By the end of 1985 there were signs that people were growing impatient with the one hundredth birthday of Mark Twain's Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Essays in Harpers, The American Scholar, and elsewhere lit out for the idea that the novel's pleasures, like its central character, speak for themselves. It is easy to get tired of a party thrown by academics, but Huck Finn remains an occasion to rise to. No American book poses a greater challenge to the adults, whether teachers or parents, who preside over our children's experience of it. Those who have objected to its being required in the schools have identified the issue that must still be faced: is the book racist? Most of the book's commentators have said either yes, or no. If only the answer were this simple, it would be easy enough to decide whether to require anyone to read it. Is Huck Finn racist? Yes and no; no and yes. And the reason to make it required reading is that it is the perfect occasion to confront the meaning and consequences of racism. In itself it is no solution to the problem. Indeed, since it is racist as well as about racism, in itself it is part of the problem. The vexed aptness of Huck Finn is that it makes the problem immediate, personal, emotionally compelling. At its worst, it insinuates the legacy of racism. At its best, though, it convinces us—the way novels convince, through our feelings—how much we stand to gain by trying to solve the problem.