The Noble Hustle
By Colson Whitehead
Like rednecks at a demolition derby, novelists keep showing up at the World Series of Poker. To be sure, other writers (notably James McManus) have won far more prize money playing high-stakes hold ’em, but none can match the self-deprecating charm of Colson Whitehead, a recently divorced New Yorker who figures that being “half dead inside” gives him the perfect poker face. With just six weeks to train, he juggles bus trips to Atlantic City with picking up his daughter from school. He finds something oddly reassuring about sharing tables with a hoodied “Robotron” and a grizzled “Methy Mike.” The Noble Hustle, part love letter, part dark confessional, captures perfectly the mix of neurosis and narrative that makes gambling so appealing.
This review originally appeared in our May/June 2014 issue of Mother Jones.