Colored Television v. The Extinction of Irena Rey
The 2025 Tournament of Books, presented by Field Notes, is an annual battle royale among 16 of the best novels of the previous year.
MARCH 14 • OPENING ROUND
Colored Television
v. The Extinction of Irena Rey
Judged by Alena Saunders
Alena Saunders, a writer, artist, and photographer, received her BFA in painting from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, and her MS in journalism from Columbia University, though she hasn't figured out quite how to use either of those yet. Her photography has appeared in the Chicago Tribune, the Guardian, Sixtysix, GoodTimes Santa Cruz, Literary Hub, and Fiction Writers Review. She started making and selling jackets during the pandemic because she was bored and broke, and one of the jackets ended up in an article in the New York Times. She is currently working as a bookseller at Skylight Books in Los Angeles. Known connections to this year’s contenders: “I am friends with Ben Shattuck and his wife.” / alenasaunders.com / Instagram
I usually recommend a book like this: People come into the store where I work looking for a book about this or that—say, for example, someone comes in looking for a lighthearted romp, and also the narrator is a zombie. I give them a book (or eight) for their consideration, and they look at me like: Please, kind madam, which one? Eight books? In this economy?
“Read the first few pages,” I’ll usually say, “and if you like those then you’ll like it.” It’s a bit lazy: a last refuge for someone who recommends books for a living but maybe has some sort of undiagnosed (undiscovered?) memory problem where plot goes in one ear and departs quickly out the other. Or maybe I just live vigorously in the moment. Is that Buddhism?
No, it’s not that. It’s just that I am a style snob, and can’t be bothered to care too much about plot.
People ask me, re: a book I just told them to buy, “What’s it about?” And I have to respond with all sorts of qualifiers: Um, it’s sorta like, kinda about, etc, etc. My first-few-pages theory: It’s lazy, but not deceitful, for that is also how I decide what to read. I open a book and in a few minutes it’s either still open, or it’s closed and back on a shelf. So, this was the first time in a long time that I have been beholden to start and finish two books from beginning to end, every freaking page. Uncharted territory: Oh no! Disrupting the habits that make me boring!
Of course, this makes for a much more dynamic, thought-provoking reading experience. But in having to actually articulate what I liked/disliked about the reading experience, I find myself drawing a blank. And so in considering what it is, exactly, that makes reading a splendid and worthwhile act, I have come up with an extremely personal set of criteria of what makes a book enjoyable to read.
Ahem, ahem.
Thou (I am speaking to the book here) shalt have writing that is provoking in itself, regardless of plot.
This is my number one, as stated. In The Extinction of Irena Rey, Jennifer Croft’s writing is electric, a word that blurbers like to throw around, but one that truly applies to this novel. I can tell I really like the writing because every time I try to write down what the writing is doing, or how it’s doing it, I start talking in metaphors that might be confusing to anyone who isn’t in my head. I am tempted to tell you that the way information is relayed in The Extinction of Irena Rey feels so original and unique that it reminds me of the feeling in your finger armpits when you put on a glove that fits exactly right. Instead I will show you. Consider: “We passed through an expanse of weeds that reached up to our knees. The birds at that hour were deafening, mustering the forces of the sun. Rumpled from our journeys, our clothes soaked up the dew.” I mean…
I have a lot of friends who read Colored Television by Danzy Senna and absolutely loved it, so I fear that I came to this reading experience expecting a banger. But the writing just didn’t do it for me. Don’t get me wrong: There were parts where I found the writing great, like when she is describing a rainy morning: “Late, unbidden, unpredicted, it poured down over the city in heavy streaks, sparkling like liquid silver, like something created by a machine or by the gods. She sat in traffic listening to its drumbeat on her windshield.” But those moments were just spread out enough, and the transitions between them not quite seamless enough, to notice that there were large sections that the writing, for me, fell flat.
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Thou shalt know what you are.
The Extinction of Irena Rey feels so meticulously thought out that I’d like to go back and reread it, fearing that I may have missed the author winking at me through the pages. (Is this good or bad? I don’t know, but in this instance I like it.) There are levels to this book, one being that it is “written” by a translator (our narrator) and then translated by her colleague who is also not just a main character in the story but our narrator's frenemy. But it never felt heavy, in fact, it felt the opposite: joyous, playful, serious, and alert.
My general impression of Colored Television is that it was a one-foot-in, one-foot-out satire, somehow not able to commit to the bit.
Thou shalt have some rising tension.
In the beginning, I think both novels do this well. As the books go on, Irena gets weirder and weirder which I loved. Sometimes I’d find myself, at one twist or another, going, whaaaaaaaaaaaat. But the weirdness also made it a little hard to follow at times.
Television had the opposite thing going on. It’s an impeccable setup: Jane, a novelist whose second novel (a “mulatto War and Peace” as her husband, Lenny, calls it) is rejected, turns toward Hollywood and links up with a producer to create “a comedy about a kooky but lovable mulatto family.” The tension is there because, from the get, she is lying about so many things (which I won’t spoil for you, just go read it). So: tense. But those tensions that have been building throughout the novel wither away. So it felt a little like: wait, what?
Thou shalt make me excited to read you when I am doing other things.
They both did. Though with Television it was sporadic—there were moments where I couldn’t wait to get back and moments where I could (and did). With Irena it slowly built until I just couldn’t put it down.
Thou shalt, at baseline, make a reader feel moved, or provoked, or pushed to think about some stuff, or at least have had a helluva good time.
Neither of these books tore my heart out to present it on a platter while holding up a mirror so I could face myself, etc. And, like in dating, if you aren’t going to do that, then you may as well be playful, adventurous, fun, experimental, and well written (this applies to dating as well, but try to figure out how), which Irena really was.
It was thought provoking too, but never felt like it came to any conclusions—the questions just kind of set there to stare at and ponder. The novel never felt so much like it was saying to you, but rather it felt like it was a song from a songbird flying from branch to branch, if that makes any sense. It felt light, uncatchable, unpredictable, like it might suddenly take flight.
That being said, I’m having a hard time comparing these novels, not because it’s ImPoSibLe to cOmPaRe ArT but because I respect immensely the profession of writing, and respect also how hard it is to write anything, let alone a whole book. (And because one time I tried to write a novel I had a nervous breakdown and had to go on Wellbutrin.)
So I could, to delay having to actually judge, just go on and on about these two books, but you have things to do. I have things to do. Who will pace around the house muttering/singing about chores that have to be done? Who will stand and stare out the window occasionally saying out loud things like: “Can you believe that cloud?” Who if not I? No one, that’s who. The time has come, and I am very happy to advance The Extinction of Irena Rey to the next round.
Advancing:
The Extinction of Irena Rey
Match Commentary
with Meave Gallagher and Alana Mohamed
Alana Mohamed: Hello, Meave! We’re back at it again.
Meave Gallagher: We are! And to stave off any criticism of us (never!), I’ll give the Commentariat a peek behind the scenes: Alana and I received the quarterfinal judgment that includes The Extinction of Irena Rey before getting this one, so you’ll have to wait a few days before we give the forest its due. Don’t fret.
Alana: There’s much to discuss about Colored Television. While Judge Saunders says she found it difficult to explain why one book might take the win over the other, I found her criteria quite helpful. I always think it’s interesting to see judges talk about craft elements and then, separately, how a book made them feel. For something like, “Thou shalt make me excited to read you when I am doing other things,” I wonder how much of that might be related to rising action or character development.
Meave: I’ll say, having listened to Colored Television, it was a fine book to do chores to.
Alana: In general, I think I agree with Judge Saunders’s decision, but I wish she would have spent some more time on what she thought Colored Television was doing and how well it was executed. For example, I would have loved to hear more on a line like: “My general impression of Colored Television is that it was a one-foot-in, one-foot-out satire, somehow not able to commit to the bit.” What did you think?
Meave: Yeah—that was one of the more interesting critiques in the judgment. But considering Judge Saunders is a habitual abandoner of books that displease her after the first few pages, maybe she hasn’t had as much practice articulating her displeasures with an entire novel?
Colored Television stressed me out because people who make up elaborate lies, and people who make choices they know will hurt people they love exist in literature much more often than in reality, right? That’s hard for me to respect. This is the kind of story that makes me think, How do people’s marriages get like this? It’s the kind of novel that makes me seek out my husband, recite the plot to him as a personal hypothetical, and demand he tell me how he’d react in such a situation. That was maybe the only thing I talked to my husband about Colored Television.
Alana: One might call this a success of the novel! (I hope his answers were satisfactory.)
Meave: Author Senna does love to put her mulatto women into difficulty with dissatisfaction with their relationships and ever more deranged behavior. Though the source of “write what you know” is lost to time—no proof of the Twain attribution!—so it could be an Iowa Writers’ Workshop diktat to fight Communism and promote the Great American Novel (and sell Khrushchev corn) on the CIA’s dime. But even though it was written by a translator, it seemed like Irena Rey’s translators had more freedom to lose their minds than Colored Television’s Jane—she couldn’t write herself out of the associate professor box, so she jumped into the TV development box, with increasingly less freedom and more lies.
Alana: The Extinction of Irena Rey gets “weirder and weirder,” while in Colored Television “tensions that have been building throughout the novel wither away.” Colored Television, like most of Senna’s work, always zagged when I thought it would zig. It’s so compact for all the chaos of its setup (which, I cannot stress, is So Many Lies) that it’s kind of impressive that there’s still room for surprise in the novel.
Meave: SO MANY LIES. It hurt my stomach so much, when all the liars—known and suspected—started getting caught, it was a relief. The only character who surprised me was Lenny, who didn’t seem to change at all.
Alana: Yeah, I kept waiting for him to be revealed, but I guess the sweetest thing about him is his constantness. I do see how the end of Colored Television can kind of be a letdown, or seem like a betrayal of the premise.
Meave: The only character who was forced to accept crushing defeat was Jane! Everyone else just sort of got on with things, whether they were liars or manipulators, or dependable old Lenny.
Alana: I think a couple of the characters are living in their own private hells but it’s true Jane—so hungry for success!—seems to get slapped down worst of all. I’m sure Hampton Ford has some sort of sob story he’s telling himself about Jane, though. Colored Television starts off having a lot to say about a rich combination of topics—including the commodification of the experiences of people of color, the place of Black biracial people in an America of shifting demographics, and what this means for biracial artists trying to survive—and even though there is some see-through of these themes, it also seems to abandon its satire by the end.
Meave: By the end it becomes wish fulfillment—not what any of the characters wanted for themselves, exactly, but a compromise that makes everyone happy, the end. I did like the interstitial citations of the “Colored People Scholar” who drones on and on about the “tragic mulatto” before it became an entire genre, and how frustrated Jane gets at hearing his voice in her head. That was pretty funny, if bleak, which I assume based on Senna’s prior works, is her sweet spot.
Alana: Ha, reminds me of Hampton constantly repeating, “She’s funny!” about Jane. Senna’s humor is quite bleak. It seemed easier for Judge Saunders to say what she liked about The Extinction of Irena Rey.
On the level of language, it worked for her, the world seemed more fully realized, and “it felt light, uncatchable, unpredictable, like it might suddenly take flight.” I can agree that these are things the book did well, and while I think some of these things also apply to Colored Television, I’m happy for The Extinction of Irena Rey to take the win.
Meave: Well, with the judge’s habit to discard the books whose first few pages don’t grab her—and with Colored Television, “large sections that the writing, for me, fell flat”—then it might’ve been more difficult to find positive attributes in the less-loved book. I’m excited to talk Irena Rey in the quarterfinals, though!
With that, we’re tagging John and Kevin back in for Monday’s matchup of Liars and The Book of George, judged by Internet Guy Max Read. Having realized I didn’t have to read The Book of George, I skipped it, so how it compares to Le Mariage de la raison et de la misère noir II will be a “fun” surprise. Ciao till Tuesday!
Today’s mascot
Nominated by Orla, Smudge is a rescued cow cat who is almost five years old. He is dapper, chunky, grumpy, prone to dramatics, and (mostly) appreciative of books. You can tell when he likes a book because he will nuzzle it, and nap beside it to keep it safe.
He enjoys kibble, playing fetch, and interrupting Zoom calls by politely tap-tapping the treat dispenser’s human’s shoulder.
Smudge is insistent that The Book of George should really be The Book of Smudge, but that’s only because he hasn’t read it. No one tell him how annoying George is please, it’d break his heart.
Some of you may remember his late brother Amos, the wannabe librarian cat who was a ToB mascot two years ago.
Bonus pic is of Smudge and his newly-ish adopted sister Kaliyo. She shreds books (the horror!) and so could never be a mascot but they love her anyway.
If you’re interested in nominating a pet as a mascot for this year’s Tournament of Books, contact us for more details. (Please note, this is a paid program.)