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Showing posts with label Jesmyn Ward. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jesmyn Ward. Show all posts

Monday, February 26, 2018

Salvage the Bones by Jesmyn Ward: A review

Back in October, I read Jesmyn Ward's latest book, Sing, Unburied, Sing, set in the Mississippi Gulf Coast town of Bois Sauvage and the winner of the National Book Award for Fiction. It occurred to me then that I had never read this earlier book, also set in Bois Sauvage, also a National Book Award winner. Ward seems to be making a habit of that.

I thought the book I read in October was amazing, but, if anything, this one is even better. It certainly packs even more of an emotional wallop. At least it did for me. I found that I could more easily empathize with these characters.

The story centers around the Batiste family, a dirt poor - literally - African-American family living on land on the bayou outside of Bois Sauvage inherited from grandparents. The family comprises a widowed father, three sons, and a daughter. Our main protagonist, the one whose eyes we look through, is the daughter, Esch. She is the third child of the family, now fourteen years old. The difficult birth of her younger brother, called Junior, resulted in the death of the wife and mother of the Batiste family and left it bereft. The father has become a heavy drinker and the children are mostly in charge of bringing themselves up. Nevertheless, this poor family is rich in love and caring for each other, as we will learn in the twelve days covered by this novel. 

It is late August 2005. The Gulf Coast is weighed down by oppressive heat and a sense of dread. It has been an active season for tropical storms and now another one has made its way into the Gulf from the Atlantic and is gathering strength in the warm waters there. Esch's father is concerned about the coming storm and is doing his best to prepare. He is old enough to remember the killer Camille that devastated the area in late August 1969. People who remember still talk about it and the Batiste children have grown up hearing those stories from their parents.

The sense of foreboding grows day by day as weather forecasters report that the storm is intensifying, but meantime, the Batiste children continue with their daily lives. Esch's oldest brother, Randall, is a gifted basketball player and is preoccupied with trying out for a basketball camp. The second brother Skeetah (Jason) cares only for his pit bull fighting dog, a bitch called China who gives birth to five puppies as the novel begins. Skeetah hopes to earn his fortune with this animal. Junior is a child, only concerned with play. But Esch has suddenly taken on some very adult concerns.

Esch started having sex with her brothers' friends when she was twelve years old, because it was easier to let them do what they wanted than it was to resist. She was a child. She didn't know she could say no. Now, at age fourteen, she realizes she is pregnant. What can she do? She is trapped.

Esch is such an interesting character. She loves literature. At one point, she recounts that in the previous year, her class had read William Faulkner's As I Lay Dying and that she was the only one in the class who understood Vardaman's one sentence chapter, "My mother is a fish." She is very proud of that. Moreover, she is now obsessed with Greek myths and keeps a volume under her mattress to read in bed. She particularly likes the story of Medea. She identifies with her because Medea had a brother named Jason, too. Reading all of this, truly, one's heart breaks for this child.

All of these concerns, though, are suddenly forgotten or at least pushed aside. Katrina has landed.

I read the last two chapters of this book, which cover the coming of the storm and its aftermath, in a blur of tears. The Batiste family's experience was that of so many thousands of others. They never thought the waters would reach as far as their home, but then water comes sloshing through the floorboards and over the doorsills. And it keeps rising. They seek refuge in their attic. The water rises with them and threatens to drown them there, but they escape through a hole in the roof, helping each other, clinging together, refusing to leave anyone behind. Even the dog.

This is harrowing reading, as is another section earlier in the book that describes the violence and cruelty of dog fights. A writer who can make poetry of the brutality of dog-fighting and of a monstrous killer storm is, as a famous spider would have written in her web, "Some writer!" Jesmyn Ward is some writer.

After the storm is over and the Batistes are still alive, Esch picks up shards left in its wake.
“I will tie the glass and stone with string, hang the shards above my bed, so that they will flash in the dark and tell the story of Katrina, the mother that swept into the Gulf and slaughtered. Her chariot was a storm so great and black the Greeks would say it was harnessed to dragons. She was the murderous mother who cut us to the bone but left us alive, left us naked and bewildered as wrinkled newborn babies, as blind puppies, as sun-starved newly hatched baby snakes. She left us a dark Gulf and salt burned land. She left us to learn to crawl. She left us to salvage. Katrina is the mother we will remember until the next mother with large, merciless hands, committed to blood, comes.” 
Yes. Yes. Yes!

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Friday, October 13, 2017

Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward: A review

What serendipitous timing. The day after I started reading her latest book, the announcement came that Jesmyn Ward was the recipient of one of this year's MacArthur "Genius" grants. Having now finished the book, I concur with MacArthur's assessment. Jesmyn Ward is a genius.

When this book first came out and was reviewed, I remember reading that Ward kept a copy of William Faulkner's Nobel Prize acceptance speech hanging above her desk. In that speech, he admonished writers to write from the heart and to wrestle with the immortal truths of "love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice." It's clear that she has fully internalized the message of those words. In Sing, Unburied, Sing, she has ticked each of those boxes of the immortal truths.

In this book as in her 2011 National Book Award-winning Salvage the Bones (still sitting in my reading queue waiting to be read), Ward takes us to Bois Sauvage, Mississippi, that Gulf Coast town that may eventually be as famous as Yoknapatawpha County in North Mississippi. There we meet 13-year-old Jojo and his toddler sister Kayla (Michaela) who live with and are cared for by their grandparents Mam and Pop. Flitting in and out of their lives is their drug-addicted mother, Leonie. The children's father, Michael, is in the state prison at Parchman.

Mam, Pop, and Leonie are African-American. Michael is white. Thus, the children are biracial. Their father's family refuses to accept them.

These two families are tangled together by more than the blood of the two children. Years before, Leonie's older brother, Given, was shot and killed by Michael's cousin. The two were on a hunting trip together with other teenage boys. The authorities chose to see the killing as a hunting accident, but in fact it was a racially motivated killing incited by the white man losing a bet to the black man. That unacknowledged crime continues to haunt the families.

Pop takes care of the homestead, the animals, the garden, and tries to teach Jojo how to be an honorable man. Jojo, in turn, cares for his young sister. Mam is bedridden, in the last stages of cancer. As she lies dying, her spirit is still a formidable presence in the lives of her family.

Mam has some mystical powers and is able to see and sense things beyond the natural world. Her daughter and the two grandchildren have some of the same powers, although Leonie's only seem to be manifested when she is high.

Soon after we meet the family, Leonie receives word that Michael is to be released from prison and she hatches a plan to take her children and her drug-buddy best friend on a road trip to pick him up. It's a plan that seems, frankly, doomed to disaster from the start.

Along the way, Leonie and her friend just can't resist a detour to get high and to pick up some drugs which may be intended for sale. Kayla gets sick and throws up repeatedly on herself and Jojo and the back seat of the car. Yes, it is a disaster.

Whenever Leonie is high, she sees her dead brother, Given. As the road trip nears Parchman, Jojo picks up his own ghost - a boy around his age named Richie. Richie had been incarcerated there at the same time that Pop was. (All the adult men in this story seem to have served time in Parchman.) Pop had been Richie's friend who had tried to protect him, and Richie senses his blood in Jojo and looks to him to help free his spirit so that he can finally be released from Parchman and "go home".

So, in addition to a dysfunctional family story and a road trip story, we get a ghost story. The ghosts will play an important role in the conclusion of this tale.

This is such a wrenching story, at times almost physically painful to read. At the same time, there is so much tenderness here, in the relationship between the young siblings and between Pop and the grandchildren and Mam and the grandchildren. It is surely created from the heart, as Faulkner exhorted, and it has the ring of truth.

This book reminded me in many ways of Faulkner's As I Lay Dying. It has the universal power of a Greek myth, and it makes poetry of the lives of the residents of the small, mostly poor, mostly black town of Bois Sauvage, a fictionalized version of Ward's own home town. 

Savage wood. Well-named.

My rating: 5 of 5 stars