WE CAST A SHADOW opens with a set piece that recalls the visceral, intense opening scene of Ralph Ellison's INVISIBLE MAN, a book I'm so glad I read last year. While listening to the wonderful voice-actor Dion Graham inhabit the Black narrator in the beginning of SHADOW, describing a party held by the law firm he works for, as he vies for a promotion in a ceremony... of sorts, my mouth dropped open. Agape much in the same way I was when listening to INVISIBLE MAN, hearing that narrator vying for a scholarship to college. Ruffin evokes the classic work in many ways, and does a fascinating job of updating the satire of the nearly 70-year-old earlier novel, into a possible near-future of the United States. There's an absurdist bent to the narrative, but when taking a moment to think, realize the absurdity is to believe that this *couldn't* happen.

The narrator lives in the South, likely New Orleans, and he's the only Black man in his neighborhood. It's a world in which society has turned its back on the progress of the civil rights movement and 'demelanization' medical procedures are being used. The narrator, married to a white woman, has a son named Nigel who appears white except for a brown birthmark near his eye that the narrator fears is growing. This paranoia fuels his entire existence; he wants a promotion so that he may pay for the procedure and save his son from living life as a Black person. This book is bold and ambitious, and I was surprised to find out it was a debut. Ruffin manages to create such a sharp commentary on modern society. With the sometimes frenetic, first-person narration, the reader learns about this future state in snippets, and has to often step back from being in his head to see what's happening. It's a marvel, really. Funny and biting, depressing and caustic, this book is a worthy successor to Ellison, and that is high praise.