Washington Post California Dreaming 'The Color Midnight Made' by Andrew Winer Reviewed by Susan Straight Sunday, August 4, 2002; Page BW06 THE COLOR MIDNIGHT MADE By Andrew Winer Washington Square. 258 pp. $24 Gritties and wilmas, whiteboys and bruthas and squids -- these are the lost and found souls who navigate treacherous waters in Andrew Winer's fine, engaging first novel. Set in Alameda, Calif., during the imminent closing of the naval station that has provided a living for residents, this coming-of-age story is wholly original, introducing a boy's narrative voice that seems an unlikely melding of Huck Finn and Duke, the tough teen from Warren Miller's The Cool World. Conrad Clay is a 10-year-old "whiteboy," son of alcoholic parents whose lives are falling apart, friend of Loop and other black gritties, or skateboarders. As the novel begins, times are hard, and they get harder: Conrad's grandmother is weakening, his father is laid off, his mother withdraws, and he is mortified when diagnosed colorblind. Conrad takes to the streets to console himself: "I stuffed the note back in my Raiders jacket and ran all the way out to Naval Housing, where kids screamed and spidered over the monkey bars and a boy with mud on his cheeks pointed a space gun at me. I kept going out to Slime Canal, past the Ferry, and past a ship from China named Cho Yang. I watched a pigeon flap out of my way. I wanted to see things like everyone else did. If I practiced my colors enough maybe I'd see them right -- like a brutha." Conrad's voice, sometimes hilarious and sometimes heartbreaking, lifts the novel above so many other adolescent sagas, and Winer keeps a tight rein on his story. Facing eviction and a death, his parents take out their frustration on their son, but the book rarely turns maudlin. It often reads like an antidote to the dysfunctional family memoir. This is especially true when Conrad describes the bad parts of his life, such as when his mother tries to save him the easy way: "She glared at me, raising an eyebrow. 'I had to go to church when I was little,' she said, 'and now so do you.' "I didn't know much about church. I only knew it happened during Raiders games. So I hated it automatic." Conrad doesn't last long at church. During the service, he agrees to provide the men in the congregation with updates on the ballgame. "Later during the sermon, I got up to go to the bathroom a couple times, only I made a right turn at the men's room and bolted for Mr. Garcia's truck . . . I listened for the Raiders score on the radio, wrote it down on a Tithes and Offerings envelope, then ran back into the church. It took about as much time as a long-ass leak." Conrad is a skateboarder, allowing for journeys in which the frightening detours of his life and the dissolution of his city are offset by the exuberance and clarity of his voice. B.L.T., his squid friend, encourages him to think like "a real skater." "Skaters are like bacteria," B.L.T. explains, "infesting the sewage system of America." Conrad learns to respect B.L.T. and his skills. He notes, "BLT had methods . . . Kickflip backside lipslides, frontside nosebones, tweaked-over tailgrabs, five-O's, feeble transfers." But B.L.T. moves away, and Conrad's father is gone, his mother appears to be checking out of life. Conrad heads to Loop's house for solace. "He seemed as inside of me as bone blood," he says of Loop. Toward the novel's end, Winer seems a bit too enthralled with the colorful dialogue of Loop's family and friends, and scenes are slowed down by conversations that show off great lines but meander. But the author redeems himself with his staunch refusal to sentimentalize the hard lives of his characters. Many recent novels feature young white characters "saved" by virtuous black families; in Winer's Alameda, Loop's family is much more realistically flawed, though loving. Loop's mother, Mary, is enthralled with a con artist, and his brother Midnight, for whom the book is named, accidentally blinded himself while shooting out streetlights. Race, a facet of literature often missing in contemporary fiction, is vividly portrayed here. Conrad must save himself, and though his family disintegrates and the naval station is shut down, by the novel's close he triumphs quietly and believably, as does his creator. Susan Straight's latest novel, "Highwire Moon," recently won the California Book Award. © 2002 The Washington Post Company