by Mateo Askaripour
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The polysemic title of Mateo Askaripour’s debut, Black Buck, is meant as an obvious wink to anyone who’s endured the absurdities of corporate culture as The Only Black Employee. Buck is the name of 22-year-old Darren Vender, or rather, the name he assumes after quitting his job at Starbucks and joining Sumwun, a trendy online startup that provides virtual therapy services. Before long, he’s a top sales associate and the envy of coworkers, but success comes at a cost. At work, Darren is Buck, our endlessly confident hero, but he’s also Buck (as in the slang term for money), Buck (as in the racial slur), and occasionally Buck (as in the linguistic sense of the word; to resist and oppose, to go against). Askaripour suggests that to engage racism in the workplace, where it can be especially noxious, one must also engage privilege and the systems of power that prop people up while holding others down. Thematically, the book is kin to Maurice Carlos Ruffin’s We Cast a Shadow and Boots Riley’s acid-trip of a film, Sorry To Bother You—dark comedies about race, exploitation, labor, and the masks Black people wear to survive “the whiteness of it all” (as a friend once eloquently put it to me). Rhapsodic and incisive, Black Buck is a journey into a post-racial dystopia born of tech-fueled greed and racial ignorance. In other words: It’s a doozy. —Jason Parham