We Cast a Shadow

The biracial son of Penny and the narrator, Nigel has an olive complexion and slowly spreading dark birthmarks all over his body—and the character’s outward appearance is as significant as his actions. The birthmarks become one of the novel’s central images as the narrator’s inner disposition and character are exposed most radically, and with greatest consequence, through his response to his son’s complexion. The author’s careful diction suggests Nigel’s symbolic weight for the narrator, who often refers to these dark spots simply as “marks.” The word has fatalistic connotations, as “marked”—particularly through literary history—sometimes means “targeted,” “destined,” or “cursed.”

The narrator does treat these marks as a curse. The dramatic situation alludes to the biblical mark, and curse, of Cain, whose mythic figure emphasizes humankind’s exile from Eden. When Cain kills his brother Abel, the blood spills to the ground and brings a curse on the earth. God then “set a mark upon Cain” (KJV, Genesis 4:15). The idea of the “mark of Cain” appears famously in the history of American racism: Historically, multiple religious groups have appealed to divine authority—that is, their own contorted exegeses of Cain’s curse—to justify both slavery and segregation. The narrator considers his son’s skin, saying it is “as if a shard of myself were emerging from him” (18). The simile reveals the narrator’s vision of himself as a curse and his son as the accursed.

Initially, the bright, sweet-tempered young Nigel complies with his father’s cosmetic regimen, but as he grows up, he questions and rebels against the increasing stringency. Nigel asserts his selfhood just as his father tries to erase it. Nigel continually reclaims his dignity and identity as the novel progresses and the character’s physical distance from his father mirrors his psychological liberation. He finds friends of color who affirm him. He joins a radical organization that, while terroristic, at least affirms his humanity and Blackness—an environment far preferable to his father’s degrading tyranny. He flees his father and joins a remote commune, marrying a woman of color with whom he has a daughter.

Despite his father’s domineering evangelism of white salvation, Nigel disentangles himself from the indoctrination and embraces truth. His magnanimity and autonomy are foil to the narrator, who over-embraces his own father’s (later recanted) advice that a Black person ought to be strategically submissive amidst whiteness.

Penny is the narrator’s white wife. A former activist, she severed ties with her racist family to marry the narrator. She and the narrator share a keen intelligence, and both of them are ardently steadfast in their respective convictions. In many ways, however, Penny contrasts with the narrator, and these differences are not complementary. She is outspoken against injustice in all its forms, a trait that often clashes with the narrator’s wish to fly under the radar. Regarding the effects of racism on their biracial son, and regarding how to best preserve his welfare, Penny prefers to guard Nigel—psychologically and bodily—and challenge the corrupt environment. Inversely, the narrator is bent on changing his son to suit the system. Their son’s plight is a litmus test for their political visions as well as their marital compatibility.

The full nature of Penny’s moral integrity is equivocal; it may be based in a core orientation toward hope and dignity, or it may be based partly in a privileged, naïve idealism unscathed by the racism the narrator has endured his whole life. Penny does, however, have analogical insight into her son’s social adversity. As a woman, she has the experience of navigating a misogynistic world disproportionately predatory and degrading toward her—a fact that the narrator, in a moment of archetypal hubris, disregards in his assertion that she, as a white woman, cannot understand “the basics of walking through life as prey” (198).

The marital conflict proves inoperable. When Penny finds the narrator’s diary, including details planning demelanization, she demands a divorce. Earthly departure immediately follows her marital departure, as she is fatally struck by a City Police van—but Penny’s death is not absolute. On the contrary, she finds new and fearfully persuasive life through the narrator’s unconscious, haunting him everywhere he goes. She once appears to him as a ghostly, drug-induced vision to tell him that he is worsening Nigel’s life. While Penny stands for the truthful element in the narrator’s unconscious, the hallucination is also an omen, as though her immortal soul brings a warning from beyond.

Araminta “Minty” Ahosi is first introduced as the classmate who made fun of Nigel for applying bleaching cream. In retrospect, the little girl’s mocking is evidently, if indirectly, a callow affirmation of Nigel’s Blackness; the true target of her derision is the bleaching cream itself. The character bookends Nigel’s journey of liberation. With her childish ridicule, she introduces a vital friction between Nigel and his father—and, as she and Nigel age, Araminta is a key source of sustenance for Nigel’s self-discovery. The two of them eventually marry, symbolizing Nigel’s realized self-love.

Given Araminta’s role in Nigel’s life—fostering his healthy rebellion—she and the narrator naturally have an instantly antagonistic relationship that is fueled at least in part by the narrator’s dislike of her dark skin. Because the narrator has never condoned the relationship—even when Nigel and Araminta were young school friends—Araminta symbolizes, to the narrator, Nigel’s embrace of his own Blackness as well as his independence.

Araminta is sharp and outspoken about her values. She helps Nigel recognize his father’s veiled abuse and encourages Nigel’s autonomy. Despite her anger at the narrator’s choices, she displays empathy and a nuanced interpersonal vision, showing him kindness when he comes, uninvited, to visit them at New Rosewood. She understands his deep brokenness while recognizing his harmful behavior. In his closing paragraphs to Nigel, the narrator finally acknowledges that Araminta is “a shining soul” (320).

The narrator’s father is a former indentured servant serving a life sentence in prison by the time the novel starts. When the narrator was a child, Sir tried to teach him to walk the line between self-respect and self-preservation, instilling pride in his Blackness while reminding him of the advisability of respecting even those who don’t deserve respect. However, when an officer pushes Ma to the ground, Sir lunges at him and is convicted of the attempted murder of a peace officer.

Despite Sir’s rationale for his action—an act of defense that many would not only understand but applaud—the narrator is furious with his father for going against his own advice to maintain deference in a deciding moment, which led to him being taken away from his family. The narrator parlays his grief into anger and is resolved to never make the same mistakes as Sir, leading to his attitude of extreme deference. While in prison, Sir undergoes an unspecified traumatic experience and becomes catatonic, unable to recognize the narrator when he finally returns for his first visit in decades. The narrator mourns having lost his father twice. Sir is a tragic figure whose actions, equal parts noble and compelled, earn him gratuitous punishment: life imprisonment, familial alienation, and incapacitating traumatic dissociation. The loss encompasses a totality of human experience: world, community, and self.