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304 pages, Hardcover
First published February 7, 2019
“We collect bones and bundles long after the river seeps back and the mud dries. We make up stories for each one. Each piece is remembered. Out of sweet cherry wood, we carve our very own book. The hands bring us paper. We stitch them together. Stuff the newspapers, like bookmarks, in between. Though neither of us can read or write, each page holds a story. We remember.”
I’m researching and writing about reuniting the African American family after the Emancipation. My research explores voice appropriation, created past, memory, identity, family, rupture and repair; and community. It follows multiple narratives as emancipated slave characters develop from 1860 to 1920 as I attempt to give voice to characters who are often forgotten in literature as well as in history.
My questions have evolved to: How can my novel give voice to the silence in the Black American/African American community; the novel as therapy; where does my novel fit in and explorations of narrator point of view.
Slavery forced the separation of millions of families; I’m hoping my historical fiction can help us reunite
This thesis is in two parts. First, a novel that explores motherhood, community, silence, identity, family, stereotypes and racism to illustrate the legacy of slavery by implicitly drawing parallels between the American past and the American present. The novel explores answers to questions about silence, reuniting the Black American family after the Emancipation, representing diverse characters, ethically portraying emancipated slave characters, and writing about slavery. In 'Remembered', a framed narrative, the past haunts the present in the form of Tempe, in the structure of the novel, and in the central conflicts within the narrative …………. In Chapter Two, I discuss the power of literature to build community, the importance of writing to reclaim story and identity ….. Chapter Three of the thesis is a creative examination of my writing practice ….. The thesis concludes with Chapter Four, a discussion of motherhood that focuses on representations of black mothers in literature. The discussion examines close readings of selected texts including ‘Remembered’ ……. Overall, my thesis aims to provoke dialogue that challenges the rhetoric of oppression, that gives voice to diverse characters, and that shatters silences. Unless Americans recognize the importance of diverse stories and diverse characters both on and off the page, like Spring, we will forever be haunted by the past.
Most of what I am about to tell you ain’t in no history book, no newspaper article, no encyclopaedia. There’s a whole heap of stories don’t ever get told. What I know comes straight from my sister’s lips to my heart and to this book. Some of it I seen with my own two eyes. Some with hers. You come from free people. From right here in Philadelphia. You wasn’t born here. It was me that brought you home
“[they] all hugged on it, loved on it and in the morning, one of them would love it to death. Love it to freedom.”
“It leaves streaks of black, like words, on her palms. The paper was worn before we got it. Between chores, the hired hands gave scraps to me and Tempe. Presents with pretty squiggles from all over the world. News they been saving or thinking on, travelling with. Most of them can’t read neither but the stories they tell! Get them filled up on some of Mama’s good supper and they get to “reading”. This here say so and so did such and such, one will start up and get to saying who done what. That ain’t the whole truth. Let me tell you what really happened, another will say.”
“To pass the time I pull out the book me and Tempe made. After a while I get folks to write their name or make their mark in it. Some write a few lines. Some draw pictures. Some give me clippings to add to it. Newspaper headlines, pages from books. Wanted posters, receipts. The longer we rattle on, the more I collect. I tell stories. Grand ones about escapes and revolts and little ones about people holding on to treasures. The whole world races by.”
Each person has a story…….It goes on like that for hours. Laughing, crying, whispering, singing, shouting, we swap stories in between bumping along the road. We’re supposed to remember them, to pass them on like folks we meet. Everyone’s looking for someone. Like a bucket, I’m carrying a head full of names and stories. Older ones spill out to make room for new ones.