I read many novels about Black lives and Black life, but very few are set in the aftermath of the Civil War. That period was a peculiar historical moment--it held much promise, but ultimately, Emancipation left the plight of Black Americans ambiguous. They were no longer enslaved, but not quite free--citizens in name, but not in truth. The rights of Black folks were uncertain, and the death of Radical Reconstruction, along with the birth of Black Codes and Jim Crow, made it clear that the notion of "Black rights" was nothing but a fiction.
And yet, in this period, Black folks still lived lives. They raised families, they fell in love, they tried to make a living, and they lived as best they could. Toni Morrison's 'Beloved' was the first work of historical fiction I read that gave space to imagining how Black life and Black lives fared in the shadow of enslavement, and Diane McKinney-Whetstone's 'Lazaretto' does the same. Besides that fact, the two novels share little in common.
Benin, a wealthy white Philadephia lawyer, rapes Meda, a Black domestic who works in his home. Benin takes Meda to a Black midwife, Dr. Miss, to have the pregnancy terminated, but Dr. Miss and her assistant, Sylvia, realize that Meda is too far along. Meda delivers her baby, but Benin demands that Meda be told that the baby died. The baby's fate is unknown for many years, and Meda's life is forever haunted by it. She comes to care for two white babies, whom she names Abraham and Lincoln--President Lincoln was assassinated the very night Meda gave birth--and raises them as her own until they are forced to flee from Philadelphia.
Meanwhile, Sylvia becomes a surrogate mother to her uncle's daughter, Vergie. She raises Vergie as she studies to become a nurse, and, eventually, Sylvia receives an appointment at Lazaretto, the city's immigrant quarantine hospital. Many years later, there is a funeral and a wedding. The two events are seemingly unrelated, but both events draw the novel's large cast of characters to Lazaretto, where the fate of Meda's baby is finally revealed. McKinney-Whetstone explores fictive kinship, the many forms of love, and the complications of racial identity along the way.
What I enjoyed most about this novel was the fact that it was set in the North. So often, conversations about Black life before and after Emancipation reinforce the notions of the South as *sheer evil* and the North as *pure goodness.* The very fact that slavery too existed in the North, that the antecedents of Jim Crow laws began in the North, that life in the North was not synonymous to freedom and prosperity, is very rarely depicted. But here in the "City of Brotherly Love," in the once capital of the new nation, in a space that was filled with Quakers and abolitionists, racism and racial inequities abound. McKinney-Whetstone did a fabulous job of capturing this, and she also made the Black communities in the novel as diverse as those one would have found in those times. Some were wealthy, and some were barely getting by. Some were native Philadelphians whose generational roots were firmly planted in the city's soil while others were recent migrants who had just left the sprawling plantations of Southern states.
The novel boasts an ensemble cast of characters, but McKinney-Whetstone balances all the characters with ease. Meda and Sylvia are the focus of the first half of the novel, and the second half turns to Abraham, Lincoln, and Sylvia once more. The supporting characters like Miss Ma, Buddy, and Carl were absolutely delightful. The novel's central weaknesses, as I saw them, were the language, the pacing, and the loose ends. The language was too flowery; there was little variation in syntax, and so the reader often finds themselves encountering one long, elaborate sentence after another. Consequently, it became difficult to appreciate the language, and the eloquence became more of a nuisance than a wonder. Additionally, I wonder how the dialogue actually matched up to the temporal setting. I got the feeling that some of the phrases and swears were more modern and reflective of contemporary times than the historical moment.
The novel's great mystery could probably be solved by an astute reader about halfway through. I don't think that anything was gained by dragging it out and failing to resolve it until the very end. Making Meda's baby the central focus of the novel prevented the author from unraveling threads that were far more knotted and complex. There was a queer interracial couple whose intimacy and racial differences were never given the depth and attention they needed; there was a mentally ill, older Black woman who was fascinating but relegated to the margins of both McKinney Whetstone's rendering of Philadelphia and the storyline itself; Sylvia and Carl's relationship never got its due, and these are just a few instances. Some of the moments were explained away so quickly that it was easy to lose track of what had occurred and how very significant a particular moment was.
The mixed-race characters of the novel were used perhaps to unveil the complications of racial identity, but the effect fell flat. I got a lot of "tragic mulatto" vibes from them, and found them (and their storylines) uninteresting. Additionally, the white characters were either really deplorable (which is very much believable) or wholly good (which is very much unbelievable). Even Lincoln is worshipped as a savior amongst the novel's Black characters while history has shown us that he was not a radical integrationist by far. Yes, he issued the Emancipation Proclamation, but only as a method to preserve the Union, not because he had strong leanings about the immorality of enslavement or an unwavering belief in Black humanity. Indeed, he supported a massive deportation program for those formerly enslaved because he believed that they simply *could not* become members of the nation's social and political fabric. There were, of course, Black Americans of various social standings who knew this at the time. Therefore, seeing Lincoln heralded as an example ally and savior by all was just...weird and offputting.
The novel's got structure and the writing--while unappealing to my taste--was strong. I appreciated the novel's setting, but based on the story, characters, and themes, I wouldn't strongly recommend the novel. Some of it had promise, but much of it did not. A novel entirely focused on Meda, Buddy, Sylvia, Nevada, and Carl would have been much, much more satisfying.