Clock Without Hands, a novel by Carson McCullers (1917–1967) brings to life southern attitudes toward racial segregation during the civil-rights-era. The story takes place in a small Georgia town, 1953. Throughout the novel Black people are referred to as Negro, Negra or even the “n” word. Although jarring, it’s a sign of the times, and in context I found it acceptable.

Pharmacist J. T. Malone, 40, diagnosed with leukemia, is given a year to live. He’s a fair man, well-liked by the community. Now that he knows his life is measured, he has regrets over opportunities wasted. One of Malone’s best friends is Judge Clane.

Judge Clane, a well-respected citizen of their small Georgia town, still agonizes over the suicide of his son, also a lawyer, seventeen years earlier. When the judge thinks of his son, he feels mad, sad, cheated. They were often at odds, especially in terms of racial justice. The Judge has strong opinions, even fear, about the growing trend toward equality of the Negro. The idea of having Negro children and white children attend the same school is unconscionable; sharing a lunch counter or even a drinking fountain, ridiculous.

The judge’s grandson, Jester, on the brink of adulthood, lives with him and constantly questions his own life’s worth. He deeply resents that his father took his own life. Although Jester has every advantage, he is not happy and openly disagrees with his grandfather’s attitude toward white supremacy.

Sherman Pew, a young black man with blue eyes, lives on Judge Clane’s property and is given almost free reign. Years before, Pew saved the Judge’s life and now the young man comes and goes as he pleases. As a baby, Pew was found in a church and is obsessed about knowing who his parents were. With his blue eyes, but dark skin, it seems obvious that one of his parents was white. Sherman wavers between wanting to be noticed, yet is afraid to be noticed. Finally, he moves from his apartment on the Judge’s property to a run-down white neighborhood, upsetting the fragile balance of the town.

I found Clock Without Hands thought provoking. As a northerner, my viewpoint in 1953 on racial justice was more as a casual observer, though even in Seattle I knew there were equal housing issues. Although a teenager at the time, it simply didn’t occur to me that housing restrictions resulted in segregated schools. Now I find it unsettling to read of hatred, inequality and the obvious unfairness of Southern prejudices. This novel is a well-written story of far-reaching discrimination, and the profound effect those attitudes have on societies.