Book 2 of Native Son is an inverted mystery novel, a backwards whodunit: the reader knows Bigger killed Mary Dalton, and the narrative proceeds through his eyes, watching the rest of the characters try and figure out the killer. This inverted version of the classic mystery novel still contains many of the features inherent to the genre. One of these is a red herring: a plot element or physical object that the reader concludes is important to the mystery but in fact is only a misdirection. A red herring is a type of book-length situational irony: the author builds an expectation in the reader only to subvert it.
The red herring in Book 2 is Mary's purse. Wright's narrative makes it seem all but inevitable that the purse is going to be the thing that gets Bigger found out. Wright includes Bigger's indecision after killing Mary about whether to take her purse and the money inside it. The morning after the murder, Bigger feverishly tries to cover up the evidence that he killed Mary, and his primary focus is the purse, which he brought home with him to his family's house. He panics when he realizes he left it visible in the house with his family. And he makes a point to bury it under trash in the can. But even this seems like rather sloppy work from Bigger. It seems certain: the purse would eventually be found in the trash, and Bigger would be convicted easily.
But for all the fuss that the purse causes, and all the pages that Wright dedicates to Bigger's attempts to ditch it, the purse is entirely unimportant to discovering Bigger as the murderer or in the prosecution of his case. Instead, Mary is eventually identified by her earring buried in the ash in the furnace. A great number of Mary's other personal items are used in court. But the purse is only ever mentioned offhandedly in Book 3 in the bickering between Max and Buckley over the insanity defense after the plea deal: "Buckley brought forth the knife and purse Bigger had hidden in the garbage pail and confirmed the court that the city's dump had been combed for four days to find them." The purse, which once seemed (at least to Bigger) to be a crucially incriminating piece of evidence, turns out to be of no interest to the case.
Part of the appeal of mystery stories of any type is that the mystery should be difficult to solve, so that the reader can struggle enjoyably in trying to figure it out. This is still the case in Book 2, but the reader instead tries to determine how Bigger will eventually be found out as Mary's murderer. Red herrings increase the difficulty of a mystery by leading the reader astray with evidence that only seems important. Wright makes Book 2 more enjoyable as a mystery story to the reader, then, through the apparently unimportant purse, which he positions as crucial to the plot and then—in an instance of situational irony—dismisses entirely.
Jan and Mary, for all indications, earnestly want to get to know Bigger, genuinely respect him, and mean him no direct harm. And yet, in an instance of situational irony, the way Jan speaks to Bigger directly undermines his otherwise friendly and egalitarian feelings toward Bigger. The Communist Party, especially in the 1930s and 1940s, were some of the most energetic anti-racists in America. (Richard Wright, for one, was a member of the Communist Party beginning in 1933; he broke with the party in 1941 after the party aligned with Stalinists after the outbreak of World War II.) Jan and Mary, to the best of their abilities, want to help Bigger.
But Jan, for all his good will, does not do a good job of making Bigger feel safe or welcome. In the conversation in the car between Bigger, Jan, and Mary, Bigger calls Jan "sir" repeatedly. Bigger calls all white men "sir" or refers to them using "Mr." (Bigger is extremely consistent in this throughout all his struggles; the only time that he calls any white man by his first name is at the very end of the book, when, just before he is to be sent to the electric chair, he asks Mr. Max, "Tell ... Tell Mister ... Tell Jan hello ... .") Jan does not take to this treatment: he is a communist who does not believe in class, so he does not think Bigger should be using terms like "sir" for him. But the way Jan tells this to Bigger is tactless:
"First of all," Jan continued, putting his foot upon the running-board, "don't say sir to me. I'll call you Bigger and you'll call me Jan. That's the way it'll be between us. How's that?"
Jan, even though he is attempting to be on equal terms with Bigger, still takes total control of the conversation. He invades Bigger's space, "putting his foot upon the running-board." Jan, posing like an explorer conquering foreign territory, steps on the one modicum of power that Bigger has in this situation: that he has been trusted to drive the car. By stepping on the running-board, Jan asserts his control over the whole situation. Jan also lays out the situation in commands to Bigger. He tells Bigger, "don't say sir to me." In attempting to tell Bigger that they are equals, Jan gives Bigger an unqualified order, which only reasserts that Jan and Bigger are not equals. Jan, again, certainly means to be kind here. But Bigger has only ever known white men to give him orders, never to attempt to be his friend. And Jan, in attempting to be kind to a Black man, reverts to the old racist structure of control and command.
Bigger is frustrated, confused, and furious about this development. He thinks that Jan and Mary are trying to trick him and make fun of him. Bigger thinks that life is a game that white people win and that he loses. He simply cannot imagine a white person being kind to him. Everything turns upside down for him: "He felt he had no physical existence at all just then." Bigger's frustration is a symptom of situational irony. Jan wants to be Bigger's friend, and yet in attempting to be kind to him, he instead confirms the fact that they are not equals—an ironic reversal. Jan, leaning on the car, ironically disrupts Bigger's worldview.
Mr. Dalton, a wealthy Chicago real-estate mogul, earnestly and proudly believes that he is a friend of the Black community. He is a regular donator to the NAACP. He tells this to Bigger, but Bigger doesn't know what he's talking about:
"I want you to know why I'm hiring you."
"Yessuh."
"You see, Bigger, I'm a supporter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. Did you ever hear of that organization?"
"Nawsuh."
"Well, it doesn't matter," said Mr. Dalton. "Have you had your dinner?"
That Mr. Dalton says "it doesn't matter" is indicative of his real position: charity actually doesn't matter to Mr. Dalton. While Mr. Dalton feels that he supports the Black community in Chicago, in fact his charity is largely ineffective and only serves to support his ego. In fact, Mr. Dalton's work actively harms the Black community through his unfair real estate practices. As such, this is an example of situational irony: while Mr. Dalton says he helps Black people, he actually hurts them.
This irony is revealed when Mr. Dalton's business dealings are clarified in Book 3. When the Daltons visit Bigger in his cell, Mr. Dalton and Max argue over what the former feels is a helpful donation:
"Why, only today I sent a dozen ping-pong tables to the South Side Boys' Club ..."
"Mr. Dalton!" Max exclaimed, coming forward suddenly. "My God, man! Will ping-pong keep men from murdering? Can't you see? Even after losing your daughter, you're going to keep going in the same direction? Don't you grant as much life-feeling to other men as you have? Could ping-pong have kept you from making your millions? This boy and millions like him want a meaningful life, not ping-pong ..."
Mr. Dalton proceeds to defend himself, claiming that it is not his responsibility to save all Black people from poverty and that the state of the world is not his fault. This is a rather distasteful stance, but many well-meaning wealthy men make charitable donations with little strong feeling behind them—the ping-pong tables do not represent a situational irony on their own. But when Max cross-examines Mr. Dalton, whom Buckley called as a witness for the prosecution, the reader learns of a deeper level of irony. Mr. Dalton's company is actively hurting Black communities, including Bigger and his family. Max's question reveals the problem:
"Now, Mr. Dalton, it has been said that you donate millions of dollars to educate Negroes. Why is it that you exact an exorbitant rent of eight dollars per week from the Thomas family for one unventilated, rat-infested room in which four people eat and sleep?"
Herein lies the irony: while Mr. Dalton claims to help Black people, his South Side Real Estate Company charges Black families more for the same houses rented to white families. He will only rent to Black families in certain parts of the city, because of "old custom." The Thomas family lives in Dalton's housing, and, according to Max, Bigger's personality—his neurotic fear of white people, his need for action—was caused in no small part by his poor housing situation. Mr. Dalton's charity, thus, is situationally ironic: he thinks he is helping Bigger and the Black community through his hiring practices and his charity. But in reality, he only gives them ping-pong tables and rat-infested housing.
Bigger, with the police closing in on him late in Book 2, hides on the roof of a nondescript, abandoned building on 53rd Street. Squatting on the roof in the snow, legs going numb, Bigger's eyes are drawn "directly below him, one floor away, through a window without shades." He sees a familiar scene taking place:
There were quick, jerky movements on the bed where the man and woman lay, and the three children were watching. It was familiar; he had seen things like that when he was a little boy sleeping five in a room. Many mornings he had awakened and watched his father and mother. [Bigger] turned away, thinking: Five of 'em sleeping in one room and here's a great big empty building with just me in it.
Bigger remembers himself experiencing what he sees through the window: when a whole family is confined to a room, sometimes the parents have sex while the children are there. Even if this moment is rather vulgar, it is still an ironic situation that is important to the novel.
Bigger understands one level of the irony himself. These people are packed into one room, but Bigger is currently sitting atop a whole abandoned building, currently all to himself—a building where the family could live. He begins to realize a problem that will become essential to Max's court argument in Bigger's defense in Book 3: that segregated and inadequate housing is a fundamental cause of the position of Black people in society and that white property owners—like those who own all the buildings on 53rd Street and all around the Black Belt—are to blame.
Bigger doesn't, though, notice another level of the irony. Bigger still has no idea what Communism is or what a communist is, and he spends much energy and strife to prove he isn't a communist to Mr. Dalton and various investigators. But now, all of a sudden, he comes to a rather communist (or at least socialist) idea: that people have a right to housing and that good housing should be redistributed to people. The fact that "there's a great big empty building with just me in it" and that that building should be given to those who need it is perhaps Bigger's only strong political stance in the novel, and it seems to come straight from his heart. And yet, it aligns with communist ideology. That this idea comes so easily to Bigger is perhaps Wright's attempt—as a long time member of the Communist Party himself—to show that there is simple moral logic to communism.
In Book 3, Max, a communist public defender, and Buckley, the state's attorney, argue with each other inside Bigger's prison cell. Buckley, with hideous vitriol, doesn't understand why Max would want to defend such a person: "What in hell you Reds get out of bothering with a black thing like that, God only knows." But when Buckley is trying to speak with conviction to Max, he slips into an ironic contradiction that undercuts his whole argument:
Listen, Max. You're wasting your time. You'll never get this boy off in a million years. Nobody can commit a crime against a family like the Daltons and sneak out of it. Those poor old parents are going to be in that court room to see that this boy burns! This boy killed the only thing they had.
In this brief paragraph, Buckley says two conflicting statements that show an important problem. The first statement: "Nobody can commit a crime against a family like the Daltons and sneak out of it." What Buckley means by "a family like the Dalton's" is a wealthy family. The Daltons have virtually unlimited resources: they hire multiple private detectives for their case, and the reader can assume that they have spent just as much on a legal team. In other words, the reason no one can get away with a crime against the Daltons is because they have a lot of money. But then, Buckley's second statement contradicts this idea: "This boy killed the only thing they had." First, Buckley says that the Daltons have everything, and now he says they have nothing. Wright italicizes "only," emphasizing the ironic contradiction.
There is a simple way to interpret this irony. Money cannot buy happiness, and when the Daltons lost their daughter, they felt like they lost everything. But also, importantly, Buckley's second statement characterizes Mary as a "thing they had." This is an accurate depiction of the relationship between Mary and her parents. Little if any affection is ever shown between them before her death. After Mary died, her parents acted as if a precious possession of theirs was stolen rather than as if a life had been lost. Bigger and Jan are the only characters in the novel that show any real care for Mary; and Bigger did seem to care for her health and happiness, even if he was self-motivated. So there is a deeper irony to Buckley's statement: the Daltons had Mary, but it is unclear whether they loved her.
Mr. Dalton, a wealthy Chicago real-estate mogul, earnestly and proudly believes that he is a friend of the Black community. He is a regular donator to the NAACP. He tells this to Bigger, but Bigger doesn't know what he's talking about:
"I want you to know why I'm hiring you."
"Yessuh."
"You see, Bigger, I'm a supporter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. Did you ever hear of that organization?"
"Nawsuh."
"Well, it doesn't matter," said Mr. Dalton. "Have you had your dinner?"
That Mr. Dalton says "it doesn't matter" is indicative of his real position: charity actually doesn't matter to Mr. Dalton. While Mr. Dalton feels that he supports the Black community in Chicago, in fact his charity is largely ineffective and only serves to support his ego. In fact, Mr. Dalton's work actively harms the Black community through his unfair real estate practices. As such, this is an example of situational irony: while Mr. Dalton says he helps Black people, he actually hurts them.
This irony is revealed when Mr. Dalton's business dealings are clarified in Book 3. When the Daltons visit Bigger in his cell, Mr. Dalton and Max argue over what the former feels is a helpful donation:
"Why, only today I sent a dozen ping-pong tables to the South Side Boys' Club ..."
"Mr. Dalton!" Max exclaimed, coming forward suddenly. "My God, man! Will ping-pong keep men from murdering? Can't you see? Even after losing your daughter, you're going to keep going in the same direction? Don't you grant as much life-feeling to other men as you have? Could ping-pong have kept you from making your millions? This boy and millions like him want a meaningful life, not ping-pong ..."
Mr. Dalton proceeds to defend himself, claiming that it is not his responsibility to save all Black people from poverty and that the state of the world is not his fault. This is a rather distasteful stance, but many well-meaning wealthy men make charitable donations with little strong feeling behind them—the ping-pong tables do not represent a situational irony on their own. But when Max cross-examines Mr. Dalton, whom Buckley called as a witness for the prosecution, the reader learns of a deeper level of irony. Mr. Dalton's company is actively hurting Black communities, including Bigger and his family. Max's question reveals the problem:
"Now, Mr. Dalton, it has been said that you donate millions of dollars to educate Negroes. Why is it that you exact an exorbitant rent of eight dollars per week from the Thomas family for one unventilated, rat-infested room in which four people eat and sleep?"
Herein lies the irony: while Mr. Dalton claims to help Black people, his South Side Real Estate Company charges Black families more for the same houses rented to white families. He will only rent to Black families in certain parts of the city, because of "old custom." The Thomas family lives in Dalton's housing, and, according to Max, Bigger's personality—his neurotic fear of white people, his need for action—was caused in no small part by his poor housing situation. Mr. Dalton's charity, thus, is situationally ironic: he thinks he is helping Bigger and the Black community through his hiring practices and his charity. But in reality, he only gives them ping-pong tables and rat-infested housing.