Monday, November 8, 2010

Book review: Two Anne Rinaldi stories about slavery

Now that I have a public library card, I figure I should start writing about the "fun" books I am reading. So, although I have been reading some thought-provoking books for class about slavery and race in American history, I'm going to post about young adult fiction instead.

Somehow I missed out on Anne Rinaldi when I was a historical-fiction loving tween. How did this happen? No matter, I am making up for lost time now. Recently I read two of her novels that deal with slave uprisings and the uneasy relationship white Americans had with their slaves. She did a good job of capturing the paternalism, friendship, rationalization, and fear that went through slave owners' minds. Her slave characters also inhabit a complex social network with conflicting ideas about loyalty, obedience, and freedom. These books offer young readers a more nuanced view of early American society than I have seen in a long time.

That being said, their plots could be better. The spunky young heroines have life-altering adventures in convoluted ways. Oh, and the use of very modern phrases startled me. (Maybe I am just a grad student snob ;-)
Here's a brief summary of each.

In The Letter Writer, young orphan Harriet Whitehead is growing up on her relatives' Virginia plantation. She spends her days writing dictated letters for her aunt and being BFFs with her maidservant. Nat Turner is an enslaved preacher in the area, and her interest in his work leads her to be an unwitting accomplice to his violent plans. The scenes of his uprising's killing spree are truly horrifying. But once the dust settles, we get a completely contrived fairy-tale ending involving some surprise paternity. BFF maidservant gets freedom, but Harriet's opinions on slavery are otherwise unchanged. At the novel's end, her staff assure her she has the makings of a fine plantation mistress. As repulsive as this arrangement might be to us readers, it is more historically probable than Harriet becoming an abolitionist.

The Color of Fire, on the other hand, is written from the view of young slave girl Phoebe. Her story is set during panics about slave rebellion in 1750s New York, events that I had never heard of. Phoebe's wealthy master trusts her, and so she has some mobility to get involved in the drama of mob violence and helping victims of the "witch hunt." The ensuing dilemmas and dangers are gripping, but there is just too much happening too fast. In a few short chapters, readers abruptly encounter secret priests, possible euthanasia, the grotesqueness of burning at the stake, and slaves seeking freedom as indentured servants to the Indians. Rinaldi drops readers into the action, leaving them without a mooring.

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