Reviews
Unblinking Terror
Amherst College Books
What They Are Reading
Soul by Soul: Life Inside the Antebellum Slave Market. By Walter Johnson '88. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1999. 283 pp. $15.95 paperback.
In pre-Civil War years the biggest slave market in the country was in New Orleans, where at one time there were 19 busy "yards." For many years some of the traders there displayed their human merchandise out on the street. But in 1852 the city's Second Municipality finally banned the practice and the slaves were moved inside, behind walls, out of view—because, explained the Daily Orleanian, "Scarcely anyone desires to pass such places." It troubled whites in the slaveholding South to walk past street-sold commodities that could look you cold in the eye.
In this superb work of history, Walter Johnson '88, a professor at New York University, brings the terrible realities of the slave trade into open view, reporting the whole spectrum of its tawdry practices, its breakup of families, its chilling crimes against humanity. He's drawn his graphic account from a wealth of sources including slaveholders' letters, narratives of former slaves, acts of sale, and revealing docket records that were not discovered until the 1980s in a courthouse basement. Soul by Soul exposes "the daily process by which two million people were bought and sold over the course of the antebellum period." Johnson notes that contrary to the popular image "most of the slaves were not sold quickly at large public auctions but in extended private bargains made in the slave pens maintained by slave dealers."
How were these markets supplied? As agriculture faltered economically in the slave states of the upper South, it spread and flourished in the lower South, so that slaves were increasingly sold from one region and moved to the latter, taken by traders who marched them southwest in guarded coffles. "Bound two-by-two along a long length of chain, the men came first; behind them, unbound by chains, the women [and children] would follow," Johnson relates. "Women, the traders believed, were less likely to run away than men. . . . Three to five men would oversee coffles that sometimes ran upwards of a hundred slaves." The overland trip could take seven or eight weeks.
The threat of being sold was, of course, pure terrorism. Soul by Soul cites one slave's recollection that his plantation mistress "used to call us children up to the big house every morning and give us a dose of garlic and rue to keep us 'wholesome,' as she said, and make us 'grow likely for the market.'"
It was a wrenching day when the sale came. When owners sold the wife of Moses Grandy, for instance, he met the trader at the head of his wife's coffle: "I asked leave to shake hands with her which he refused, but said I might stand at a distance and talk with her. My heart was so full that I could say very little . . . I gave her the little money I had in my pocket, and bade her farewell. I have never seen or heard of her from that day to this. I loved her as I loved my life." Johnson estimates that, of the more than 600,000 interstate sales the traders made before the Civil War, 25 percent involved the destruction of a first marriage like the Grandys' and 50 percent destroyed a nuclear family—many separating children from their parents.
Once the coffles reached the slave pens, he tells us, traders "increased rations of bacon, milk, and butter, a fattening diet one trader referred to as 'feeding up.'" Displayed in showrooms, the slaves were required to walk, dance, sometimes even leap and tumble to demonstrate their fitness. They also faced prospective buyers' prodding fingers and questions. Former slave L. M. Mills remembered that "When a Negro was put on the block he had to help sell himself by telling what he could do. If he refused to praise himself and acted sullen, he was sure to be stripped and given thirty lashes."
Another eyewitness, John Brown, related that in at least one New Orleans pen "the youngest and handsomest females were set apart as the concubines of the masters." Buyers sometimes purchased
female slaves mainly for sex. Most of the slaves were destined, though, to be field hands or servants. Buyers and dealers had a taxonomy for the trade: blacker slaves were thought to be healthier and stronger, best for grueling work in the fields; those lighter in color were preferred for household service.
The price of slaves rose and fell with the price of cotton. One trader, Tyre Glen, paid for young male slaves literally by the pound. Court records showed the different factors that were involved in setting prices. The records sometimes revealed more than was intended: "Being asked if the girl had a filter on her eye if it would impair her value, [slave trader David Wise testified in 1852 that] it would impair its [sic] value from $25 to $40."
This book has won top awards from professional associations, including the American Studies Association and the Organization of American Historians. And little wonder, for it is an unsettling, necessary, unforgettable study—a book that looks you cold in the eye.
—D.W.
A View from the Mangrove. By Antonio Benítez-Rojo, Thomas B. Walton Jr. Memorial Professor. Translated by James Maraniss, Professor of Spanish. Amherst, Mass.: University of Massachusetts Press, 2000. 243 pp. $16.95 paperback.
Perhaps it is because we hear little of the Caribbean in everyday life—outside the context of Fidel Castro and beach vacations in Jamaica—that the voices in this collection of 11 stories feel so unexpected and original. But more true is that Benítez-Rojo knows the Caribbean so deeply that he can create characters and language as surprising and nuanced as an island breeze. The reader is left musing the undercurrents—temperature, humidity, velocity—of mood, conversation and setting. For us in New England it's like discerning a warm day in late September: If felt without benefit of a calendar, would one judge it summer, spring or fall?
The characters themselves in A View from the Mangrove are far from carefree. They are tortured souls struggling to determine the best way to extract from the sweltering landscape their life's promise—the coconut's milk. These characters reflect the complicated history of the Caribbean islands, the colonialism that marked both their death and gruesome rebirth: the extermination of native populations; the slave trade; the squalor of remote settlements; environmental and human exploitation in the name of industry; and finally, their meteoric rise to economic importance, slow slide into near obscurity and subsequent struggles to preserve and rediscover identity.
Toward this last end, Benítez-Rojo uses narrative styles and points of view he describes as "polyrhythmic," changing "radically from one story to another." In "Full Moon in Le Cap," a murder is told "in scene," present tense, from the mouths of seven different characters—the chasers, the victim, the bystanders. Sometimes within the same story, in "Heaven and Earth," for example, the narrator, a Haitian immigrant who fights against Cuba's Batista, speaks as "I" and also of himself in the third person. The fluidity of viewpoints seems to derive from the region's steamy heat, from the delusions of power and dreams of escape that cause the narrators to be confused about whether they are actors in their own experiences or if they are watching their lives play out from a distance. With the exception of the returned soldier in "Heaven and Earth," the collection's narrators are not from where they find themselves. They are Spanish, French and English pirates and colonists greedily elbowing their way into the trades of slaves and tobacco—getting drunk on wine and giving lashes to Negroes; a guilt-ridden and lusty priest temporarily stationed on Hispaniola; a Marxist-Leninist Haitian in Cuba. Whether from cowardice or wisdom they step outside their sweating skins and tell a little from another side, moving forward and backward in time.
The effect of this narrative rotation is the same as looking through any prism. The reader learns to question the authenticity of all statements. This can mean a delicious lingering at a story's end, especially in the case of the last three, where a second reading is enlightening, and even richer than the first. "Marina 1936" is the only piece in Part II of the collection, and it is a multi-layered, allegorical tale told from the maturing eye of a young boy on a boat. A boat so expansive as to include the spectrum of human archetypes and class divisions—the privileged class, the governors, the workers, the slaves—arbitrarily assigned to their roles by the ship's layout and confined in their wanderings according to status; some members of its community believe the ark to have been Noah's. Benítez-Rojo writes: "One thing was certain: nobody could be sure when and from where we had sailed, not even what the purpose of our trip was." The boy narrator, Julián Ocampo, grows out of his childhood and loses his innocence over the course of the story; "the mutinous Cisneros," who once appeared revolutionary and wise, morphs into a sad old crazy man in the eyes of Ocampo's peers; and the kids cease to believe in the "islands" of mountains and cities they used to reach by frantic rowing from their anchorless ship: "We played at discovering the 'island' only some mornings now." The symbolic level of the story is realized upon first reading; but a second deepens one's appreciation of its brilliance.
Sorting through chronology did not produce this admiration for all of the collection's stories. Several pieces in the first half examine the lives of corsairs and colonists, and I could not be enticed into imagining their bargains and betrayals. The nuances of strategy escaped me and the conversations felt contrived. The vicious opportunism of these Europeans is inescapable, though, and they are mercilessly drawn as crude and hardened with racist, sexist and elitist disdain for anyone other than themselves. It seems the author's attitude toward colonization can be summed up in the following: "But Puerto Plata. . . almost bordered on the land of treasurers, inspectors, magistrates, constables, captains, mayors, planters, merchants, lenders, slave traders, notaries, and bishops and archbishops, priors and precentors, the crème de la crème of the very shit itself, the New World shit, colonial shit, the worst shit of all because it has no self-awareness, doesn't smell itself." (The next paragraph begins "A whiff of copal [incense]. . . .")
Even in pieces that seem more intent on historical explication than meaty narrative the descriptions are vivid and often stunning—an effect certainly conveyed by Maraniss's precise translation, especially impressive in nautical and religious vocabulary. The coastal city of Veracuz has "low, darting clouds that unraveled like old bedsheets; behind them a fugitive sun that took on strange appearances, now a copper coin, now a yellow woolen tassel, and the waves were swelling on the ocean, curling at the top, their cadence quickening." Dense, precise language characterizes the psychic landscapes as well—hopes and illusions of grandeur and the despair on their heels.
This collection of narratives is remarkable for its ability to eradicate any tendencies to romanticize colonization or imagine a pacific Caribbean. The love and the mystery are found, especially in the last three stories, in the reader's mid-sentence pauses, the section breaks and the re-readings, where the sun-bared thickets of mangroves are the stewing juices for the inevitable failings of will and triumphs of greed, for characters who once doubted nothing and now distrust everything, for therein lie the riches.
—Jennifer Acker '00
Amherst College Books
Ermengard of Narbonne and the World of the Troubadors. By Fredric Cheyette, Professor of History. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2001. 496 pp. $35 hardcover.
A remarkable woman warrior, Ermengard, ruled the city and viscounty of Narbonne (in what is now southern France) for a full 50 years during the 12th century, from 1144 to 1194. She negotiated treaties, settled disputes among lords and became well known for her political prowess. Cheyette's book is a biography of this woman leader and also an account of the society and culture of her region, Occitania—ultimately destroyed by the Albigensian Crusade early in the 13th century.
Japanese Sports: A History. By Allen Guttmann, Emily C. Jordan Professor of English and American Studies, and Lee Thompson. Honolulu, Hawaii: University of Hawaii Press, 2001. 368 pp. $24.95 paperback.
This historical volume tells the story of athletics in the island nation, from the origins of sumo wrestling in the eighth century through the arrival of modern sports in the Meiji period to the introduction of typically "Californian" sports like wind-surfing. The authors report that both modern and ancient sports are heralded in Japan; enthusiasts abound for martial arts and baseball alike. The book also describes the history of physical education in Japan, the development of amateur and professional sports leagues, the growth of business and media in sports promotion, and the country's involvement in the Olympics.
Ebb Tide. By Robert L. DeWitt '37. Cohoes, N.Y.: Thorofare Press, 2001. 126 pp. $15 paperback.
Detailing his wife's descent into Alzheimer's disease, DeWitt wrote this personal account for his family and friends. The story's roots are in a long and loving marriage, the raising of five children, retirement to a small island off the coast of Maine and the pleasures of gardening, boating and taking walks. For Bobbie DeWitt early signs of forgetfulness grew into serious degeneration, and her husband recalls what these transitions were like in an honest attempt to enlighten and share the experience with others affected by this devastating disease.
The Marriage of Anna Maye Potts. By Dewitt Henry '63. Knoxville, Tenn.: University of Tennessee Press, 2001. 224 pp. Hardcover.
Long known as an essayist and editor, and co-founder of Ploughshares literary magazine, Henry has published his first novel. It is the story of a working-class Philadelphia woman whose life is upset by the death of her father and her younger sister's takeover of the family home. The protagonist is forced out of the house and soon develops an unusual relationship—which becomes a marriage—with an older co-worker. She struggles to legitimize her place in her new husband's life and restore her own inner strength.
Destination: The American Dream. By Hugh B. Price '63. New York, N.Y.: National Urban League, 2001. 407 pp. $24.95 paperback.
The National Urban League has worked for nearly a century to remedy some of the country's most pressing problems of racial, social and economic injustice. This volume collects the speeches and writings of Price, president and chief executive of the organization, including addresses to forums across the country and a letter to President Clinton. Price treats such contentious and important issues as affirmative action, welfare reform, economic development and police misconduct, offering analysis and suggestions for future action.
Jazz Country: Ralph Ellison in America. By Horace Porter '72. Iowa City, Iowa.: University of Iowa Press. 192 pp. $29.95 paperback.
In this personal and literary analysis, Porter uses jazz music as a lens to view Ralph Ellison's writings and interpretations of American culture. Jazz is given predominance as a key source of inspiration for the writer in this first reassessment of Ellison after his death and the posthumous publication of Juneteenth, his second novel. Ellison wrote numerous essays and comments on legendary figures such as Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington and Charlie Parker; Porter examines these and highlights the writer's friendship with fellow artists and jazz fans; and presents Ellison's own vision of an America characterized, like jazz, by improvisation, individualism and infinite possibility.
Law of Internet Disputes. By David W. Quinto '77. New York, N.Y.: Aspen Law & Business, 2001. $165,
looseleaf.
An intellectual property and Internet litigation lawyer, Quinto has written this looseleaf volume as a reference for lawyers investigating Internet-related transactions. The work is organized by problem type and gathers all relevant laws, rules, regulations and technology solutions. Disputes treated by Quinto include domain name, copyright, privacy and personal jurisdiction.
Vital Forms: American Art and Design in the Atomic Age, 1940-1960. By Brooke Kamin Rapaport '84 and Kevin L. Stayton. Brooklyn, N.Y.: Brooklyn Museum of Art. 256 pp.
This full-color catalog showcases the artworks collected and organized by Rapaport and Stayton for the Vital Forms exhibition at the Brooklyn Museum of Art, which opened October 11, 2001. The presentation is the third in a series at the museum, preceded by The American Renaissance and The Machine Age. Vital Forms is the first-ever exhibition of visual arts created using organic form, a design that flourished during and after World War II, and that examines the works' cultural and historical relationship to the time period.
Blackjack. By Ellen Feld, academic coordinator for the department of physics at Amherst. South Deerfield, Mass.: Willow Bend Publishing, 2001. 177 pp. $7.95 paperback.
Written for young adults, this novel explores the emotional world of horse and girl. A beautiful Morgan horse named Blackjack is the star, and his 15-year-old rider, Heather, is dedicated to caring for him and training together for horse shows— events where effort is often more important than winning.
—Compiled by Jennifer Acker '00
What They Are Reading
Amanda and Lisa Cross Professor Robert C. Hilborn teaches physics at Amherst and is associate dean of the faculty. He has a special interest in teaching courses for non-scientists and introducing some history of science into courses for science majors. Here he discusses a particular type of science history:
The scientific autobiography is a hybrid genre, combining elements of the standard autobiography with writing about science and its discoveries. This genre is fascinating because it provides a window into the world of scientific discovery, allowing us to see behind the scenes, so to speak. Such books let us peer behind the wall erected by the scientific community and re-enforced by the editors of most scientific journals. This conspiracy bars writing about motivation, mistakes, and personalities from the professional scientific literature. The scientific autobiography addresses those issues ignored in research journals: What motivated the research? How do the personality quirks and personal histories of scientists affect what problems they study and how they study them? What is the role of guessing, blunders, and happy accidents in scientific discovery? Here is a sampling of four recent books that tackle these issues.
Robert Greenler, Chasing the Rainbow: Recurrences in the Life of a Scientist (Printstar Books, 2000).
Greenler, recently retired from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, is an expert
on light and optics, particularly as manifested in natural phenomena such as rainbows, halos, and glories. His earlier book Rainbows, Halos and Glories (Cambridge University Press, 1980) was a classic with beautiful photographs, many taken by the author, from the Arctic to the Antarctic illustrating these fascinating displays of light. Greenler's creativity as a scientist is matched by his flair as a raconteur, and this collection of essays illuminates a career as scientist, teacher, president of the Optical Society of America, and founder of the famous Science Bag lecture series, which introduced several generations of Milwaukee-area residents to the joys of science.
Stuart Kauffman, At Home in the Universe: The Search for the Laws of Self-Organization and Complexity (Oxford University Press, 1995).
With a MacArthur Fellowship under his belt, Kauffman has the hubris to tackle one of the big questions in science: Are the basic laws of science sufficient to explain the stunning biological complexity around us? Kauffman argues that evolution and natural selection are not sufficient. The newly emerging laws of self-organization, he claims, drive the development of biological complexity. All we need is stuff and the flow of energy—self-organization and complexity will emerge spontaneously. This book, while somewhat less autobiographical than Greenler's, shows how simple ideas from physics and mathematics might eventually (the final story is far from complete) lead to an understanding of how we came to be at home in the universe.
Brian Green, The Elegant Universe (W. W. Norton, 1999).
Green's book has developed something of a cult following. A leading theoretical physicist with the charisma and charm required to keep a TV audience's attention, Green has taken on the Herculean task of explaining to the general public the latest attempt to provide a fundamental "theory of everything." For Green and his colleagues, a theory of everything is a theory that explains the basic building blocks of matter and the forces that govern the motion of matter. (Using that fundamental theory to explain the structure of atoms, semiconductors, DNA, and pizza is left as an exercise for future scientists.) The most recent attempt to construct such a theory uses the notion that all of matter can be understood as the vibrations of fundamental objects known as strings (more recently generalized to membranes). Green has been in the thick of the attempt to formulate and understand these so-called string theories—theories that push the limits of our understanding of space, time, and mathematics. This elegantly written book, already somewhat out-of-date in this rapidly developing field, provides both a good introduction for the general reader and a glimpse into the life of a scientist focusing on theories, where even the right questions, let alone the answers, are obscure.
Walter J. Freeman, How the Brain Makes Up Its Mind (Columbia University Press, 2000).
How does the brain, a messy collection of fluids, chemicals, and nerve cells, think? Freeman, an established neuroscientist, brings two ideas to the table. First, he argues that concepts from chaos theory (more generally known as nonlinear dynamics) give us a framework for understanding how signals from sensory neurons get translated into perceptions in the brain. Notions such as chaotic behavior, unstable trajectories, and strange attractors give us a way of thinking about how neurons get themselves organized into patterns of nerve firings that signal that we are thinking about algebra or a Monet painting or Pink Floyd. Freeman's second notion is that the brain itself—without outside stimulus—generates intentions that shape our perceptions. Understanding how these intentions are developed is key to understanding thinking. Freeman's book lets us see how a mature scientist tries to re-establish attention on the "big picture" in a field that has become dominated (and even obsessed) with the microscopic details of phosphorlyation sites, dopaminergic autoreceptors, and MAO inhibitors (to quote recent articles in Science dealing with brain research).