I love books about national identity and the idea of a nation, novels that explore how ideology and history interact to forge a national personality or national mood. I recently gave five stars to Eugene Vodolazkin’s “Laurus,” which is very much about the idea of Russia, the Russian spirit. “The Underground Railroad” does that for the United States. Each new state is a state of possibility, one character observes, and Whitehead uses the conceit of a literal underground railroad that travels from state to state as an opportunity to explore the different ways that white Americans have sought to reckon and coexist with the oppressed minorities with whom they (often begrudgingly) share this nation. Each state the characters travel through is a new vision of America.

These visions aren’t pretty—if you want fairy tales about the national origin, look elsewhere. Violence, slavery, and imperialism are central themes. How could they not be? The often vexed and violent relationship between the races constitutes the soul of the American nation. Each character represents a different aspect of that soul; these aren’t particularly well-rounded or vividly rendered individuals; these are types, ideas; they each represent a different way of experiencing America.

This is a novel of nationhood, an ambitious work that seeks to squeeze as much of the national experience between two covers as it can. These sort of books—Moby-Dick, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Absalom Absalom!, The Adventures of Augie March, Invisible Man, Song of Solomon, Blood Meridian, Underworld—aren’t for everyone. Not everybody gets sentimental about big-themed books that try to tackle the heart of American national identity (i.e., Great American Novels). But I sure do.