make sense, just that the narrative wasn't here. I could pull out other examples of things underwritten, but you get the idea, and it would be hard to do without spoilers. The book is pretty short, under 300 pages, so there was space to make this all work. Also, as mentioned, some things that were overwritten. If those storylines were pared there would be space to delve into the things that mattered. I think the story of their youngest child's learning disabilities was overwritten. It ended up not mattering. A one-sentence mention that the child had learning differences and that made it especially important that they live in a place with good schools would have been enough, but instead we get many many many pages about this very odd child. There is a point in the story where there is a potential legal action, and the legal advice here is wrong. (In a former incarnation I was an intellectual property lawyer so it really annoyed me.) No spoilers, but tons of evidence was overlooked and there was a pretty strong case that was ignored. More important than the error was that too much time is spent on the possibility of a legal matter and then that storyline just ends. A lot of things in the book just end and they should have been cut out or fleshed out.
As I said at the beginning, I generally enjoyed the read and recommend it, but it was also not close to the book it could have been and that is a shame. Senna is funny and deeply observant and I want more from her. Maybe next book?
March 24, 2025
With the exception of her memoir, I’ve read almost all of Danzy Senna’s published work, and Colored Television feels less like a continuation of the themes underpinning her oeuvre and more like a rehash—and a boring one at that. If anything, compared to her previous novels, Colored Television comes across as tame, far less subversive, and less inventive than her usual. Senna seems almost too committed to being a provocateur, an edgelord in the vein of Bret Easton Ellis or Eliza Clark—the kind of writer who sprinkles in supposedly hot, I-can’t-believe-they-said-that moments that are actually all bark and no bite. Sure, Colored Television is frothy and silly enough to be entertaining, but it pales in comparison to Senna’s debut or even the short yet unsettling
Symptomatic
.
I also had a hard time believing this novel was set more or less in the present day. Senna’s social commentary, her pop culture references, and even the way her characters speak feel idiosyncratic—if not downright anachronistic. In her earlier books, this wasn’t an issue because they were often set in the �70s-�90s, but here, it makes a lot of scenes feel ridiculous—especially when she shoehorns in tired provocations about millennials and Gen Z or bemoans the current state of media literacy. Discussions about colorism, racial identity, and representation also suffer from this dated-ness, coming across as far more vapid and out-of-touch than Senna’s usual. Explorations of class, capitalism, academia, and the publishing world also feel fairly generic and surface level.
The main character, Jane, is a writer who, like many of Senna’s protagonists, shares a lot with the author. She’s married to Lenny, a painter who abhors the mainstream art world and is more interested in gaining recognition abroad, while Jane works as a professor (a terrible one at that—her misanthropy is on par with Sylvia Plath’s Esther). They seem to detest all things petit bourgeois, suburban mentality, and mainstream culture, and Senna makes it clear just how hypocritical they are beneath their intellectualizing. They scrape by through house-sitting, and they have two kids—one of whom may be neurodivergent, though the weight Jane places on his unspoken “diagnosis� feels oddly foreboding, especially in late 2010s America.
The novel makes it clear—repeatedly and without subtlety—that we’re not supposed to like anyone or even enjoy the reading experience. That’s in line with Senna’s previous works, but Jane’s complaints about her students� aversion to uncomfortable territories in their writing actually ignore the fact that the messy, unlikeable protagonists were already a well-established trope
Since her well-received debut, Jane has been working on her next manuscript—a sprawling saga, in classic Senna fashion, about biracial/mixed characters. When her publisher rejects it, she “borrows� an idea from a friend: a sitcom/show about a biracial family navigating every day life. She doesn’t have a real plan or vision, just sheer desperation and a sense of self-importance that makes her believe she is the right person to tell this story (even though the story in question is still a vague idea). Her impulsive lies somehow catch the attention of a big-shot producer who is never satisfied, and keeps pressing Jane to come up with plot points or characters that exemplify biracial experience in America. Meanwhile, Jane keeps her Hollywood aspirations a secret from Lenny and avoids her friend’s increasingly persistent attempts to contact her. Much of the novel consists of scenes guaranteed to cause secondhand embarrassment as Jane tries desperately to come up with ideas for a good show.
To Senna’s credit, she’s good at crafting a feverish, panicked tempo, and Jane’s misadventures in production have a certain propulsive energy. But as I said, the satire feels dated. Senna seems to think that having multiple characters repeatedly use “mulatto� or other antiquated racial terms (ones that, outside of Brazil or a James Baldwin novel, feel...sus) qualifies as boundary-pushing. Despite the novel’s focus on representation in Hollywood, it lacks the kind of topical references that would make its setting feel convincingly of our time.
More frustratingly, while Symptomatic and New People were genuinely unsettling, Colored Television feels strangely tame—despite its edgy posturing. It lacks the emotional heft of Caucasia, which manages to be unapologetic in its commentary while still deeply poignant. Here, Senna’s satire feels passé—neither as sharp nor as funny as it seems to think it is.
And to return to the idea of unlikeable, unreliable protagonists: Jane’s arc ultimately feels unearned, as though it belongs in a different kind of novel. She’s a terrible, fairly one-dimensional person, yet somehow, by the end, we’re supposed to find her relatable—flawed but ultimately sympathetic. Senna can write disturbing, maladjusted, or deeply flawed characters, so why not commit to that? Why not go there? Instead, just when the story seems to call for her to fully embrace her solipsism and instability, she suddenly finds closure. Which, would have made sense if she had been portrayed as a fully dimensional human being, rather than someone who is always unpleasant and selfish, spares others no thoughts (her husband and children included) and is in many ways on the same level of characters like Emma Bovary.
Ultimately, Colored Television is too self-aware and overestimates its own cleverness. It's satire lacks bite and feels too outdated. It has over-the-top moments that can be fun, but as a whole, it doesn’t live up to what Senna is capable of.
I also had a hard time believing this novel was set more or less in the present day. Senna’s social commentary, her pop culture references, and even the way her characters speak feel idiosyncratic—if not downright anachronistic. In her earlier books, this wasn’t an issue because they were often set in the �70s-�90s, but here, it makes a lot of scenes feel ridiculous—especially when she shoehorns in tired provocations about millennials and Gen Z or bemoans the current state of media literacy. Discussions about colorism, racial identity, and representation also suffer from this dated-ness, coming across as far more vapid and out-of-touch than Senna’s usual. Explorations of class, capitalism, academia, and the publishing world also feel fairly generic and surface level.
The main character, Jane, is a writer who, like many of Senna’s protagonists, shares a lot with the author. She’s married to Lenny, a painter who abhors the mainstream art world and is more interested in gaining recognition abroad, while Jane works as a professor (a terrible one at that—her misanthropy is on par with Sylvia Plath’s Esther). They seem to detest all things petit bourgeois, suburban mentality, and mainstream culture, and Senna makes it clear just how hypocritical they are beneath their intellectualizing. They scrape by through house-sitting, and they have two kids—one of whom may be neurodivergent, though the weight Jane places on his unspoken “diagnosis� feels oddly foreboding, especially in late 2010s America.
The novel makes it clear—repeatedly and without subtlety—that we’re not supposed to like anyone or even enjoy the reading experience. That’s in line with Senna’s previous works, but Jane’s complaints about her students� aversion to uncomfortable territories in their writing actually ignore the fact that the messy, unlikeable protagonists were already a well-established trope
Since her well-received debut, Jane has been working on her next manuscript—a sprawling saga, in classic Senna fashion, about biracial/mixed characters. When her publisher rejects it, she “borrows� an idea from a friend: a sitcom/show about a biracial family navigating every day life. She doesn’t have a real plan or vision, just sheer desperation and a sense of self-importance that makes her believe she is the right person to tell this story (even though the story in question is still a vague idea). Her impulsive lies somehow catch the attention of a big-shot producer who is never satisfied, and keeps pressing Jane to come up with plot points or characters that exemplify biracial experience in America. Meanwhile, Jane keeps her Hollywood aspirations a secret from Lenny and avoids her friend’s increasingly persistent attempts to contact her. Much of the novel consists of scenes guaranteed to cause secondhand embarrassment as Jane tries desperately to come up with ideas for a good show.
To Senna’s credit, she’s good at crafting a feverish, panicked tempo, and Jane’s misadventures in production have a certain propulsive energy. But as I said, the satire feels dated. Senna seems to think that having multiple characters repeatedly use “mulatto� or other antiquated racial terms (ones that, outside of Brazil or a James Baldwin novel, feel...sus) qualifies as boundary-pushing. Despite the novel’s focus on representation in Hollywood, it lacks the kind of topical references that would make its setting feel convincingly of our time.
More frustratingly, while Symptomatic and New People were genuinely unsettling, Colored Television feels strangely tame—despite its edgy posturing. It lacks the emotional heft of Caucasia, which manages to be unapologetic in its commentary while still deeply poignant. Here, Senna’s satire feels passé—neither as sharp nor as funny as it seems to think it is.
And to return to the idea of unlikeable, unreliable protagonists: Jane’s arc ultimately feels unearned, as though it belongs in a different kind of novel. She’s a terrible, fairly one-dimensional person, yet somehow, by the end, we’re supposed to find her relatable—flawed but ultimately sympathetic. Senna can write disturbing, maladjusted, or deeply flawed characters, so why not commit to that? Why not go there? Instead, just when the story seems to call for her to fully embrace her solipsism and instability, she suddenly finds closure. Which, would have made sense if she had been portrayed as a fully dimensional human being, rather than someone who is always unpleasant and selfish, spares others no thoughts (her husband and children included) and is in many ways on the same level of characters like Emma Bovary.
Ultimately, Colored Television is too self-aware and overestimates its own cleverness. It's satire lacks bite and feels too outdated. It has over-the-top moments that can be fun, but as a whole, it doesn’t live up to what Senna is capable of.
September 17, 2024
And easily the best part of the book. Unfortunately, I find that a novel that only manages to entertain and genuinely interest me in the last 20 pages, is not a success. I’m of the belief that a novel’s first job is to entertain and then teach so the 100s of pages before the reveal, which felt like a Black 101/mulatto mumblings for white people, were SUCH a slog.
Senna isn’t saying anything of note & neither is she saying anything of interest. Outside of the rote situation this novel presents of a middle aged woman whose life that didn’t quite meet her expectations, this book is just just numeric breakdowns of blackness & black culture sanded down and made palatable for white people, with enough bite so they feel they’re reading an ‘authentic� black/biracial voice but featuring nothing truly sharp or meaningful or real. Unsurprising, but makes for a very bland read.
In fact, her debut, which I read a month ago, was far more interesting and gripping, if a bit flat in terms of writing style. But it’s like Senna is going backwards as this book seems not only to have further embraced that lacklustre writing style, it’s somehow being even less compelling and enjoyable. In Caucasia the racial dynamics and discussions were organic and keen; here, they’re dated, mawkish & sloppy. Honestly, the entire novel seemed like more of an approximation of blackness and actual blackness, the ramblings of somebody who hadn’t grown up with black culture & had only suddenly realized their racial identity in adulthood and was now trying to make up for it by going hard to prove themself. Corny, try hard and like many ‘black� works meant for white audiences and heralded as great, obsessed with black maleness and the biracial question, while dismissing monoracial black women. She has all the time for black men, showcases their many different personalities and moods, while—like in her other books—monoracial black women are either absent or underdeveloped plot devices. Black men and the white/biracial women they love are the main subject of all her works. Time and time again, even if the lens is different, the picture is the same. black men and biracial women and how they’re both so special and brilliant and persecuted by the world. Black women who lmao. We exist as the vehicle to produce the black men she so loves and maybe elevate her own identity but otherwise?? It’s quiet for the girls. I’m also over the way Senna seems to want to transcend or outrun blackness in her works. To her, biracial blackness is like a remix of a long forgotten oldie (blackness) and blackness comes off like an affliction she’s desperate to cure. The worst of all the cancers.
But given Senna’s own background and the subject of her other works, this makes sense—non ambiguous black people don’t do all this handwringing and hyper-specific calculating; there’s nothing to contend with we just are (four black grandparents and whatnot lmao). Like I get why she’s focused on skin tones and superficial cultural markers but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. There are only so many times one can read about the colourless, tragic musings of a mulatto before the record starts wear thin. Reading her work reminds me of Kenya Barris, another soidier in the biracial battalion. Lame, done, and presented with a thread of apology and communal disdain so pulsating it makes me embarrassed for them. Of course, Barris is a blatant self hating loser who utilizes a different medium and isn’t half as talented as Senna, but the fact that her work is reminiscent of his doesn’t bode well.
Anyway.
I’d say it’s time (been time) for her to tell another story, but since everyone can do whatever they want, let me mind my black business lol. Senna’s works are for somebody, but certainly not me. This is definitely where we part ways.
October 14, 2024
This is an amazing novel! It is fun to read. It has comedy and tragedy. It is about a mixed-race female author who turns to television writing when her magnum opus is resoundingly rejected by her publisher.
Meaning the story is set in my hometown of Los Angeles where television is made.
Satirical perfection, about which I am so picky, means that big ideas come across and invade your mind though you hardly feel them doing so.
Also, the question of should you ever lie to your husband is answered.
Meaning the story is set in my hometown of Los Angeles where television is made.
Satirical perfection, about which I am so picky, means that big ideas come across and invade your mind though you hardly feel them doing so.
Also, the question of should you ever lie to your husband is answered.
September 10, 2024
I really didn’t care for this book. I found the lead character insufferable and there was a section of the book that talked about the Kardashian’s children in a derogatory manner that made me feel very uncomfortable. It’s one thing to talk about the celebrities but another to talk about their kids. It just gave me an ick.
2.2 ⭐️
2.2 ⭐️
December 22, 2024
I'm always intrigued by stories about not fitting in. And racial not fitting in is particularly interesting. I loved M. Kamau Bell's documentary about being multiracial: Growing Up Mixed where the interviewees were pretty young. I've known lots of mixed-race adult women and those who look white seem to have a kind of ferocity about identifying as Black. So I was interested, if not compelled, by the first hundred pages of Colored Television:
Danzy Senna's protagonist Jane Gibson seems equally ferocious about her Blackness, her entitlement, her racial judgments and rage about appropriation even as she wantonly appropriates without permission or remorse from other people's lives—everything from her husband to houses to wine, clothing, toys, and professional contacts. She laments her lostness and its historical roots in Melungeons (people with mixed ancestry who primarily settled in the Appalachian Mountains of the United States) in her bungled attempt to conquer the white world of success in the TV business, but she is firmly rooted—both in the writing and her perspective—in her much mentioned Gen X category: the book is filled with pop culture and brand name references (with the assumption that they are a shared vocabulary), and delivered through a perspective that is siloed in the Los Angeles definition of success through money and prestige.
But then comes chapter 9.
Jane, a mulatto married to a Black painter, has been working for ten years on an epic novel about mulattos throughout history, and her story is worth reading just for the education because it illuminates the ferocity—albeit in one particular character's experience. But in chapter 9, we enter the full human mess of being desperate to make a living, the consequences of desperation and lying, and its roots.
Plot cranks up, you understand all the seemingly slick stuff that has come before, and suddenly I was turning pages to see what happened next. And rather than mildly disliking Jane, I wanted to jump into the book and yell at her, to warn her to stop lying! So I guess I cared about her—surprise because it certainly didn't start out that way. The tension built as her whole life becomes an act, and the story ignites � for a while.
For me, this was not a funny book, not the dark comedy described in the book flap copy. I mostly felt sad for this lying woman and her family of "kids � born lazy, jaded, and ironic like us [Jane and her husband]. (240)" and addicted to "the accoutrements of a life well played. (254)"—too artsy, liberal, and Brahmin to stomach the chronic homelessness that their inability to make a living mandated.
Ultimately, this is a story of being an in-between person with questionable ethics. And even though it is very much about the mixed-race experience, I think it is about a lot of humans—even those who don't live in the plastic world of the Los Angeles TV business.
P.S. I found myself identifying mostly with Jane's husband, the painter. His patience and tolerance moved me.
***
It's now three days after finishing Colored Television. I have not read anything else in the interim because the character of Jane Gibson, or more truthfully, my severe reaction to her in the beginning of the book threw me into a funk. I was actually depressed for a couple of days.
Since I am a person who contemplates and tries to get to the personal truth about such things, I've done my process:
First of all, Jane's plot closely resembles my character Zelda McFigg's plot in my 2014 novel The Last Will & Testament of Zelda McFigg (which I am republishing as I type). Both women are driven by a craving for "success" and both do dishonest things to survive and chase the illusive prize. Zelda is a grotesque character, physically and mentally, and as I wrote her, I laughed and adored her. Yet, when I read Jane Gibson, even though her lies and appropriations were much more traditional than Zelda's, I judged her so harshly.
Why?
Because she was not hilariously funny, an alien from the work-a-day world, like my character?
No, I judged her because she is reflection of my own craving which I thought I'd purged. Apparently not. It brought to the surface all the lingering "ick" that I'd like to deny. And it made me sick and depressed.
Now that I'm admitting it, I am feeling better. Perhaps if I read the book a second time, I'd laugh more. I'm not gonna. But I am going to raise my rating to 5 stars because any book that can get under my skin as this one did deserves all the stars.
Danzy Senna's protagonist Jane Gibson seems equally ferocious about her Blackness, her entitlement, her racial judgments and rage about appropriation even as she wantonly appropriates without permission or remorse from other people's lives—everything from her husband to houses to wine, clothing, toys, and professional contacts. She laments her lostness and its historical roots in Melungeons (people with mixed ancestry who primarily settled in the Appalachian Mountains of the United States) in her bungled attempt to conquer the white world of success in the TV business, but she is firmly rooted—both in the writing and her perspective—in her much mentioned Gen X category: the book is filled with pop culture and brand name references (with the assumption that they are a shared vocabulary), and delivered through a perspective that is siloed in the Los Angeles definition of success through money and prestige.
But then comes chapter 9.
Jane, a mulatto married to a Black painter, has been working for ten years on an epic novel about mulattos throughout history, and her story is worth reading just for the education because it illuminates the ferocity—albeit in one particular character's experience. But in chapter 9, we enter the full human mess of being desperate to make a living, the consequences of desperation and lying, and its roots.
Plot cranks up, you understand all the seemingly slick stuff that has come before, and suddenly I was turning pages to see what happened next. And rather than mildly disliking Jane, I wanted to jump into the book and yell at her, to warn her to stop lying! So I guess I cared about her—surprise because it certainly didn't start out that way. The tension built as her whole life becomes an act, and the story ignites � for a while.
For me, this was not a funny book, not the dark comedy described in the book flap copy. I mostly felt sad for this lying woman and her family of "kids � born lazy, jaded, and ironic like us [Jane and her husband]. (240)" and addicted to "the accoutrements of a life well played. (254)"—too artsy, liberal, and Brahmin to stomach the chronic homelessness that their inability to make a living mandated.
Ultimately, this is a story of being an in-between person with questionable ethics. And even though it is very much about the mixed-race experience, I think it is about a lot of humans—even those who don't live in the plastic world of the Los Angeles TV business.
P.S. I found myself identifying mostly with Jane's husband, the painter. His patience and tolerance moved me.
***
It's now three days after finishing Colored Television. I have not read anything else in the interim because the character of Jane Gibson, or more truthfully, my severe reaction to her in the beginning of the book threw me into a funk. I was actually depressed for a couple of days.
Since I am a person who contemplates and tries to get to the personal truth about such things, I've done my process:
First of all, Jane's plot closely resembles my character Zelda McFigg's plot in my 2014 novel The Last Will & Testament of Zelda McFigg (which I am republishing as I type). Both women are driven by a craving for "success" and both do dishonest things to survive and chase the illusive prize. Zelda is a grotesque character, physically and mentally, and as I wrote her, I laughed and adored her. Yet, when I read Jane Gibson, even though her lies and appropriations were much more traditional than Zelda's, I judged her so harshly.
Why?
Because she was not hilariously funny, an alien from the work-a-day world, like my character?
No, I judged her because she is reflection of my own craving which I thought I'd purged. Apparently not. It brought to the surface all the lingering "ick" that I'd like to deny. And it made me sick and depressed.
Now that I'm admitting it, I am feeling better. Perhaps if I read the book a second time, I'd laugh more. I'm not gonna. But I am going to raise my rating to 5 stars because any book that can get under my skin as this one did deserves all the stars.
January 15, 2024
Enjoyed reading and thinking about this novel. It’s going to be a hit.
July 31, 2024
Senna delivers, as always!
February 8, 2025
Library loan.
I liked this book. I didn't love it. My observations regarding why I didn't love it will be quite spoilerish so please do not move ahead if you plan to read this book:
What I liked:
--The writing. It was clean and effective. There were no wasted words or dandelion-fluff-like adjectives floating across my field of vision;
--Jane's author angst about not receiving any love for the novel she worked on for 10 years. And her whines about the trials and tribulations re: the state of publishing. To say that I could relate is a massive understatement. I screen-shotted many pages and paragraphs of this book and sent to writer friends;
--Ruby and Finn were lovely interesting children;
--The many bits of beautiful storytelling, particularly when Jane revisited her past;
--I learned a lot about what it means to be biracial in this world. I appreciated this intimacy more than I could have imagined;
--The Golden Eagle apt.--I SO wish there'd been more about the people there;
--The ending was perfect (with one exception. See below).
What I did not like:
--Jane's lies and deceptions. Once that part of the story began, she lost me as a fan. In the same vein, I was rather disgusted by the manner in which Lenny and Jane took advantage of Brett's generosity. Although I was not specifically rooting for Jane, her offensive behaviors did not stop me from continuing to read/to be invested in the story. This speaks to the skill set of the author;
--Lenny's character felt too ghostly for me. I know this book was JANE'S story, but so much revolved around her marriage to Lenny and their interactions. At the end of the day, if someone asked me to describe him, I'd find myself staring off into space with my hand on my chin, muttering, "Ummmm";
--Hampton Ford's dialog felt so beyond slick it bordered on cartoonish;
--The name-dropping was exhausting;
--And, finally, I offer here the most irksome/anger-inciting element of this book--the one thing that moved the book from a 4-star to a 3-star rating: I didn't for a second believe that Jane would so easily give in/give up about Hampton STEALING her book. NO NO NO NO NO. God, no. I kept waiting for the scene of her--strong, defiant, needy Jane--forcing her way into his building, slamming past Layla and Topher and barging into Ford's office DEMANDING redemption. But, uh, no. Instead she crawled up a hill behind his house and spied on him? Head-slap.
I liked this book. I didn't love it. My observations regarding why I didn't love it will be quite spoilerish so please do not move ahead if you plan to read this book:
What I liked:
--The writing. It was clean and effective. There were no wasted words or dandelion-fluff-like adjectives floating across my field of vision;
--Jane's author angst about not receiving any love for the novel she worked on for 10 years. And her whines about the trials and tribulations re: the state of publishing. To say that I could relate is a massive understatement. I screen-shotted many pages and paragraphs of this book and sent to writer friends;
--Ruby and Finn were lovely interesting children;
--The many bits of beautiful storytelling, particularly when Jane revisited her past;
--I learned a lot about what it means to be biracial in this world. I appreciated this intimacy more than I could have imagined;
--The Golden Eagle apt.--I SO wish there'd been more about the people there;
--The ending was perfect (with one exception. See below).
What I did not like:
--Jane's lies and deceptions. Once that part of the story began, she lost me as a fan. In the same vein, I was rather disgusted by the manner in which Lenny and Jane took advantage of Brett's generosity. Although I was not specifically rooting for Jane, her offensive behaviors did not stop me from continuing to read/to be invested in the story. This speaks to the skill set of the author;
--Lenny's character felt too ghostly for me. I know this book was JANE'S story, but so much revolved around her marriage to Lenny and their interactions. At the end of the day, if someone asked me to describe him, I'd find myself staring off into space with my hand on my chin, muttering, "Ummmm";
--Hampton Ford's dialog felt so beyond slick it bordered on cartoonish;
--The name-dropping was exhausting;
--And, finally, I offer here the most irksome/anger-inciting element of this book--the one thing that moved the book from a 4-star to a 3-star rating: I didn't for a second believe that Jane would so easily give in/give up about Hampton STEALING her book. NO NO NO NO NO. God, no. I kept waiting for the scene of her--strong, defiant, needy Jane--forcing her way into his building, slamming past Layla and Topher and barging into Ford's office DEMANDING redemption. But, uh, no. Instead she crawled up a hill behind his house and spied on him? Head-slap.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 16, 2025
A fascinating read that I truly enjoyed. Wonderfully narrated by Kristen Ariza
Favorite quotes:
"She had to be adopted, Jane decided. A child carried from another land to assuage this woman's desire to experience mother love."
"When she married Lenny, Jane had the feeling that they both extended their lives."
"The point of young people's to be annoying about the truth they saw until it became evident to people like herself. Every generation must leave an impression."
"She was attempting the impossible, to write a history for a people without a race."
"She too had parents who were overeducated and underpaid. It was the worst combination. They had raised her and her sister in a ghetto of artists and poets guaranteeing that they would be alienated from rich children and poor children alike thanks to a cultural and political vocabulary that suggested class and privilege without actual class and privilege. Gauche caviar without the actual caviar."
"A conversation was like a tree. It grew in branches that flowed out from the trunk which meant you couldn't just enter a conversation talking about something random or you would break away from the tree."
"Real money was what they needed now. It would finish the story. It would give meaning to the struggle of the past ten years and money would give Lenny the time and space he needed to make his art."
"The thing about being a woman, a mother, a wife was that if you wanted to be anything more than those things you had to hire another wife. Somebody had to be the wife in a family."
"Rich women got to pay somebody else to be them. A stunt double to make it look like they were doing everything well when in fact they were doing only the fun parts."
"Money would grant her the help and the home she needed to raise her children and to do what she wanted to do which was to tell stories and age richly, that too."
"The truth was she couldn't imagine anybody else she'd rather be living with in an old folks home, which was the same as living in an apocalypse movie, only slower paced."
Favorite quotes:
"She had to be adopted, Jane decided. A child carried from another land to assuage this woman's desire to experience mother love."
"When she married Lenny, Jane had the feeling that they both extended their lives."
"The point of young people's to be annoying about the truth they saw until it became evident to people like herself. Every generation must leave an impression."
"She was attempting the impossible, to write a history for a people without a race."
"She too had parents who were overeducated and underpaid. It was the worst combination. They had raised her and her sister in a ghetto of artists and poets guaranteeing that they would be alienated from rich children and poor children alike thanks to a cultural and political vocabulary that suggested class and privilege without actual class and privilege. Gauche caviar without the actual caviar."
"A conversation was like a tree. It grew in branches that flowed out from the trunk which meant you couldn't just enter a conversation talking about something random or you would break away from the tree."
"Real money was what they needed now. It would finish the story. It would give meaning to the struggle of the past ten years and money would give Lenny the time and space he needed to make his art."
"The thing about being a woman, a mother, a wife was that if you wanted to be anything more than those things you had to hire another wife. Somebody had to be the wife in a family."
"Rich women got to pay somebody else to be them. A stunt double to make it look like they were doing everything well when in fact they were doing only the fun parts."
"Money would grant her the help and the home she needed to raise her children and to do what she wanted to do which was to tell stories and age richly, that too."
"The truth was she couldn't imagine anybody else she'd rather be living with in an old folks home, which was the same as living in an apocalypse movie, only slower paced."
Displaying 1 - 30 of 2,368 reviews
Can't find what you're looking for?
Get help and learn more about the design.