When the topic of slavery and reparations arises, white conservatives get defensive and make ludicrous statements, like: "southern slaveholders treated their slaves well--it was expensive to damage or lose a slave" or "floggings were rare and the exception, not the rule" or "it was the normal thing to do in those days; after all, freed blacks owned slaves, too."

In response to this bullshit comes Edward P. Jones' novel "The Known World." Focusing on the history of Manchester County, Virginia, just before the Civil War, Jones uses a wide cast of characters to show both the physical and psychological effects of slavery on both the black and white population of the county.

The main characters are the Townsend family: Augustus, who uses his woodworking skills buys his own freedom and the freedom of his wife and son, Mildred and Henry. As free blacks "with papers," they decide not to move north, but to settle in Manchester County. When Henry, a shoemaker, buys his first piece of land, Augustus and Mildred are proud of him. But then Henry buys his first slave, and everything changes.

Jones' style is spare; he masterfully depicts the conflict and stratification within the black community--between the owned and the owner, between the slave and the semi-free, between the educated and the illiterate--through the actions of his characters, the choices they make, and how that precipitates a crisis on the Townsend plantation and in Manchester County. He makes a fine contrast between, for example, Fern Elston, the schoolteacher who could pass for white but chooses not to, yet is oblivious to her light-skinned privilege, and Alice, a half-crazed slave on the Townsend plantation, who happens to know a lot more about what goes on at night in Manchester County than anyone suspects.

At the core of the crisis is Moses, Henry Townsend's first slave and his plantation overseer. When Henry dies, Moses naturally begins to ask himself "if Henry could do this, then why can't I?" and he begins a slow campaign to get his hands on Henry's widow.

Jones also turns his critical eye on the white population of the county and coolly depicts its hypocrisy and paternalism. From Sheriff John Skiffington, a "Man of God," who vows not to have anything to do with slavery yet accepts the gift of a slave girl on his wedding day, to William Robbins, the largest slave-owner in the county, who views his own slaves as cattle yet worries about the future of his two black, illegitimate children, Jones covers the broad field of white guilt and racism.

And to answer those folks who say "many slaves were treated well--like members of the family," Jones portrays the relationship between Skiffington's wife and their "wedding gift," a young black girl named Minerva. Mrs. Skiffington is heartbroken when Minerva runs away; after all, she loved her like a daughter. But she doesn't realize that she treated Minerva more like a trained puppy than a human being.

"The Known World" so vastly outshines most modern novels--in both style and theme--that it deserves to become an instant classic. Hopefully, it will inspire more young novelists to write Great American Novels that step outside the boundaries of the white-dominated literary cannon. Very Highly Recommended.

Let's shift gears now, from the very serious to the very comical. Nicholson Baker's slim little novel "Checkpoint" is a cathartic read. In the form of a audio transcript of two men in a hotel--one who wants to kill the President, and his old friend from high school who wants to dissuade him--Baker captures both the dynamics of male buddy-talk and the heated complaints of Bush-haters. From the moment Jay says "I think we have to lance the fucking boil," we know we're in for a funny, disturbing, and wickedly wish-fulfilling ride.

Baker uses the next 100-plus pages to excoriate Bush in all of our favorite ways, from his obvious stupidity to his resurrection of old Reagen and Nixon-era dinosaurs. Jay tells his friend Ben: "It's as if these rusted hulks, these zombies, have fought their way back up out of the peat bogs where they've been lying, and they're stumbling around with grubs scurrying in and out of their noses and they're going 'We--are--your--advisers.'"

Jay and Ben are clear archetypes of the Left. Ben is the family man with a job in academia and a concern for politics, who fits very comfortably into the peaceful, nonviolent Left. Jay, on the other hand, lives on the edge: he was a troublemaker in school, has worked a string of manual labor jobs, reads way too much news on the Internet, and can argue the fine points of every issue the Left holds dear and quite a few conspiracy theories, too (Jay even throws in a condemnation of modern art, ala Lyndon LaRouche). Except for abortion, which Jay (quite believably for a working class white guy) opposes, much to Ben's deep discomfort.

Jay is clearly representative of how most reasonable folks feel about George W. Bush, his usurpation of power, and the horrifying war in Iraq, but Jay takes it a step further, arguing that, to give his life meaning, he has to act on his feelings and that means killing Bush. Ben, on the other hand, represents the calmer side of one's personality, the conscience that stops us from doing stupid, self-destructive things. (The Ego and the Superego, for all you Freudians out there.) In their push-and-pull dialogue, it appears that Jay is gradually winning Ben over to his side, but Ben eventually prevails--notably by abandoning his nonviolent principles.

How can Baker make this fly without encountering censorship and getting his ass thrown into Guantanamo? Partly it's because no one in the Bush administration knows how to read. And that's a good thing, because if they did, this book would never see the light of day.

Note: you should be able to find "Checkpoint" in a local, independent bookstore. If, however, you're forced to go looking for it in a chain bookstore, don't expect to see it on prominent display with other new releases. The combination of its content and the ugliest cover art I've ever seen means you'll have to search for it on the shelves under "Baker." It's worth the hunt.