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Study guide · Play

Topdog/Underdog

by Suzan-Lori Parks

A chapter-by-chapter study guide for Topdog/Underdog. Built around the rubric, not the cover — chapter summaries, characters, themes, symbols, and the key quotes worth pulling for an essay.

  • 6chapters
  • 6characters
  • 8themes
  • 5symbols
  • 10quotes
  • 9study tools

01·Chapter-by-chapter

A reader's guide, chapter by chapter.

6 chapters · click any chapter to expand its summary and analysis.

  1. Ch. 1Scene 1

    Summary

    Scene One of Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog introduces brothers Lincoln and Booth living together in a small rooming house that serves as their bedroom, kitchen, and living room. Booth, the younger sibling, is intensely practicing three-card monte, focusing on perfecting his hustle, while Lincoln, the older brother, comes home still dressed in his Abraham Lincoln costume and whiteface makeup — the outfit he wears for his job at an arcade where tourists pay to shoot at a fake president. The brothers move around each other, their interactions charged with the familiar tension that comes from years of knowing each other: Booth boasts about suits he’s stolen and his plans to get back into card games, while Lincoln responds with tired irony. This scene sets the stage for their shared past as former street hustlers, revealing that Lincoln stepped away from the game after a friend, Lonny, was killed. Finances are tight, the room feels cramped, and the subtle power dynamics between them — who holds the upper hand and who is beneath — are already in a quiet, uneasy negotiation.

    Analysis

    Parks opens with a striking moment of visual irony: a Black man dressed as Abraham Lincoln, the Great Emancipator, walks into a room he can barely afford to rent. The costume isn’t treated as a metaphor by the characters — it’s just part of the job — which adds to its symbolic impact. Parks allows the image to speak for itself without added commentary, a discipline that characterizes her approach to drama throughout.

    The room acts like a pressure cooker. Parks's stage directions are notably detailed about the arrangement — the cot, the folding chair, the makeshift kitchenette — and this precision emphasizes that confinement is a key theme, not just a backdrop. Two men share one room, each with a name that carries the weight of American mythology: Lincoln and Booth. The names are overt, but Parks earns this boldness by keeping the characters from becoming mere symbols; they remain distinctly themselves.

    Booth's card practice serves as the scene's rhythmic backbone. The repetitive dealing reflects the play’s structural logic — the same actions, rehearsed until they become instinctive, until the hustle is ingrained. Parks is already planting the question that the play will explore over the next five scenes: can you ever really escape from what you excel at? Lincoln's costume and Booth's cards are parallel obsessions, and the tonal blend — sardonic, tender, volatile — indicates that comedy and catastrophe will coexist in this space.

    Key quotes

    • “Lincoln: 'I am not going back to the cards.'”

      Lincoln states his refusal flatly when Booth presses him to teach the three-card monte hustle, a line whose dramatic irony deepens with every subsequent scene.

    • “Booth: 'Watch me. 3-card monte. The card you pick is the card you get. Watch me watch me watch me.'”

      Booth rehearses his patter alone, the repetition revealing both his hunger for mastery and the self-deception built into the hustle's very language.

    • “Lincoln: 'They pay me to be a target. I sit there, they come in, they shoot me, I fall down. End of story.'”

      Lincoln describes his arcade job with flat resignation, the sentence's blunt rhythm enacting the deadness he has accepted in exchange for safety.

  2. Ch. 2Scene 2

    Summary

    Scene Two opens in a rundown rooming house where Lincoln and Booth, two brothers struggling to get by in an unnamed American city, share a cramped space. Lincoln walks in still dressed in his Abraham Lincoln costume and whiteface makeup from his job at an arcade, where tourists pay to "shoot" a fake president. Meanwhile, Booth has been stealing expensive suits and practicing his three-card monte hustle, desperate to reclaim the street-level fame he believes Lincoln once enjoyed. The brothers settle into a tense domestic routine—eating takeout, exchanging barbs, and skirting around money issues. Booth nags Lincoln to teach him the monte, convinced that this con is his way out of their financial struggles. Lincoln resists, claiming he has moved on from that lifestyle. The main action of the scene unfolds in a mock lesson: Lincoln reluctantly shows him the throw, his hands moving with a fluidity that reveals just how ingrained the hustle still is within him. Booth fumbles with the cards, highlighting his own shortcomings. The scene concludes with their rivalry intensifying—Booth's desire for status clashing with Lincoln's fragile quest for legitimacy.

    Analysis

    Suzan-Lori Parks uses Scene Two to showcase the play's central conflict in a compact form: performance versus authenticity, past versus present, and identity as costume versus identity as fate. Lincoln's whiteface makeup creates a powerful dramatic irony—a Black man hired to portray the president who "freed" his ancestors, only to return home to a brother eager to enslave himself to the same street economy that Lincoln is attempting to escape. Parks refrains from commentary; the costume conveys the message.

    The card-throwing lesson serves as a reversal of power dynamics. Lincoln, who is supposed to be the "topdog" of the title, possesses genuine skill, yet that very skill ensnares him. Each fluid motion of the monte throw serves as a reminder that his legitimate job is a demeaning act, while the illegitimate hustle is where his true talent lies. Parks directs this with stage instructions that resemble dance notation, emphasizing the physical grace of the con.

    Tonal shifts happen quickly and purposefully. The brothers' banter has a genuine comedic warmth—Parks captures the rhythmic flow of sibling dialogue—but the laughter often turns sour. Booth's bravado hides a fear of becoming irrelevant; Lincoln's fatigue conceals a fear of slipping backward. The rooming house itself, with its lone chair and absence of a proper door, illustrates a deeper truth: these men are not creating a life; they are merely camping out in one. The scene sets up the Chekhovian gun of the monte deck, making it clear to the audience that the cards won't remain on the table.

    Key quotes

    • “I'm reformed. I'm a new man. I don't do that stuff no more.”

      Lincoln deflects Booth's repeated demands for a monte lesson, insisting his hustling days are finished—even as his hands instinctively mime the throw.

    • “Watch me. Watch my hands. You gotta watch my hands if you ever gonna learn.”

      Lincoln finally relents and begins demonstrating the three-card monte, the instruction doubling as a warning about misdirection and trust.

    • “Thuh cards is all I got.”

      Booth, after fumbling the throw repeatedly, strips away his bravado and admits the hustle represents his only viable vision of a future.

  3. Ch. 3Scene 3

    Summary

    Scene 3 of Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog opens in the shabby rooming house that Lincoln and Booth share. Booth is by himself, obsessively rehearsing his three-card monte hustle, fine-tuning his patter and sleight-of-hand with the hope of becoming as legendary as Lincoln was on the streets. Lincoln comes home still dressed in his Abraham Lincoln costume and whiteface makeup from his job at the arcade—a stark clash of American myth and Black working-class life. The brothers slip into their usual rhythm of teasing and one-upmanship. Booth urges Lincoln to teach him the monte game properly, but Lincoln resists, claiming he has moved on from that life. The scene shifts when Booth admits he has been shoplifting expensive suits and gifts for his girlfriend Grace, crafting an elaborate fantasy of climbing the social ladder. Lincoln, tired and increasingly drunk from the free whiskey at the arcade, cuts through Booth's illusions with sharp sarcasm. The scene ends on a tense stalemate: Booth holding onto his con-man dreams, Lincoln grasping at his fragile sense of legitimacy, and the bond between them stretched tight by envy, love, and the shared legacy of a life dealt from the bottom of the deck.

    Analysis

    Parks engineers Scene 3 as a continuous exploration of performance built on layers of performance. Lincoln can't escape his costume—the whiteface and stovepipe hat invade his domestic space—and Parks uses this to emphasize that identity in the play is always a role assigned by history and economics, never something one owns privately. The brothers' sparring dialogue follows the call-and-response style of the dozens, with each verbal jab serving as an audition for dominance; yet Parks maintains the underlying affection amidst the aggression, ensuring the scene doesn't devolve into outright hostility.

    The three-card monte acts as the play's core metaphor. Booth's frantic solo rehearsal reflects the audience's own experience: we watch someone practice deception, aware of the trick, yet still half-hoping the illusion holds. Lincoln's refusal to teach is a type of hustle itself—holding back knowledge as a form of power—and Parks presents this as a reflection of broader gatekeeping structures related to race and class.

    The scene's craftiest move is its tonal modulation. Parks shifts from quick vaudeville-style comedy to a quieter, more painful tone when Lincoln drinks, causing his speech to slow down, making the whiteface seem less absurd and more grotesque. The stolen suits Booth displays turn into props in his own private theatre of ambition, and Parks allows them to sit onstage as ironic counterbalances to Lincoln's costume: both brothers are dressed for lives they don't actually lead. The scene's unresolved ending—no lesson imparted, no fantasy relinquished—is a deliberate structural choice, building tension that will explode in later scenes.

    Key quotes

    • “3-Card. Thuh man. Thuh man with thuh cards. You could be that man again, Link.”

      Booth urges Lincoln to return to the monte hustle, framing the street con as a form of masculine identity and legacy rather than mere criminality.

    • “I am not going back to that life. I got a legit job. I am a changed man.”

      Lincoln's insistence on his reformed status rings hollow against his whiteface costume, letting Parks expose the performance embedded in any claim to self-reinvention.

    • “Thuh cards talk to me. Thuh cards say I got what it takes.”

      Booth anthropomorphizes the monte deck, revealing how completely he has displaced his hunger for agency onto the fantasy of the con.

  4. Ch. 4Scene 4

    Summary

    Scene 4 of Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog opens in the cramped boarding-house room shared by brothers Lincoln and Booth. Lincoln comes home from his job at the arcade, still dressed in his Abraham Lincoln costume and whiteface makeup—a ridiculous daily outfit that Booth finds both silly and humiliating. The scene centers around a card game: Booth, eager to learn the three-card monte hustle that Lincoln has given up, nags his brother for lessons. Lincoln pushes back, claiming he has moved on from that street life. Meanwhile, Booth has been stealing—he proudly reveals stolen suits and goods as if he's providing for his absent girlfriend Grace, putting on a kind of domestic show. The brothers share a takeout meal, their playful banter mixing genuine affection with a bit of rivalry. Eventually, Lincoln gives in and starts teaching Booth the tricks of the con, turning the lesson into a reflection on deception, identity, and their brotherly dynamics. The scene wraps up with Lincoln demonstrating the throw with a practiced, almost mesmerizing skill, the cards moving faster than Booth—or the audience—can keep up with.

    Analysis

    Scene 4 is the pivotal moment of the play: the connection between Lincoln and Booth is at its most open here, yet Parks plants the seeds of their eventual fallout in every interaction. The costume—complete with whiteface and a stovepipe hat—serves as a recurring motif, but in this scene, it transforms into a battleground for dignity. Lincoln dons the deceased president's visage to endure; Booth interprets that endurance as a form of surrender. Parks cleverly uses the card lesson as a structural reflection: the audience, like Booth, is learning to spot the trick while the true deception unfolds elsewhere, within the emotional dynamics of the brothers' bond.

    The detail of the stolen suits carries a quietly devastating weight. Booth's theft isn't presented as a crime, but rather as a form of aspiration—he's crafting a life from what the world denies him. Parks doesn't impose a moral judgment, allowing the objects to convey their own complexity.

    The tonal shifts are swift and meticulously managed. Humor—Booth's proud recounting of his stolen items and Lincoln's deadpan delivery in costume—quickly gives way to something more visceral when Lincoln's hands touch the cards. Parks's stage directions frame the throw almost as choreography, emphasizing that the hustle is as much about performance art as it is about deception. The scene's closing image, with Lincoln's hands moving silently, captures the play's core conflict: mastery as both a blessing and a burden, something that elevates yet ultimately leads to destruction.

    Key quotes

    • “Yr gonna be doing it til you doing it in yr sleep.”

      Lincoln instructs Booth during the card lesson, the repetition underscoring how the hustle becomes involuntary—a second nature neither brother can fully escape.

    • “I am not a fast-food worker. I am a fast-food customer.”

      Booth bristles at Lincoln's teasing about his menial circumstances, the line capturing his fragile, performance-driven sense of self-worth.

    • “Watch me. Dont watch the card, watch me.”

      Lincoln's instruction to Booth during the monte demonstration doubles as the play's thesis on misdirection, identity, and where true power actually resides.

  5. Ch. 5Scene 5

    Summary

    Scene 5 of Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog begins with Lincoln and Booth in their cramped rooming-house room, where the tension between the brothers has built up significantly since the earlier scenes. Booth, increasingly obsessed with his dream of running a three-card monte operation, practices his card tricks relentlessly as he prepares for a date with Grace, the woman he plans to marry. He dresses meticulously, narrating his own seduction routine with exaggerated confidence. Meanwhile, Lincoln has just returned from his job at the arcade, where he impersonates Abraham Lincoln for customers willing to pay to shoot him. He drinks while watching his brother perform. The heart of the scene comes when Lincoln, unable to hold back, starts to show off his old three-card monte skills. His hands move with a fluidity that makes Booth's practice seem amateurish. The brothers engage in a verbal and physical dance around each other, with the card table becoming a symbol of rivalry, inheritance, and unspoken sorrow. After Booth leaves for his date, Lincoln, now alone, drinks more heavily and eventually falls asleep in his Lincoln costume. The scene concludes in a suspended, poignant silence — one brother pursuing a future, the other trapped in a dead man's clothes.

    Analysis

    Scene 5 marks the turning point in Topdog/Underdog, shifting from fraternal comedy to tragedy, with Parks skillfully using layered theatrical irony to facilitate this change. The costume Lincoln wears home — whiteface, stovepipe hat, frock coat — serves not just as a job prop; it becomes a walking symbol of American myth imposed on a Black body. Parks leaves it on stage in silence at the end of the scene, creating a powerful impact. The card table stands as the play's central material symbol: it represents skill, deception, inheritance (the game from their father), and the zero-sum logic that defines the brothers' relationship. Lincoln's hands performing the monte shuffle while Booth looks on are choreographed to convey both seduction and threat — Parks's stage directions treat the cards almost like a character of their own.

    In terms of tone, the scene strikes a careful balance: Booth's humorous self-mythologizing about Grace keeps things light, yet Parks counters each boast with Lincoln's silence or a flat, deflating remark. This creates a tonal dissonance that feels more authentic than straightforward comedy or pathos. Parks also employs her signature repetition-and-revision technique in this scene: phrases and gestures resonate with earlier moments but feel different, gaining significance. The drinking, the costume, the empty room — while these elements aren’t new, in Scene 5 they solidify into something irreversible, indicating that the play has moved beyond a point where either brother can simply choose a different path.

    Key quotes

    • “I'm an exact replica of a historical personage. People pay good money to pretend to shoot me.”

      Lincoln explains his arcade job to Booth, the flat declarative masking the profound indignity of the work.

    • “Watch me. Ima show you how it's done and how it will never be done by you.”

      Lincoln taunts Booth mid-shuffle, the line crystallizing the scene's power dynamic between the two brothers.

    • “She's coming back. Grace is coming back.”

      Booth repeats the phrase like an incantation as he dresses, his insistence signaling exactly the doubt he is trying to suppress.

  6. Ch. 6Scene 6

    Summary

    Scene 6 of Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog brings the play's simmering tensions to a catastrophic climax. Lincoln and Booth are alone in their rooming house, and Booth—having finally gotten the money from his hidden inheritance, the three-card-monte “inheritance” tucked away in a stocking—challenges Lincoln to one last game. Lincoln, who has been avoiding the hustle throughout the play, agrees. The game is a setup: Booth believes he has mastered the con, while Lincoln is well aware of this. Lincoln throws the cards and, with chilling ease, defeats Booth and takes the stocking. Humiliated and coming apart, Booth confesses that he has killed Grace—his girlfriend, the woman he imagined would save him—and hidden her body in the closet. As Lincoln reaches for the stocking, Booth shoots him dead. The play concludes with Booth holding his brother's lifeless body and howling, creating a scene of fratricidal grief that reflects the Cain-and-Abel myth hinted at by the brothers' names from the very beginning.

    Analysis

    Parks engineers Scene 6 as a slow-burn implosion, utilizing the three-card-monte ritual—woven throughout the play as both a means of survival and a metaphor—to unravel the brothers' relationship. In this moment, the card game loses any trace of playfulness; it transforms into a formal ceremony of control and degradation. Lincoln's effortless victory becomes the cruelest irony of the craft: the very skill that cost him his identity (he left the hustle to become a Lincoln impersonator, another type of con) resurfaces at the worst possible time, confirming Booth's deepest fear that he will always be the underdog.

    Parks's use of the stocking—Booth's inheritance and his last private connection to dignity and future—displays a masterclass in symbolic compression. Money, heritage, and identity converge into a single prop. When Lincoln takes it, he doesn't just win the game; he strips Booth of the illusion of selfhood that Booth has been constructing throughout the play.

    The revelation of Grace's murder comes not as a shock but as a dreadful inevitability. Parks has planted hints of Booth's volatility in each scene; the violence against Grace reflects the violence against Lincoln, both acts of a man destroying what he cannot possess. The final image—Booth lamenting over Lincoln's body—denies catharsis. The brothers' names (Lincoln, Booth) have always led here, but Parks makes the audience feel the weight of that destination rather than simply acknowledge it. The howl concludes the play in raw sound, transcending language, which is where Parks has been steering all along.

    Key quotes

    • “3-Card Monte. The card game. The hustle. Thuh man who throws thuh cards is called thuh Dealer.”

      Lincoln recites the rules of three-card monte early in the scene, a ritualistic invocation that frames the final game as both performance and verdict.

    • “I am the best. There is no one who can best me.”

      Booth asserts his mastery of the hustle just before Lincoln beats him with contemptuous ease, making the boast a measure of his delusion.

    • “BOOTH shoots LINCOLN. LINCOLN slumps. BOOTH stands over him. Then he cradles LINCOLN in his arms.”

      The stage direction that closes the play, replacing dialogue with image and collapsing the brothers' entire history of rivalry into a single act of grief.

02·Characters

Who's who, and what they want.

  • Booth

    Booth is one of the two main characters in Suzan-Lori Parks's two-hander Topdog/Underdog, a young Black man living in a dilapidated rooming house with his older brother Lincoln. He is volatile, delusional, and desperately seeking respect, spending the play plotting a life of status that always seems just out of reach. His main hustle is three-card monte, a street con he practices obsessively but never quite masters, insisting he will outshine Lincoln's legendary skill even as each rehearsal highlights his clumsiness. He shoplifts designer suits and fantasizes about rekindling his relationship with Grace, weaving an elaborate story that he is on the brink of wealth and romance. These fantasies unravel in real time: Grace stands him up on the night he has planned a romantic dinner, and the suit he stole doesn’t fit.

    Booth's journey is marked by a series of humiliations hidden behind a facade of bravado. He gives himself the nickname "3-Card" to claim an identity that Lincoln has already left behind, and he keeps a nylon stocking—his inheritance from their mother—under paranoid secrecy, refusing to let Lincoln near it. That stocking becomes the play's tragic prop: when Lincoln wins it in a card game, Booth kills him, the eruption of violence exposing how deeply his self-worth relied on being the one thing Lincoln couldn’t take from him. Booth is both pitiable and terrifying—a man whose love for his brother is intertwined with a need to destroy him.

    Full analysis →
    Connected to Lincoln · Grace · Cookie · Zach · Lonny
  • Cookie

    Cookie is Lincoln's ex-wife, a character who never steps onto the stage in Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog, yet her presence lingers in the cramped rooming-house setting of the play. We mainly learn about her through Lincoln's bitter and wry memories: he recalls how she would sleep with one eye open, always suspicious of him, and how she ultimately left him, taking with her the semblance of stability he had managed to build. Cookie embodies the life Lincoln has already lost before the story starts—steady companionship, a home, and the chance for honest work—making her a living symbol of his decline. Her absence highlights Lincoln's isolation and his struggle to hold onto anything meaningful. Thematically, Cookie contrasts with Grace: while Grace is Booth's active and present obsession, Cookie is Lincoln's passive and fading ghost. Lincoln's stories about her reveal his self-deprecating humor and a lingering tenderness he hides behind jokes, hinting that the end of their marriage hurt him more than he lets on. Since she never appears on stage, Cookie exists solely as a narrative construct shaped by Lincoln's unreliable viewpoint, prompting the audience to consider how much of her "coldness" might be his own projection. Her role may be small in terms of dialogue but carries significant weight in its implications: she grounds Lincoln's backstory, sheds light on his emotional defensiveness, and serves as a reminder to both brothers that love and domestic life can be as deceptive as a game of three-card monte.

    Full analysis →
    Connected to Lincoln · Booth · Grace
  • Grace

    Grace is Booth's on-again, off-again girlfriend in Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog, and although she never appears onstage, she has a strong influence on the play's action. Most of what we learn about her comes from Booth's boastful, defensive monologues: he talks about her coming over, cleans the room, practices seductive speeches, and even fabricates an elaborate lie about having slept with her. When Lincoln challenges him, Booth's stories fall apart—Grace has actually stood him up multiple times, revealing the disparity between his imagined persona as a charming ladies' man and his true loneliness. Her name carries a sense of irony; she embodies the social and romantic validation that Booth longs for but cannot achieve. Toward the end of the play, Booth discloses that Grace has left him for another man, a humiliation that intensifies his growing rage and feelings of failure. This rejection acts as one of the emotional triggers that drive Booth toward the play's violent climax. Grace serves as an offstage mirror: every claim Booth makes about her highlights his need for validation, while every truth that emerges about her absence points to his deeper inadequacy. She also plays a structural role, contrasting with the ghostly Cookie—Lincoln's absent ex-wife—to illustrate that both brothers are shaped as much by the women who have left them as by their relationship with each other.

    Full analysis →
    Connected to Booth · Lincoln · Cookie
  • Lincoln

    Lincoln is one of the two main characters in Suzan-Lori Parks's two-hander Topdog/Underdog, sharing a cramped rooming house with his brother, Booth. Once a renowned three-card monte hustler who led a crew on the streets, Lincoln now appears to have turned his life around: he works at an arcade, where he impersonates Abraham Lincoln and lets tourists shoot him with a cap gun for a paycheck. This absurd and demeaning job frames his journey—a man who has given up control and identity for the illusion of stability.

    A defining trait of Lincoln's character is his deep, conflicted pride. He is talented, charismatic, and self-aware enough to recognize that his days as a hustler shaped who he is, yet he clings to the idea that leaving the con was a wise choice rather than a defeat. When Booth urges him to return to the hustle, Lincoln initially resists, citing the violence that ended his crew—Lonny's death, the beatings, the losses. However, his resolve begins to weaken: in a crucial moment, he picks up the cards again, and his hands instinctively recall everything. The ease with which he regains the skill reveals that his choice to "go straight" was always a performance, much like his costume as Lincoln.

    His story concludes in tragedy. After conning Booth out of his inheritance in a final three-card game, Lincoln is strangled by his brother. This act makes the play's title painfully literal: the topdog and underdog swap roles until the cycle leads to their mutual destruction. Lincoln represents Parks's exploration of Black masculinity, inherited failure, and the alluring danger of a talent shaped by the world.

    Full analysis →
    Connected to Booth · Cookie · Grace · Lonny · Zach
  • Lonny

    Lonny is a minor but thematically important character in Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog. He primarily exists in the spoken memories of Lincoln and Booth, rather than making an onstage appearance. He serves as a figure from their shared street past, anchoring the play's world of hustlers, con men, and three-card monte crews. Lonny is described as a former running partner of Lincoln's from his days working the cards on the street, part of the original monte crew that included characters like Zach. His fate, like that of others in that circle, is marked by violence and uncertainty; mentions of what happened to Lonny act as cautionary reminders that highlight the dangers beneath the brothers' nostalgic conversations about the hustle.

    Lonny's role in the play is largely symbolic: he embodies the path not taken (or already taken), a ghost of the street life that Lincoln has tried to escape by taking the arcade job, which Booth romanticizes as glamorous and lucrative. Each mention of Lonny serves as a reminder to the audience — and to Lincoln in particular — that the three-card monte life carries deadly consequences. He acts as a dramatic foil and a memento mori, emphasizing the play's central tension between the brothers' desire for easy money and the harsh price that desire demands. Although he never speaks or appears, Lonny's presence haunts the cramped rooming-house set, adding tragic weight to Lincoln's eventual return to the cards.

    Full analysis →
    Connected to Lincoln · Booth · Zach
  • Zach

    Zach is a minor yet crucial character in Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog. He is the unseen manager of the arcade where Lincoln works, and we mostly understand his influence through Lincoln's descriptions of their workplace interactions rather than through any direct presence on stage. Zach hires Lincoln to impersonate Abraham Lincoln in a shooting-gallery booth, requiring him to wear whiteface makeup and a stovepipe hat so that customers can reenact the assassination. This setup is necessary for Lincoln’s finances but also deeply dehumanizing, forcing him to stage his own symbolic death for entertainment. Zach symbolizes the exploitative economic system that keeps Lincoln trapped in a cycle of humiliation: he dictates the terms of Lincoln's employment, has the authority to fire him, and ultimately does let Lincoln go when the arcade reduces its staff. This dismissal becomes a key turning point in the plot, leaving Lincoln without his main source of income and pushing him back toward the three-card monte hustle he had attempted to escape. Even though Zach never speaks during the play, his authority influences Lincoln’s self-esteem and the tensions between the brothers throughout. He represents the faceless institutional power that keeps both brothers economically marginalized, making him an important symbol of systemic constraint, even in his absence.

    Full analysis →
    Connected to Lincoln · Booth · Grace · Cookie · Lonny

03·Themes

The ideas the work keeps returning to.

AmbitionBetrayalFailureFamilyFateIdentityRace and RacismThe American Dream

Ambition

In Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog, ambition feels less like a ladder to climb and more like a trap that snaps shut when a character reaches for it. The two brothers, Lincoln and Booth, are confined in a rooming house that serves as a pressure cooker for their unmet desires, with their competing ambitions fueling every hustle, rehearsal, and confrontation.

Booth's ambition is openly declared. Throughout the play, he obsessively practices three-card monte, honing the moves that Lincoln mastered and then abandoned. He believes that mastering the con will bring him money, respect, and the return of his girlfriend, Grace. His careful hiding of stolen suits and cash beneath the mattress makes his dream tangible — wealth that is concealed, hoarded, and not yet realized. Each practice session acts as a rehearsal for an identity he struggles to embrace, and Parks highlights this with a painful humor: the disparity between Booth's inflated self-image and his clumsy hands illustrates the gap between ambition and ability.

Lincoln's ambition is more toxic because it has already soured. He abandoned the cards — the one area where he truly excelled — for the numbing security of a job at an arcade, where he impersonates Abraham Lincoln and gets paid to be shot at all day. His hesitant return to the monte board later in the play is not a victory but a relapse, with ambition reemerging as a compulsion rather than a genuine aspiration.

The climax intertwines both arcs: Lincoln's undeniable skill shatters Booth's dream of outdoing him, while Booth's violent reaction shows that in this world, ambition between brothers can only culminate in destruction — either of the dream or of the dreamer.

Betrayal

In Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog, betrayal unfolds not as a single act but as a gradual construction made up of cons, unspoken truths, and a final, devastating violent moment. The emotional core of the play revolves around the three-card monte hustle — a game that embodies betrayal: the mark is led to believe he can win, only to be deceived. Lincoln and Booth have spent their lives on opposing sides of this con, and Parks employs this scheme as a structural metaphor for their relationship.

Lincoln's slow return to the hustle represents betrayal towards Booth, who has been eager to learn the tricks from him. While Lincoln appears to teach, he withholds crucial insights — the "moves behind the moves" — reflecting how the brothers have always feigned closeness without fully embracing it. When Lincoln finally throws the cards again on the street, he does so without informing Booth, quietly reclaiming an identity that Booth thought they had left behind together.

The theme deepens with the inheritance knot. Booth has been safeguarding a bag of money left by their mother, while Lincoln carries a similar inheritance from their father. Both brothers have kept these secrets from each other for years — small, corrosive truths that transform their shared poverty into a matter of choice. When Booth finally reveals the bag and Lincoln wins it in a card game, the betrayal turns back on itself: the brother who taught the con becomes its victim.

The play's final gunshot — Booth killing Lincoln — serves as the inevitable conclusion to the series of betrayals rather than a sudden shock, implicating the audience who witnessed each deception unfold.

Failure

In Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog, failure emerges not as a single catastrophic moment but as a slow, structural condition that the two brothers — Lincoln and Booth — are born into and cannot escape, regardless of how cleverly they navigate their lives. The play presents failure as something inherited: both men were abandoned by their parents on the same night, each receiving a small envelope of cash as a parting gift, a detail Parks emphasizes with quiet persistence. That money, intended to foster a future, was long spent, and neither brother has built anything since.

Lincoln's journey serves as the play's most poignant exploration of this theme. He was once a renowned three-card monte hustler, but now he has "gone legit," performing a daily reenactment of Abraham Lincoln's assassination for tourists — a job that underscores his stagnation. He wears whiteface, sits in a booth, and repeatedly gets shot, embodying a man paid to enact his own symbolic demise. His quest for respectability turns into a different kind of failure, a façade of stability that deceives no one, least of all himself.

Booth, on the other hand, rehearses for a future that remains out of reach. He obsessively practices his card-throwing, believing he can master the con his brother has left behind, yet his technique proves empty the moment Lincoln picks up the cards again. Booth's romantic dream — a domestic life with Grace — crumbles offstage before the audience ever witnesses it.

The final image, Booth killing Lincoln over the very envelope of inheritance money, merges the brothers' individual failures into one: the tragedy lies not in their attempts that fell short, but in the reality that the game was rigged before either man even picked up a card.

Family

In Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog, family represents both the source of pain and the only means of healing. Lincoln and Booth—brothers sharing a cramped rented room—are named after presidents by a father who treated it as a joke, an act of careless whimsy that highlights the lack of parental investment in their lives. Both parents abandoned the boys in their early teens, giving one son a roll of cash as a parting gift before vanishing. This shared abandonment looms over the play's present tense: the brothers struggle to talk about their childhood without the conversation devolving into blame, deflection, or silence.

The room itself acts as a miniature family home. Booth prepares lavish meals he can't afford, setting the table with a care that imitates the household neither brother ever experienced. Lincoln sleeps in a recliner instead of a proper bed, a detail that subtly places him as a guest in what should be a shared space—a man without a secure role even within his own family unit.

Their rivalry in three-card monte reinterprets the Cain-and-Abel dynamic in economic terms. Lincoln possesses the skill Booth desperately wishes to inherit, and Booth's fixation on mastering the hustle reflects a yearning for paternal connection—to gain something tangible from a male figure. When Lincoln finally agrees to teach him, the lesson also tests their trust, ending in betrayal. The climactic moment, where Booth shoots Lincoln with the very stocking-wrapped inheritance left by their mother, merges the play's two central anxieties—money and family—into one irreversible act of fratricide.

Fate

In Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog, fate feels less like an outside force and more like a groove shaped by the brothers’ history, habits, and their names—a path they keep falling back into no matter how hard they try to escape it.

The most persistent symbol of fate is the three-card monte hustle itself. Lincoln was once the best hustler on the street; he abandoned the con for a legitimate job impersonating a dead president, believing this change would last. Still, the cards keep resurfacing in their cramped boarding-house room, and every time Lincoln's hands glide across the makeshift table, his old skills reemerge involuntarily, as if that talent resides in his body rather than his conscious choice. The game is more than a job—it embodies a physical manifestation of destiny.

Parks highlights this through the brothers' names. Naming them Lincoln and Booth starts as a parental joke but becomes prophetic: one brother is destined for a kind of presidential stagnation, while the other is meant to bring about a violent downfall. Booth spends the play perfecting the con he believes will make him rich, but his awkward, imitative throws reflect his namesake's lack of originality—he desires Lincoln's success without Lincoln's dedication.

The theme of inheritance deepens this sense of fatalism. Both brothers were abandoned by their parents on the same night, each left with a small roll of cash. This parallel injury—identical in shape but carried separately—implies their paths were determined long before they had any say. Lincoln's final, deadly choice to let Booth win the last game, fully aware of what would happen, portrays a man who has finally stopped fighting against the fate laid out for him since birth.

Identity

In Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog, identity isn't a fixed trait but more like a costume that can be borrowed, stolen, or thrown away. The play's central irony lies in the fact that both brothers have already swapped their identities before the story even starts. Lincoln and Booth get their names from the assassin and his victim, a dark joke their father made that has subtly influenced their lives: Lincoln makes a living by impersonating the president he’s named after, sitting in whiteface at an arcade while strangers act out shooting him. Meanwhile, Booth practices the three-card monte con that Lincoln once excelled at before giving it up. This name swap signals early on that selfhood in this world is always a borrowed script.

The three-card monte table becomes the play's main vehicle for exploring identity. Lincoln's hands shuffle the cards with almost ritualistic precision; the game serves as a performance of a performance, where a Black man pretends to be a white president who is in turn pretending to be a mark. When Lincoln finally decides to deal the cards again in the climactic scene, he's not just returning to a hustle — he’s reclaiming an identity that Booth has been trying to take on during Lincoln's absence, and that act of reclamation costs Booth everything.

The inheritance left in a stocking — the roll of bills their mother gave each son — makes the question of what truly belongs to someone very concrete. Booth clings to his as evidence of a self he feels he needs to protect; Lincoln spends his without care, as if identity is something you can afford to let go of. This difference in how each brother values what they’ve been given propels the play toward its harsh, unavoidable ending.

Race and Racism

In Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog, race isn’t just debated; it’s woven into the very fabric of the brothers' lives — evident in their names, their daily struggles, and the oppressive environment surrounding them.

The most striking racial joke in the play comes from its structure: Lincoln, a Black man, earns a living by impersonating Abraham Lincoln in a rundown arcade, donning whiteface makeup and a stovepipe hat so that white tourists can reenact his assassination for a dollar. This costume starkly illustrates a disturbing historical twist — the descendant of the enslaved playing the part of the martyr who freed them — and Parks makes sure the irony doesn’t feel like a victory. Lincoln needs this job to survive. While the whiteface comes off at the end of each shift, the economic dependence it symbolizes lingers.

The brothers' names, given to them by their father for a laugh, serve as a continuous source of racial pain. Being named Lincoln and Booth by a Black man signifies their family's connection to a history they never had the power to shape, a history that assigned them roles before they even existed. Their landlady’s name — the unseen yet ever-present Lonnie — hints at an entire community of individuals similarly trapped by their circumstances.

Three-card monte serves as the play's primary racial metaphor. This con game ensures that the house always wins, and Lincoln and Booth learned it on streets where the odds were already against them. When Lincoln attempts to escape the hustle, he finds that legitimate work is just another rigged game — the arcade job is unstable, humiliating, and eventually disappears. Parks depicts racism not as mere individual prejudice but as a system that constantly reshuffles the same losing cards.

The American Dream

In Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog, the American Dream isn’t a pathway to opportunity but a rigged game — and the play's central three-card monte hustle illustrates this directly. Lincoln and Booth, two Black brothers living in a cramped room, are named after presidents, but the irony lies in the structure rather than mere decoration: the nation's legendary promise of reinvention is accessible to them only as a costume. Lincoln wears an Abraham Lincoln costume to endure fake assassination attempts at an arcade, where he’s paid to enact a history that has little to do with his own survival.

The brothers' fixation on the con game serves as the play's most thorough examination of the Dream. Three-card monte suggests that skill and courage can outsmart the house, that a keen eye can lead to real money — the classic self-made-man fantasy condensed into a street corner. Lincoln was once the best, a legend who walked away, while Booth spends the play trying to inherit that expertise. However, Parks illustrates how the hustle consumes the hustler: the money Lincoln earns at the arcade is scant and humiliating, while the cash Booth stashes in his stocking — his inheritance, his stake, his dream — becomes the catalyst for the play's tragedy.

The brothers' continuous practice of the con, dealing cards across their shared bed, portrays the American Dream as mere repetition devoid of progress. Each practice session hints at transformation; none brings it about. When Lincoln finally throws the cards for real, the act blurs the line between the game and their lives, exposing the Dream's most perilous deception: the belief that this time, the cards will land differently.

04·Symbols & motifs

Objects, images, and motifs worth tracking.

  • Lincoln Assassination Costume

    In Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog, the Lincoln assassination costume—complete with a stovepipe hat, fake beard, and frock coat—captures the inescapable grip of a predetermined, tragic identity. Lincoln (originally Link) is dressed as the man who is destined to be shot, reenacting his own death every night in an arcade. The costume blurs the line between role and identity: when he wears it, Lincoln can't escape the myths of victimhood and expendability tied to his name. It also reflects the brothers' shared entrapment in the racial violence of American history, implying that Black men in America are constantly dressed in narratives not of their own creation, acting out conclusions that have already been scripted for them.

    Evidence

    Each day, Lincoln gets ready at the rooming house, putting on the stovepipe hat and beard before going to the arcade, where white customers pay to reenact John Wilkes Booth's assassination of a president—and Lincoln must convincingly freeze at the moment of the shot. Parks emphasizes the act of putting on the costume as a ritual of self-erasure: Lincoln jokes about it but also acknowledges that this job is "the only thing I'm good at." When Lincoln loses his job at the arcade, he tears off the costume in a moment of raw humiliation, the hat and coat falling away to reveal a man with nothing beneath the performance. The climax of the play brutally makes the symbol literal: brother Booth shoots Lincoln dead, turning the nightly staged assassination into reality. The logic of the costume—that Lincoln exists to be killed—becomes unavoidable, making the prop the play's most chilling emblem of fate, racial myth, and fratricidal doom.

  • The Card

    In Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog, the three-card monte hustle represents the tempting illusion of choice and highlights the unfair reality of American opportunity. The card game seems like it can be won, but it's really set up to trick players; no one actually stands a chance. This reflects the experiences of Lincoln and Booth, two Black brothers whose chances for social mobility are similarly limited. The cards represent the misleading allure of the American Dream: the idea that talent, luck, or hard work can beat a system designed to favor certain people while ensuring others fall behind. Those who control the cards wield power, but even that power is unstable and can lead to their downfall.

    Evidence

    Booth practices throwing cards obsessively throughout the play, convinced he can perfect the con and escape poverty—his rehearsals in their cramped rooming house vividly illustrate his desperate dreams. Lincoln, a former three-card monte dealer, feels an irresistible pull to the deck despite the risks involved; when he executes a perfect throw for Booth in Scene Four, the smoothness of the shuffle sharply contrasts with his dead-end job impersonating Abraham Lincoln for tourists. The climactic scene highlights the power of the symbol: Booth wagers his inheritance—the money their mother left behind—on a card game against Lincoln. Lincoln wins, revealing Booth's self-deception, and in response, Booth shoots his brother. The card that "wins" leads to death, proving that the hustle's promise of escape is merely a trap, and that trying to compete in a rigged game ultimately destroys the players from within.

  • The Gun

    In Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog, the gun represents the deadly clash of fate, masculinity, and the ongoing power struggle between the brothers. As it gets passed back and forth between Lincoln and Booth, the weapon illustrates the all-or-nothing nature of their relationship: one brother must triumph while the other must be defeated. It also brings to mind the charged mythology of the American West, which Lincoln reenacts each night at his arcade job—a theatrical portrayal of assassination that blurs the line between staged violence and real-life brutality. In the end, the gun embodies the play's title: the person who wields it enjoys temporary control, but that power is always laced with the potential for its own downfall.

    Evidence

    The gun's symbolic weight builds throughout several intense scenes. Booth carries a stolen gun during the play, using it to show he's ready to move from three-card monte to something more dangerous—it's a prop that represents his dangerous ambitions. Meanwhile, Lincoln spends his days at the arcade in whiteface and a stovepipe hat, inviting strangers to "shoot" him in a reenactment of Ford's Theatre; this fake assassination rehearses the real one that's about to happen. The climax brings these threads together: after Lincoln hustles Booth out of his inheritance in one last card game, Booth retrieves the gun and shoots his brother dead, echoing the arcade scene Lincoln has acted out countless times. The gun thus completes the circle—Lincoln's lifelong role as a victim of gunfire, played out for pocket change, ultimately becomes his real fate, caused by the one person he trusted the most.

  • The Stocking with Money

    In Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog, the money-stuffed stocking left for Lincoln and Booth by their mother symbolizes the risky illusion of inheritance, security, and maternal affection. Since neither brother knows how much money is really in there—or if the bills are even genuine—the stocking represents all the promises their parents made and failed to keep. It reflects the brothers' conflicting wishes for a stable foundation, a real stake in life, and some evidence that they were ever valued. In the end, the stocking illustrates how unexamined false hope can explode relationships: when its contents are finally unveiled, it sets off the play's tragic violence.

    Evidence

    Throughout the play, Booth clings to the stocking with a fierce, almost superstitious devotion, keeping it hidden in his room and refusing to open it—treating it like a sacred nest egg left by a mother who abandoned both sons with nothing but cash. When Lincoln encourages him to either spend it or at least count it, Booth recoils, as opening the stocking would mean facing the exact worth his mother assigned him. The tension reaches its peak in the final scene: after Lincoln hustles Booth out of his three-card monte inheritance money, humiliated, Booth retrieves the stocking and hurls it at Lincoln as proof of his own value. Lincoln opens it and finds only crumpled newspaper—the money was never real. That revelation of emptiness, a mother’s lie made tangible in worthless paper, drives Booth to shoot Lincoln, shattering the brothers’ fragile bond in one irreversible moment.

  • Three-Card Monte

    In Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog, Three-Card Monte represents the alluring yet rigged nature of the American Dream—a system that promises opportunities while ensuring exploitation. This con game reflects the brothers' struggles with power and identity: the one who controls the cards controls their fate. It also illustrates the false sense of choice; the mark is destined to lose because the game is rigged from the beginning, much like Lincoln and Booth are ensnared in cycles of poverty, rivalry, and self-destruction. The shell game mirrors the racial and economic systems that keep opportunities just out of reach, turning "winning" into a fantasy that ultimately harms those who believe in it the most.

    Evidence

    Lincoln's past skill at Three-Card Monte—brought to life through vivid storytelling in the play—reveals that the con is his true identity, something his act as Abraham Lincoln at the arcade can’t replace. As Booth obsessively practices his throws in their cramped rooming house, Parks presents the cards as both a goal and a trap: Booth thinks he can hustle his way to respect and money, reflecting the mark's dangerous overconfidence. In the tense final scene, Lincoln agrees to one last game with Booth, wagering the inheritance money Booth has been hoarding. Lincoln's effortless victory—showing he hasn't lost his skill—shatters Booth's last hope and sets off the play's violent conclusion. The card that Booth reveals is always the wrong one, emphasizing how the brothers have been marks for each other all along, and how a game meant to deceive ultimately leads to death instead of fortune.

05·Key quotes

The lines worth pulling for an essay.

“Ima show you how to throw the cards.”

In Suzan-Lori Parks's two-hander play Topdog/Underdog, Lincoln speaks this line to his younger brother Booth. The play revolves around two Black brothers sharing a rundown rooming house, with the street con game Three-card Monte serving as the central symbol of their lives and rivalry. Lincoln, a former hustler who once made a living throwing cards, has tried to go "straight" by working a dead-end job impersonating Abraham Lincoln at an arcade. Booth, eager to learn the con and regain a sense of power and identity, pressures Lincoln into teaching him. When Lincoln finally gives in and says this line, it signals a crucial turning point: his return to the hustle he wanted to escape. This moment encapsulates the play's themes of poverty cycles, brotherhood, competition, and the alluring nature of street life. Teaching Booth the cards isn't a generous act; it ignites the tragic endgame of their relationship, where skill, pride, and money clash with devastating consequences. The cards become a metaphor for fate, inheritance, and the unfair games that Black men must navigate in America.

Lincoln · to Booth · Act Two

“Don't open it. Don't open it. Don't open it.”

This urgent, repetitive plea is delivered by Lincoln near the climax of Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog (2001), directed at his brother Booth, who clutches the knotted stocking left to him by their mother. Lincoln understands — through hard-won street experience — that the money inside is likely far less than Booth imagines and that Booth's dreams of a better life will be dashed the moment he opens it. The triple repetition reflects the hypnotic, incantatory rhythm Parks employs throughout the play and mirrors the three-card monte patter that shapes the brothers' lives. Thematically, this line captures the play's core tension between hope and reality, illusion and truth. The sealed stocking symbolizes Booth's last psychological refuge — his belief that he deserves something, that he has been chosen. Lincoln's warning serves as both an act of brotherly love and a foreshadowing of doom: once the stocking is opened, the fragile bond between the brothers shatters into fatal violence, sealing the play's tragic, predetermined conclusion.

Lincoln · to Booth · Scene 6 (climactic final scene)

“You got to keep the card in the mind of the man.”

This line is delivered by Lincoln, also known as "Link," in Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog. It appears during one of the many scenes where the brothers practice or talk about the three-card monte hustle. Lincoln, the older sibling and a former street con artist, is teaching Booth, referred to as "3-Card," about the psychological essence of the con: it’s not just about skillful hands or where the card is physically located — it’s about shaping what the mark thinks he sees. The dealer needs to create a mental picture so convincing that the mark's own certainty becomes his downfall. This line carries deeper themes beyond the game itself. It reflects the play's focus on illusion, manipulation, and identity: both brothers are perpetually "running a game" on one another and on themselves, fabricating and maintaining stories about who holds the upper hand. Furthermore, the quote hints at the play's tragic climax, where Lincoln's greater skill in misdirection — keeping the card "in the mind" — becomes crucial. Parks employs the hustle as a metaphor for the systemic deceptions influencing Black male identity and brotherly rivalry in America.

Lincoln (Link) · to Booth (3-Card) · Three-card monte rehearsal scene

“We're brothers. We supposed to look out for each other.”

This line is spoken by Lincoln (or shared between both brothers) in Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog, a two-person play focused on brothers Lincoln and Booth, who live together in a shabby rooming house with a strained relationship. The quote appears during one of the play's frequent moments of awkward reconciliation, when the brothers' rivalry, resentment, and reliance on each other momentarily shift to a heartfelt appeal for family loyalty. This moment is significant thematically because the entire play questions what brotherhood truly means in a zero-sum survival scenario: the two men vie for money, identity, and a dangerous three-card monte scheme that ultimately leads to their downfall. In hindsight, the line is ironic — the promise of mutual support is one that the play carefully dismantles. Parks uses it to reveal how the illusion of family solidarity clashes with the realities of poverty, abandonment (as both were deserted by their parents), and a society that forces Black men to compete against each other. The phrase "supposed to" is crucial: it indicates obligation without fulfillment, hope without action, and foreshadows the tragic conclusion where brotherhood ultimately devolves into violence.

Lincoln / Booth · to Each other (Lincoln and Booth) · Rooming house — mid-play reconciliation exchange

“I am not my brother's keeper.”

In Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog, this line is delivered by Lincoln, or "Link," one of the two brothers at the heart of the play. It comes during a tense moment between Lincoln and his younger brother Booth, as their rivalry, resentment, and dependency on each other reach a peak. The phrase directly references the biblical story of Cain and Abel (Genesis 4:9), where Cain deflects God's question about Abel's whereabouts with those same words — a chilling hint at the play's tragic conclusion, where Booth fatally shoots Lincoln.

This quote carries significant thematic weight: it captures the brothers' fractured relationship, their competition over money (the inheritance tied to three-card monte), identity, and survival. Parks intentionally uses the biblical reference — the characters' names, Lincoln and Booth, already evoke a famous assassination. By referencing Cain and Abel, she adds another archetypal story of brother killing brother to the narrative, implying that this cycle of fraternal violence is as ancient as humanity itself. The line emphasizes the play's central tragedy: that the brothers are deeply intertwined, even in death.

Lincoln (Link) · to Booth · Late in the play, during a climactic confrontation between the two brothers

“I could be you, you know. I could be the one sitting in that chair.”

This line is delivered by Lincoln to his brother Booth in Suzan-Lori Parks's play Topdog/Underdog (2001). It comes up during one of their tense conversations in their shared room at a boarding house, as Lincoln — who makes a living at an arcade impersonating Abraham Lincoln and allowing tourists to "shoot" him — contemplates the fluid and interchangeable aspects of their identities and destinies. The quote encapsulates the play's main theme: the brothers are caught in an ongoing power struggle, each capable of taking the other's place. Their names — Lincoln and Booth, reminiscent of the historical assassin and his victim — highlight how roles of power and victimhood can flip at any time. The line also hints at the tragic climax of the play, where the designations of "topdog" and "underdog" ultimately and violently change places. Thematically, it explores issues of race, masculinity, economic insecurity, and the American myth of self-reinvention: identity is not static but performed, and survival hinges on who has control over the hustle at any moment.

Lincoln · to Booth · Shared rooming-house room, mid-play confrontation between the brothers

“You ain't gonna be doing no more cards. Lincoln. You done.”

This chilling line is spoken by Booth to his brother Lincoln near the climax of Suzan-Lori Parks's Pulitzer Prize-winning play Topdog/Underdog (2001). The moment comes after Lincoln performs one final, impressive three-card monte hustle—showcasing the very skill Booth has been trying to master throughout the play. Overwhelmed by jealousy, humiliation, and a lifetime of sibling rivalry, Booth shoots Lincoln dead right after saying these words. The statement carries a heavy irony: "Lincoln" recalls the historical president's assassination, a fate that Parks foreshadows from the very first scene through the brothers' absurd yet meaningful names. Thematically, the line sharpens the play's central concerns—competition, identity, and the cyclical nature of Black poverty and violence in America. Booth's words signal the betrayal of brotherhood: these two men have been each other's only family, yet the same hustler's logic of "topdog" and "underdog" that governs street survival ultimately tears apart their bond. The card game, a metaphor for systemic con artistry and false promise, concludes not with a victor but with destruction.

Booth · to Lincoln · Final scene (Scene Six / climax)

“3-Card Monte. The card game of the streets.”

This line is spoken by Lincoln, or "Link," in Suzan-Lori Parks's Pulitzer Prize-winning play Topdog/Underdog. He shares it while discussing — or maybe even romanticizing — the street hustle of three-card monte, the con game that shaped his past and consumed his brother Booth. The quote comes early in the play, as the brothers, living together in a cramped rooming house, navigate their shared history with the game. Lincoln has attempted to move on from the hustle by taking a legitimate (albeit degrading) job impersonating Abraham Lincoln at an arcade, while Booth is eager to master three-card monte and regain the street credibility Lincoln once enjoyed. This line is significant thematically because it portrays the card game as more than just a trick; it symbolizes survival, identity, race, and the tempting allure of the underground economy for Black men who are excluded from mainstream opportunities. The "streets" referenced here reflect both a tangible environment and a psychological trap: the brothers are constantly torn between escaping their reality and being defined by it, with the monte table serving as the play's key metaphor for fate, chance, and the illusion of control.

Lincoln (Link) · to Booth · Early in the play, rooming-house setting

“Lincoln. booth. 2 brothers. 1 is topdog. 1 is underdog.”

This line is from Suzan-Lori Parks's Pulitzer Prize-winning play Topdog/Underdog (2001) and serves as a structural thesis statement woven into the text. The two brothers, Lincoln and Booth, share a cramped room in a dilapidated boarding house, caught in an ongoing struggle for power fueled by rivalry, identity, and survival. The quote captures the play's core conflict: the hierarchy between the siblings is always shifting. Lincoln, the older brother, makes a living impersonating President Abraham Lincoln at an arcade, while Booth aspires to master the three-card monte hustle that Lincoln has left behind. Their names hint at American mythology and the violence within it, indicating that the "topdog/underdog" dynamic extends beyond personal rivalry to encompass historical and systemic issues. The line is significant thematically because it frames the entire play as a zero-sum game — one brother's ascent requires the other's decline — leading to a tragic twist that mirrors the assassination hinted at by their names. Parks employs this direct, almost stage-direction-like statement to draw the audience into the harsh reality faced by Black men competing for limited dignity and power.

Stage directions / authorial voice · Topdog/Underdog (full play) · Framing/prefatory text of the play

“Hustling is an art.”

In Suzan-Lori Parks's two-hander play Topdog/Underdog (2001), Lincoln, the older brother, speaks this line to his younger sibling Booth. The story follows two Black brothers living in a dilapidated rooming house, getting by with small-time schemes and card hustling. Lincoln, who used to hustle three-card monte on the streets, is now trying to turn his life around by working as an Abraham Lincoln impersonator in an arcade. He delivers this line during a discussion about the ethics and skills involved in conning. This line is crucial because it reframes hustling — often seen as criminal or shameful — as a legitimate skill that requires expertise, discipline, and creativity. Parks uses it to explore how systemic poverty and racial inequality compel marginalized men to hone "illegitimate" talents as a means of survival. The assertion also hints at the play's tragic ending: Lincoln's talent ultimately pulls him back into the hustle, while Booth's desperate wish to master that same skill leads the brothers toward ruin. This quote captures the play's main conflict between aspiration and entrapment, dignity and desperation.

Lincoln · to Booth · Rooming house — brothers debating the con game

06·Study tools

Discussion, essay, and quiz prompts.

Discussion questions2 items ·

  • Discussion Questions: Topdog/Underdog by Suzan-Lori Parks

    Consider these questions as you reflect on the play. Be ready to share your insights and hear your classmates' viewpoints.

    1. Identity & Performance: Lincoln earns a living by impersonating Abraham Lincoln, while both brothers engage in various cons. In what ways does the play imply that identity itself is a form of performance? How do Lincoln and Booth create—and dismantle—their understanding of self throughout the play?
    1. Brotherhood & Rivalry: The bond between Lincoln and Booth is marked by both profound loyalty and fierce competition. How does Parks use their relationship to delve into the tension between love and jealousy within family ties?
    1. The Three-Card Monte Con: The card game serves as a key metaphor in the play. What does this con signify beyond just a street hustle? How does it mirror the brothers' interactions with power, deceit, and the struggle for survival?
    1. Race & the American Dream: Lincoln and Booth bear the names of two historically significant American figures. How does Parks use these names to comment on race, opportunity, and the illusion of the American Dream?
    1. Fate vs. Agency: Both brothers appear ensnared in inescapable cycles. To what degree do Lincoln and Booth have control over their own futures, and to what degree are they shaped by circumstance, history, or one another?
    1. The Ending: The play wraps up with a shocking act of violence. Did the ending catch you off guard? Looking back, what hints did Parks lay out throughout the play, and what does the conclusion imply about the brothers' unavoidable conflict?

    ap_lit · common_core_ela · ib_lang_lit

  • Discussion Questions: Topdog/Underdog by Suzan-Lori Parks

    Consider the following questions as you reflect on the play. Be ready to share your thoughts and hear your classmates' perspectives.

    1. Identity & Performance: Lincoln earns a living by impersonating Abraham Lincoln, while both brothers also take on the role of hustlers in the three-card monte game. How does the play blur the distinction between performance and true identity? What insights does it offer about how individuals shape their sense of self?
    1. Brotherhood & Rivalry: How does the dynamic between Lincoln and Booth change throughout the play? When do you notice genuine affection between them, and when does competition take control? What do you think fuels the tension between the two brothers?
    1. The American Dream: Both brothers are pursuing success and autonomy, yet they find themselves caught in cycles of poverty and deception. How does the play challenge or complicate the concept of the American Dream, especially for Black men in America?
    1. Names & Fate: Their father humorously names the brothers Lincoln and Booth. How do their names hint at or influence their destinies? Do you think the characters are at the mercy of fate, or do they truly have control over their choices?
    1. The Con Game as Metaphor: Three-card monte is a game based on trickery—the dealer always comes out ahead. In what ways does this game symbolize broader social, racial, and economic systems within the play? Who are the real "topdogs" and "underdogs" in the world that Parks portrays?
    1. The Ending: Without revealing too much for those who are still reading — the play concludes with a shocking act of violence. Did the ending feel like a natural conclusion to you? What message does Parks seem to convey about cycles of betrayal and survival?

    ap_lit · common_core_ela · ib_english

Essay prompts2 items ·

  • Essay Prompt: Topdog/Underdog by Suzan-Lori Parks

    Prompt:

    In Topdog/Underdog, Suzan-Lori Parks uses the three-card monte con game as a key metaphor to delve into themes of identity, power, and the repetitive cycle of oppression. Write a well-structured argumentative essay in which you argue that the roles of the brothers as "topdog" and "underdog" are not static but are continuously changing, and that this fluidity ultimately mirrors the wider social and racial limitations that hinder Lincoln and Booth from breaking free from their predetermined destinies.

    In your essay, be sure to:

    • Craft a clear, defensible thesis that asserts how the shifting power dynamics between Lincoln and Booth function thematically.
    • Use specific textual evidence (dialogue, stage directions, key scenes) to bolster your argument.
    • Analyze how Parks utilizes dramatic structure, naming, and symbolism (e.g., the card game, the costumes, the inheritance) to support your claim.
    • Address the counterargument suggesting that one brother remains consistently dominant, and explain why the text complicates this perspective.
    • Conclude by linking the brothers' personal conflict to Parks's broader commentary on race, legacy, and the American Dream.

    Suggested length: 4–6 paragraphs | Timed writing or take-home format

    ap_lit · ib_lang_lit · common_core_ela

  • Essay Prompt: Topdog/Underdog by Suzan-Lori Parks

    Prompt:

    In Suzan-Lori Parks's Topdog/Underdog, the dynamics of "topdog" and "underdog" are fluid, constantly shifting between the brothers Lincoln and Booth through themes of power, performance, and deception.

    Write a well-organized essay in which you argue how Parks uses the rivalry between the brothers and the motif of the con game (three-card monte) to delve into the cyclical nature of power and identity in America. In your essay, be sure to:

    • Identify and analyze at least two specific moments in the play that clearly illustrate the shifts in power between Lincoln and Booth.
    • Examine how performance and role-playing (including Lincoln's role as an Abraham Lincoln impersonator) serve as a commentary on race, identity, and social mobility.
    • Present a clear thesis about what Parks ultimately conveys regarding the possibility of escaping one's prescribed social role.

    Support your argument with direct evidence from the text.

    ap_lit · ib_lang_lit · common_core_ela

Quiz questions3 items ·

  • In Suzan-Lori Parks's play Topdog/Underdog, what con game do the two brothers, Lincoln and Booth, engage in throughout the story?

    A) Three-card monte B) The shell game C) Poker D) Dice hustling

    Correct Answer: A) Three-card monte

    ap_lit · common_core · ib_lang_lit

  • In Suzan-Lori Parks's play Topdog/Underdog, which con game do the brothers, Lincoln and Booth, engage in throughout the story?

    A) Three-card monte B) The shell game C) Poker D) Dice hustling

    Correct Answer: A) Three-card monte

    ap_lit · common_core · ib_english

  • In Suzan-Lori Parks's play Topdog/Underdog, what type of con game do the two brothers, Lincoln and Booth, engage in during the play?

    • A) Three-card monte
    • B) The shell game
    • C) Poker
    • D) Dice hustling

    Correct Answer: A) Three-card monte

    ap_lit · common_core_ela · ib_english

Teacher handout2 items ·

  • Teacher Handout: Topdog/Underdog by Suzan-Lori Parks

    Mini-Lecture: Context & Overview

    Author: Suzan-Lori Parks First Performed: 2001 (Public Theater, New York); Published: 2001 Award: Pulitzer Prize for Drama, 2002 — the first awarded to a Black woman playwright.

    Topdog/Underdog is a two-character play that blends tragedy, dark comedy, and performance art. It delves into themes of identity, race, brotherhood, fate, and the alluring nature of the American Dream, largely through the lens of a con game known as three-card monte.

    Key Characters

    | Character | Description | |-----------|-------------| | Lincoln | The older brother who works at an arcade impersonating Abraham Lincoln, allowing tourists to "shoot" him. His name is steeped in irony, as he was once a skilled three-card monte hustler. | | Booth | The younger brother who dreams of mastering three-card monte. His name references John Wilkes Booth, the man who assassinated Lincoln. |

    > 🔑 Key Insight: The brothers' names are intentional — Parks uses them to foreshadow the play's tragic ending and to comment on cycles of violence and history.

    Vocabulary

    | Term | Definition | |------|------------| | Three-card monte | A street con game where a dealer shuffles three cards, and a mark attempts to find a specific card; it's nearly impossible to win fairly. | | The hustle | In the context of the play, it refers to both a literal con and a metaphor for survival strategies in a racist, capitalist society. | | Irony (dramatic) | Occurs when the audience knows something that a character does not — heightened in this play by the characters' names. | | Performativity | The concept (from theorist Judith Butler) that identity is shaped through repeated actions; relevant to Lincoln's "performance" of his identity at work and during the card game. | | Naturalism vs. Absurdism | The play mixes realistic dialogue with absurdist, ritualistic repetition — a signature of Parks's style. |

    Scaffolded Discussion Prompts

    Level 1 — Recall

    1. What job does Lincoln have at the start of the play, and why is it important?
    2. What does Booth want Lincoln to teach him?

    Level 2 — Analysis

    1. How do the brothers' names work symbolically? What historical events do they reference, and how does Parks use this to create dramatic irony?
    2. In what ways does the three-card monte game function as a metaphor for the power dynamics between the brothers?

    Level 3 — Evaluation & Connection

    1. Parks has mentioned that the play examines "the legacy of history on the present." How does the brothers' living situation reflect the larger systemic inequalities that Black men face in America?
    2. To what degree are Lincoln and Booth victims of circumstance versus creators of their own destinies?

    Structural Notes for Teachers

    • The play consists of six scenes (Parks refers to them as "scenes," not acts).
    • Parks incorporates "spells" — intentional pauses included in the stage directions — as a dramatic element. Discuss with students what these silences convey.
    • The ending is intentionally shocking and feels inevitable; consider asking students to predict the outcome after Scene 4 before they read the conclusion.

    Suggested Paired Texts & Media

    • *Arthur Miller, Death of a Salesman*** — a parallel exploration of the failures of the American Dream
    • *Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man*** — themes surrounding Black identity and performance
    • August Wilson's Pittsburgh Cycle — the African American experience and the legacy of history
    • *Judith Butler, Gender Trouble*** (excerpts) — for advanced classes examining performativity

    Handout prepared for classroom use. Reproducible for educational purposes.

    ap_lit · ib_lang_lit · common_core_ela · aqa_drama

  • Teacher Handout: Topdog/Underdog by Suzan-Lori Parks

    Mini-Lecture: Context & Overview

    Author: Suzan-Lori Parks Published: 2001 | Pulitzer Prize for Drama: 2002 (first Black woman to win) Genre: Drama / Tragicomedy

    Topdog/Underdog features two brothers, Lincoln and Booth, in a dilapidated rooming house. Their names are a nod to the assassin and his target. The play dives into themes of poverty, identity, rivalry, and the allure of street hustles, particularly three-card monte. This card game serves as a central metaphor, reflecting both the brothers' complicated relationship and the systemic deceptions they confront.

    Key Vocabulary

    | Term | Definition | |------|------------| | Three-card monte | A street con game where a dealer hides a card and challenges players to find it; it’s nearly impossible to win | | Hustle | A scheme or con used to make money, often outside legal boundaries | | Tragicomedy | A genre that blends elements of tragedy and comedy | | Irony (dramatic) | When the audience knows something that a character does not | | Foil | A character whose contrasting traits highlight those of another character | | Inheritance | What is passed down — materially, emotionally, or culturally — across generations |

    Thematic Focus Areas

    1. Identity & Naming — How do Lincoln and Booth’s names shape their expectations, destinies, and self-views?
    2. The American Dream — Does the play support or critique the belief that hard work leads to success?
    3. Brotherhood & Rivalry — How does sibling competition reflect broader social power dynamics?
    4. Performance & Reality — Lincoln performs assassination for a living. How does "performance" intertwine with authentic selfhood throughout the play?
    5. Cycles of Poverty — What internal and external forces trap the brothers in their situations?

    Scaffolded Discussion Prompts

    Level 1 – Recall

    • What jobs do Lincoln and Booth have at the beginning of the play?
    • Why are the brothers' names significant?

    Level 2 – Analysis

    • How does Parks use the three-card monte game symbolically? What does it represent beyond just a trick?
    • In what ways do Lincoln and Booth serve as foils to one another? Where do their paths intersect?

    Level 3 – Evaluation & Connection

    • Parks claims the play represents "the hustle of the American Dream." Do you agree? Provide evidence from the text.
    • How does the ending change our understanding of everything we've seen? Is it a foregone conclusion? Why or why not?

    Suggested Close-Reading Passage

    > Act Two / Final Scene — Pay attention to the last exchange between Lincoln and Booth that leads to the climax of the play.

    Guiding questions for close reading:

    • What insights does the language provide about each brother's desperation?
    • How does Parks use stage directions to create tension?
    • What is the symbolic meaning of the card/money in this moment?

    Extension Activity

    Creative Response: Invite students to rewrite the opening scene from one brother's perspective, revealing an internal monologue that Parks leaves unexpressed. How does this brother view the other?

    Curriculum connections: AP Literature & Composition | Common Core ELA (Grades 11–12) | IB Language & Literature

    ap_lit · common_core_ela · ib_lang_lit

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