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Lädt ... Let Us Descend: A Novel (Oprah's Book Club 2023) (2023. Auflage)von Jesmyn Ward (Autor)
Werk-InformationenLet Us Descend von Jesmyn Ward
![]() Keine aktuelle Diskussion zu diesem Buch. Let Us Descend, Jesmyn Ward, author and narrator There are few words I can use to describe the brilliance of this book; there is no good way for me to sum it up without revealing too much. Ward has described the horrors of slavery in such dramatic detail that the reader finds his or herself there, in the center of it all, as a witness to the barbarism. Because they were fed a starvation diet, beaten, and abused, subjected to nightmare punishments for whatever whim the owner decided to fulfill, because they were forced to suffer the breakup of their families and the loss of their friends, to endure being raped by the owner, sometimes even sold at his pleasure, many might have entertained thoughts of escape, but it always seemed foolhardy since it was so often futile with unimaginable punishment if caught. I asked myself, what kind of person could tolerate the destruction of humans, bit by bit? Who could treat humans so poorly, even worse than they treated their animals? With every new dawn, every next breath, the future was bleaker for a slave. There was no safe haven, yet there existed a desire for freedom that was unabating. The world of Arese/Annis is a nightmare world once her mother is sold, but it was not much better when they were together. Worked to the bone, practically starved, taken by the owner to pleasure himself, Arese was born to her mother after the owner raped her. Thus, although she was half-sister to the twin girls in the manor home, their lives were totally different. Arese used to stand by their door, listening to their tutor instruct them. It was in that secret pose that she learned of the expression from Dante’s descent into Hell, that she learned the worlds let us descend. Her mother educated her in the only way she could, she trained her in self-defense and told her to rise, not to descend! Her mother taught her that water was a friend, although it was water that carried her away from her home to this place of captivity. Would water one day save her? As Annis describes her life, one may be brought to tears or driven to anger. This, however, is a novel, and it tells the story of what took place in the past; there is no rectifying the horrifying lives of these captured people, thought of as less than, thought of as animals who felt nothing or animals that existed for the barbaric pleasure of cruel men and women. These captured humans suffered from every human indignity man could imagine. Rarely have I felt so moved by a novel. It held such a poetic beauty, as most of Ward’s books do, but this book was magical, filled with legends and spiritual visions. This book takes the readers with it, right into the realm of the slave, and they visibly witness and feel the pain and suffering first-hand, as if it was happening to themselves, and sometimes, even the reader wants it to end a bit more quickly. The author simply takes me places that I do not want to venture, but feel I must. She illustrates life and also the loss of life. She forces the reader to come to terms with the terrible choices slaves had to make, with the terrible lives they were forced to live, with the terrible people who tortured them, but she ends by offering a sliver of hope for the future. This is a very well written, poetic, spiritual and heart breaking story of Annis, a young teenage slave on a rice plantation in Virginia. When she refuses the advances of her owner, Annis and her mother are sold separately and Annis begins the long trek to New Orleans. Her strength and fortitude comes from her mother who taught her to fight and her grandmother who was an African warrior before she was enslaved and sent to America. Annis and her fellow slaves face incredible hardship as they walk in ropes and chains. They are starved and forced to walk in rain, mud, heat through swamps. The worst part is when still chained or roped they cross streams and rivers. They arrive at a New Orleans slave market where she is purchased by a sugar plantation owner. She becomes a house servant but like the other kitchen help is treated badly. Annis devotion and love for her mother are tested when her imagination evokes a spirit called Ada who pretends to be her Grandmother and encourages her to keep moving. This is a complex part of the story as I could not determine if Adam the spirit was friend or foe. Heart breaking story but well told. I have long admired Jesmyn Ward’s writing, especially Sing, Unburied, Sing. Ward’s latest novel, Let Us Descend, doesn’t reach those lofty heights but is still a creative, worthwhile read. The novel centers on Annis, the daughter of an enslaved woman who was raped by the plantation owner. Annis’ mother trains her to fight, as her African warrior grandmother once did before she, too, was sold into slavery. But a strong will and fighting skills are not enough to fend off the physical and sexual abuse inflicted by white people on enslaved people. After Annis’ mother is taken away and sold, Annis begins seeing a spirit named Aza, who takes the form of her grandmother. Annis calls on Aza to help her through a series of the hardships. Aza is inconsistent and no substitute for Annis’ mother, but their dialogue helps Annis find her way. I had difficulty suspending my disbelief over Aza’s character, and found the Aza-Annis dialogue difficult to follow at times. Ward’s literary talents were most on display when describing the horrors Annis endured, and the violent behavior of the white community. She doesn’t mince words, but stories like these need to be told and re-told, in hopes that as a society we will someday atone for this period in history. Annis is a slave on a plantation in Virginia. Her father is the plantation owner. When she rebuffs his advances she is sold further south. The journey to New Orleans is long and nearly unbearable. The scenes where the slaves are forced to cross rivers are awful. Upon reaching New Orleans, Annis is purchased by a woman who runs a sugar plantation. She is starved and worked mercilessly. She has a spirit, her grandmother Aza who watches over her. This is gut-wrenching, but probably a more true portrayal of slavery than what we usually are fed. keine Rezensionen | Rezension hinzufügen
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"Let Us Descend is a reimagining of American slavery, as beautifully rendered as it is heart-wrenching. Searching, harrowing, replete with transcendent love, the novel is a journey from the rice fields of the Carolinas to the slave markets of New Orleans and into the fearsome heart of a Louisiana sugar plantation. Annis, sold south by the white enslaver who fathered her, is the reader's guide through this hellscape. As she struggles through the miles-long march, Annis turns inward, seeking comfort from memories of her mother and stories of her African warrior grandmother. Throughout, she opens herself to a world beyond this world, one teeming with spirits: of earth and water, of myth and history; spirits who nurture and give, and those who manipulate and take. While Ward leads readers through the descent, this, her fourth novel, is ultimately a story of rebirth and reclamation." -- provided by publisher. Keine Bibliotheksbeschreibungen gefunden. |
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![]() GenresMelvil Decimal System (DDC)813.6Literature English (North America) American fiction 21st CenturyKlassifikation der Library of Congress [LCC] (USA)BewertungDurchschnitt:![]()
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The writing is poetic and atmospheric, magical realism that provides historical markers to the Placage women in NOLA and the life of St. Malo. At times for me the spirits slowed the pace of the plot but I don't pretend to not appreciate the talent of the author. I would recommend listening to her interviews regarding the years of exploration and revision of this work.
Lines:
Mama has always been a woman who hides a tender heart: a woman who tells me stories in a leaf-rustling whisper, a woman who burns like a sulfur lantern as she leads me through the world’s darkness, a woman who gives me a gift when she unsheathes herself in teaching me to fight once a month.
They sleep with their mouths open, pink scraped across their cheeks, their eyelids twitching like fish who swim in the shallows.
And everywhere, us stolen. Some in rope and chains. Some walking in clusters together, sacks on their backs or on their heads. Some stand in lines at the edge of the road, all dressed in the same rough clothing: long, dark dresses and white aprons, and dark suits and hats for the men, but I know they are bound by the white men, accented with gold and guns, who watch them. I know they are bound by the way they stand all in a row, not talking to one another, fresh cuts marking their hands and necks. I know they are bound by the way they wear their sorrow, by the way they look over an invisible horizon into their ruin.
The digging fingers of another as he assesses us for mating, brags about his bucks, about the fine ’ninnies we can make, about how much each would fetch, his words a steady bad wind carrying the stench of an animal carcass slaughtered and left to rot in the woods.
“What’s a plaçage woman?”
I sob into the earth. I offer to They Who Take and Give until I’m a hollow gourd: dry of sorrow, spiked with the dregs of memory.
Esther’s brother’s nose is a fin in his face, his eyes the bottom of the deepest part of a river, the black cool where the current cannot reach, where driftwood, whole trunks, sink to silt. His neck, even though he is almost as lean as us, is solid as a young pine.
“Blessing,” she says, and then she’s silent. I count the days since my last bleeding, and suddenly, I know what my reach for pleasure with Esther’s brother has done. I know what the soreness in my chest means. I know that there is a seed, a song, a babe coming to me. I put my hands on my stomach and rock. (