Having mentioned a book myself in another thread, something I read as a teenager and then found and read again a couple of decades later (though I remember much about the first reading, I don't remember the second, just that I had my hands on a book I'd been looking for a long time but hadn't been able to remember the title or the author) I was accordingly seized by a desire to read it again. So I ordered it, and it came yesterday, and I spent much of the day reading it.
You Shall Know Them, by Vercors (pseudonym of Jean Bruller), translated from the French by Rita Barisse. It was published in 1953. It's a novel that revolves around serious questions about what it means to be human. A tribe of "missing links" is discovered in New Guinea, and greedy industrialists want to enslave them as cheap labor because they consider them to be just animals. But it's worse than that, because other people exploit the questions already raised by the existence of the "tropis" to extend to questions about whether the dark-skinned races are fully human and ought to be treated as such, or whether it's just sentimental drivel to accord them equal rights under the law. So the scientists who have been studying the tropis, and don't want them to be mistreated, much less a return to the "racialism" that brought about the horrors of the last World War, still fresh in their minds (the Nuremberg trials are mentioned a few times), decide that they can perhaps prove that humans and tropis are of the same species by artificially inseminating some of the females with human sperm. The hero, a journalist, ends up being the donor. And in order to decide the question of whether they are human or not in a British court of law (because the cross-breeding does work, but it also works inseminating them with sperm from the great apes so isn't decisive), he decides to martyr himself on their behalf by being tried for murder: he kills (humanely) one of the experimental children, his own son, and then turns himself into the police to stand trial. If he gets off, he will have killed the baby for nothing, which is horrifying, and if he is convicted, which is what he wants, then he expects to hang. (He admits to killing the baby partway down the second page, so that's not a spoiler.)
And yet with all this—and something I didn't remember from previous reading—is that there is also a lot of dry humor in this book, mostly at the expense of the British—the main characters are all very British and all very much of the 1950s—and though the author is French, they all seem very much to me like people in books written at that period by actual Brits. His treatment of their foibles seems quite affectionate, too, even while he mocks them.
Also, though the book is quite obviously meant to be anti-racism, it is itself extremely racist in many respects. I'd say unconsciously so. For instance all the characters, and some of them are very good, very humane, very earnest in their repugnance for racism, come out with some shockingly racist statements and expect the people they are talking to to agree, as indeed they do. It's just taken for granted by all of them that the white race is clearly superior to any other, and that there is a large leap in intelligence between a white man and a black man, and sometimes they express this in language that is rather ugly. And yet all the time they are exuding the milk of human kindness. It is just possible that he is doing this ironically, with the purpose of pointing out their unconscious biases, but I don't think so, because they are contrasted with all sorts of people who are far less humane, far more prejudiced, not so ethical. They appear to be there, not only to move the plot, but to demonstrate what thinking, questioning, compassionate people struggling to understand are like. There is no reason to suppose that the author does not share the exact same prejudices. But I may be wrong, because there is only the dialogue of the characters to suggest that he does. He may be more subtle than I think he is.