Monday, April 30, 2012

The Book of Negroes, by Lawrence Hill


Uncomfortably-racist fun-fact for the Day Number 1:  The Encyclopedia Britannica had this to say about the ‘Negro Race’ in 1881:

“[The African race occupied] the lowest position of the evolutionary scale, thus affording the best material for the comparative study of the highest anthropoids and the human species… [these anthropoid features include, among others] “the abnormal length of the arm, which in the erect position sometimes reaches the knee pan… [the] weight of brain, as indicating cranial capacity, is 35 ounces (highest gorilla 20, average European 45), a short flat snub nose, thick protruding lips, exceedingly thick cranium, short, black hair, eccentrically elliptical or almost flat in sections, and distinctly wooly, [and] thick epidermis.”  (Encyclopaedia Britannica, 1884, p. 316)

Uncomfortably-racist fun-fact for the Day Number 2:  The Encyclopedia Britannica had this to say about the ‘Negro Race’ in 1941:

“Negro, the American: A New Race… Many characteristics, such as susceptibility to tuberculosis, syphilis, and other diseases, lack of initiative and responsibility, which were once thought to be typical of the Negro, are now credited by the best students to the conditions of his environment… The Negro is typically expressive; he sings and plays and dances and handles language with abandon and an artistry which hardly can be attributed alone to circumstances in which he has commonly lived…  In commerce Negroes have as yet made little headway.”  (Encyclopaedia Britannica, 1941, v. 16, p. 194)

The 1941 edition also runs on for seven pages with all sorts of uncomfortably-racist fun facts about “Negro Music,” “Negro Art,” “Negro Drama,” and “Harlem.”  Granted, the 1941 edition is clearly trying NOT to be racist, but it is a product of its time.

I was reminded of these definitions (that I found during a 4th year History seminar on the cultural ‘other’) while reading Lawrence Hill’s The Book of Negroes.  This book has been sitting on my shelf for years, and it was just recently that I picked it up for the first time.  It is an amazing read.

Telling the life story of Aminata Diallo, Hill takes the reader from a small African village where Aminata grew up, to the slave factory that exported her to the American colonies, to her life as a slave and later as a free woman, and finally to her contribution to the Abolitionist movement in England in the 1830s.  It sounds like a lot, and it is, but many of those points were common experiences to the early black-population in North America.

There are two interesting dynamics that are worth mentioning about reading this book; the first is that I didn’t feel alienated during the reading.  That’s going to take some explaining, so don’t get all upset with me just yet.  Here’s my rational for that statement: I’m white; I’m the product of two of North America’s colonial empires; and I am rarely sympathetic to the cries of the 99% (not because I’m heartless, but because I work too damned hard to have the energy to care about their cause).  I had expected this story of slavery to make me a little uncomfortable, but Hill’s tale is far from being about pointing fingers – it’s clear that he intends it to be a (fictionalized) account of an ‘ordinary’ life.  

Not once did I feel that the race-card was played in this work, but the message of equality was clear, for which Hill should be commended.  In our modern world, where race is still a contributing factor to a lot of our interactions with one another, I often find myself on shaky ground – not because I’m racist, but because I’m so far from it that I treat everyone equally and often lack the sensitivity required to deal with touchy, racially charged situations.  Past experience is teaching me to be more cautious and weary of potential situations where I may come across as less than sensitive to race-issues that I am, so going into Hill’s work, I was worried that I would experience some hyper-sensitivity that would ruin the reading of it for me.  But this was far from the case.  Rather, I think I was able to relate to Animata as a woman and a human being.  Her race was the impetus for the story, but not the focus of it.

The second point is a word about collaborators.  History is full of collaborators, and they are usually the villains in the final versions of the stories we historians tell.  Hill’s work made me think that this dynamic deserves a re-examining.  As Animata demonstrates, it is so easy to fall into assisting your captures without any intention or malice; and sometimes, it is an easy role to adopt because it makes your life bearable.  Is it ideal?  No.  Is it always right?  Of course not.  But there are times when no other options present themselves and during which a human being has to make the best decision for their own life.  Animata’s story sees her in the collaborator’s role once or twice, but never does she have a crisis of self-doubt over it – she’s fighting to stay alive in a wholly hostile environment, and she succeeds.  While the term ‘collaborator’ applies to Animata, remember that history is written by the victors – Animata is the one telling this tale, so clearly her involvement with her captures contributed to her personal victory.  

Final verdict?  This is a great book, and I understand all the acclaim it got.  Lawrence Hill is a historian first and a novelist second, and The Book of Negroes is demonstrative of this.  His history is amazingly rich without making you feel like you’re sitting in a lecture hall, and he has created characters who ride the tides of this history with an honest sincerity that is touching on many levels.  I highly recommend that you take the time to read this book.  

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