In 2007 at a Nashville yard sale what appears to be a very old cotton sack is found among other odds and ends of cloth. On this bag is this embroidered inscription:

“ My great grandmother Rose
mother of Ashley gave her this sack when
she was sold at age 9 in South Carolina
it held a tattered dress 3 handfulls of
pecans a braid of Roses hair. Told her
It be filled with my Love always
she never saw her again
Ashley is my grandmother
— Ruth Middleton, 1921”

Based on the last name embroidered on the bag, the finder donates it to the prestigious Middleton Place Foundation in Charleston, SC, a museum of an antebellum plantation.

Eventually it comes to the attention of historian Tiya Miles. She uses the very sketchy slave records of Middleton Plantation to try to trace Rose and her daughter Ashley (an unusual name for an ‘unfree’ person as Miles calls the enslaved). Although these names do not occur in the Middleton records, she does find them among the records of a nearby slave holder.

There are not many facts to be found. The genealogical line of the woman who did the embroidery died out two generations later without heirs. The contents of the sack are gone; it is empty.

And so Tiya details what she can find, speculates on events, and fills the book with details such as what this bag may have originally held, the only types of cloth unfree people were allowed to use for clothes, the meaning of wild pecan trees to Native people in the area, and the use of hair strands twisted into various ornaments for remembrance. Because of the paucity of facts available, at times she seems to be stretching points as she gives symbols to the colors of the embroidery Ruth Middleton used.

And yet, this empty sack and the story of the frightened nine-year-old girl sold away from her grieving mother never to see each other again, thoroughly captured my imagination. The sack is now on loan to the Smithsonian's National Museum of African American History – one of very few documented possessions of the unfree who, generally, weren’t allowed possessions. It’s a story that documents a moment in time but is witness to people untraceable earlier than this event and unknowable regarding the lives of both giver and receiver. It is totally searing and illuminates the atrocity of slavery. ( )

Tiya uses Ashley's bag to illuminate black history from South Carolina in the mid 1800s and beyond through five generations. I found the book very educational, though in some sections she circles around and around too much for my liking. ( )

In 1921, a young woman named Ruth embroidered a message on a cloth bag, documenting its history. The bag belonged to Ruth’s grandmother Ashley, whose mother Rose gave it to her in the 1850s when, as enslaved people, they were forcibly separated. Ashley was just 9 years old; Rose packed the bag with items that would sustain her and remind her of her heritage. Years later, the bag turned up in a thrift shop and eventually found its way to the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History and Culture.

Historian Tiya Miles conducted extensive research to learn more about these three women and the sack passed down through the generations. The historical record offered very little about Rose and Ashley, although Miles was able to connect a few dots in the public record and develop a credible hypothesis about where they were enslaved. Where specifics were lacking, she used writings by and about other women of that period to bring Rose and Ashley to life. These personal narratives, describing living conditions, sexual violence, separation of families, and the economics of slavery, were emotional and compelling.

Miles also seeks meaning in the sack, the objects it contained, and Ruth’s embroidery. Unfortunately, this is all based on supposition. Did Rose have advance warning of her separation from Ashley, allowing her to thoughtfully pack a bag? Did Ruth design her embroidery, specifically choosing lettering and thread colors for impact? Or did both women simply use whatever was closest at hand? Miles gets carried away, turning every act into a pivotal moment in history, and loses credibility in the process. Despite this rather significant flaw, this was an interesting portrayal of the lives of women during eras of enslavement and early freedom in the United States. ( )

This book had two main strengths for me. First, the idea of it; using a rare African-American family keepsake and the detective work around its origin as the basis for the whole study. Second, the way in which it brings home the horrors of slavery beyond our usual intellectual awareness of it by associating it with stories from the particular area where Ashley’s sack originated. On the other hand, the author’s often lengthy and florid prose, and her willingness to speculate about many different possible real and symbolic significances of every aspect of the sack and its contents (the textile used, the type of embroidery, the history of the pecan…) wore on me. ( )

“How do we discover past lives for whom the historical record is abysmally thin?” This is the problem faced by Harvard professor, Tiya Miles, as she writes about the lives of enslaved women.

The book is framed by an object: a cotton sack given by a woman named Rose to her nine-year-old daughter Ashley just before she was sold at a slave auction. The sack was filled with a tattered dress, three handfuls of pecans, a braid of Rose’s hair, and love for always. Rose’s great-granddaughter Ruth Middleton embroidered this information on the sack in 1920, adding that Rose and Ashley never saw each other again.

Genealogical research does reveal some information about these three women, but the author uses what is known about the lives of other Black women, enslaved and free, to speculate about Rose, Ashley and Ruth’s lives. In the introduction, Miles mentions her approach of “stretching historical documents, bending time, and imagining alternative realities.” Several times it seems that the author is guilty of over-reach in trying to make a connection. For instance, there is a 30-page discussion of clothing and only at the end is there a direct reference to the sack: “Rose may have hoped to capture some of this spirit when she put a dress in the sack for Ashley.”

There is a great deal of information in the book, though I found little that was new about the difficult lives of unfree women. For instance, the reader will learn about slavery in the Barbados, the settlement of South Carolina, and even the cultivation of pecans. The 66 pages of annotated endnotes attest to the amount of research Miles did. Unfortunately, what I wanted – more about Rose and Ashley – isn’t there.

What bothered me is that so much of the book is speculation. Many sentences begin with qualifiers like ”it was likely” and “perhaps” and “maybe.” At one point the author admits “We might or might not be in keeping with Ruth’s intentions in our haul of subterranean meanings.” This admission doesn’t stop the endless speculation which becomes increasingly irksome. The book is not fiction, but it is not exactly history either because of the speculation and the many examples of exaggerated symbolism. At one point, Miles asks, “Is it too far a stretch to see Ashley as a grafter, too, attaching the shoots of her new forced life onto the strong roots of memory that kept her mother close?” My answer is Yes. Later, she asks, “Would it be too far a stretch for us to consider that Ruth cast her own spell, in a sense, when she metamorphized a tattered sack into a writing surface?” Yikes!

There were times when this book reminded me of an essay written by a student who argues that every action and object in a novel is a symbol. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar; sometimes there is no deeper message or meaning to things. Miles thinks the cotton sack could be a protective spirit bag. Maybe it’s just a convenient vessel for carrying things? The section discussing the importance of hair is interesting, but then Miles concludes that “Hair is a tether between persons . . . and also a genetic tie to the past, as we now know. The symbolism of both meanings converge in Rose’s decision to pack her hair. In bestowing a braid upon Ashley, Rose passed on a piece of herself while transmitting a cosmic continuity that slavery could not sunder. Her gift might remind Ashley that she belonged – to a Black family that persevered through racial animus and a human family that had once not known it.” Would an enslaved person whose main concern would undoubtedly have been her and her daughter’s survival be thinking about the symbolism of what she packed?

Miles muses on the significance of Rose’s packing a tattered dress. Perhaps this is all that she could gift her daughter because this is all she had?! The author goes on to write that “unfree people sought material pleasures” and “Black men and women often dreamed of obtaining new clothing and footwear. Soft clothes and well-fitting shoes that honored their bodies . . . [and] signaled their essential worth.” Maybe they wanted some comfort and to be adequately clothed? Sometimes the symbolism changes: for white women, hoopskirts “symbolized femininity and luxurious excess” but for enslaved women they were “a symbolic shield for their bodies”?

Some of the symbolism suggests the author is really stretching her argument. Ruth used different colours of embroidery thread so Miles writes, “The brown thread of the opening lines gives way to green thread by the close, mimicking the loose form of an inverted family tree, with roots reaching back into the past and shoots fanning out into the future.” Ruth’s red thread “signifies at once the pain of slavery and the vibrancy of the beating heart.” Even the chain stitch used to sew the sack is “symbolic of the forced-labor ethos of the era.” Some of the author’s observations are such that even she admits to not noticing them: “A visit to the History Department at the University of Georgia . . . showered me with insights . . . and allowed me to see . . . that the shape of Ruth’s embroidered text may loosely resemble a heart.” The use of “may loosely” suggests a lack of conviction.

There is a lot of romanticizing. After describing the domestication of pecan trees, Miles concludes, “We can surmise . . . that Black people also felt a fondness for pecans as trees. They may have recognized the tree’s toughness in the face of assault, its adaptability to a range of habitats, and its tenacious ability to put down roots, no matter the quality of the soil. They may have looked to the wild pecan tree as an example of how to live long with steadfastness and dignity, even in inhospitable circumstances.”

Many of us cherish a hand-crafted heirloom; I have a couple of quilts my grandmother and mother made. My grandmother’s patchwork quilt was made of pieces of fabric from worn clothing belonging to family members. Using materials at hand, she made the quilt to provide warmth for the family she loved. I admire its artistry and the amount of work that went into its creation, and certain patches make me think of my now-deceased relatives. I do not, however, speculate on what was in my grandmother’s mind as she worked on that quilt. She used a skill she had to create something functional for people whom she undoubtedly cared about.

Many readers will have their understanding of enslaved women deepened and that is wonderful. I wouldn’t be surprised if the book were not allowed in some American schools because of its discussion of slavery. Whites do not emerge as heroes, and the author takes pains to point out that economic prosperity was the result of the work of enslaved Blacks. What bothered me is that much of the book is conjecture and guesswork with broad generalities and a lot of assumptions. Speculating about a person’s intent and emotions is risky, and weighting almost everything with symbolism is a form of romanticization that seems as unacceptable as using the word planter instead of slaveholder to “blur or romanticize historical roles . . . and [erase] the active violence of those who bought, sold, and legally possessed others.”

This book is classified as history but to me seems neither fiction nor non-fiction. I would have much preferred to read a historical novel imagining the lives of these women with the historical research giving the narrative authenticity. This seems more honest than using the imagination to write what is classified as history.

Note: Please check out my reader's blog (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/) and follow me on Twitter (@DCYakabuski). ( )