When you pick up a book and the cover has comments from notable authors, like Michael Eric Dyson saying this is a brilliant first book, or Nikki Giovanni saying that there is a “magic in the story, in the telling”, you immediately think (or at least I do), that this book HAS to be great. Then you read the story line –the main character, TJ, a young African American man, leaves his home in Swamp Creek, Arkansas at 18 in order to pursue his dreams, whatever they may be. He returns, 10 years later, with a PhD in African American Studies and ready to confront the demons that sent him away.
In Daniel Black’s “They Tell Me of a Home”, the story line seems great - not only did he leave home – he didn’t tell anyone where he was going and during his time away, he never contacted his family– not even his beloved sister. He gets home and finds out that his sister, the one he came back for is dead and has been buried in the back yard, right outside of the kitchen. His mother hardly acknowledges his presence and his brother asks – where have you been, you know our sister was waiting for you to return. His father, the one he ran away from out of sheer fear, was the most welcoming one. Sounds good right?
That is, until you get into the details. His mother, he learns is not his mother. His father brought him home to her, after an affair and asked her to please raise him. Okay, that explains the hatred he says his mother has for him (in his mind it does). But still no one will tell him, why his sister is dead and who his real mother is.
From here the story gets worse – he finds that his real mother is his beloved teacher, who wants him to stay in Swamp Creek and teach the children (although the book is set in the early 70’s apparently, Swamp Creek still has a one room school house with one teacher who teaches all grades). He doesn’t find out she’s his mother until AFTER she dies; he goes to visit her and his ‘brother’ greets him and tells him the truth.
Finally, he learns what happened to his sister. She was pregnant, his momma, who was not his momma, got so mad, she killed the girl. His brother, tells him this much but at the end of the book, he tells the full story – not only was she pregnant, his brother was the daddy. How does he tell his brother of the incest? He says, “we was gonna name the baby after you”.
We have all read and heard stories of “odd” things happening in the South. Children finding out in adulthood that their mother was really their aunt is not at all uncommon. However, stories, of incest? I know they happen, but, a “planned” affair between a brother and sister? And as much as I like to live the fantasy that is often found in a book - how is Swamp Creek allowed to have a one room school house
And during all the “telling” of the story, the writing is horrible. The negro ‘dialect’ is used, which I cannot stand. I hated it when Mark Twain did it in Huckleberry Finn and I still hate it. I think we are all well read enough to be able to hear the dialect in the words. Not only that, these same characters who use this dialect, will turn a phrase that the most educated of us probably won’t use. A phrase here and there is fine, but I shouldn't need a negro thesaurs to figure out what the heck the characters are talking about.
I won’t omit the fact that there WERE some very funny parts in the book. The far-fetched stories that we all grew up hearing, the way we get together after a funeral and it ends up being a family reunion. And how there is always one uncle (or 2) who in spite of the occasion have a “taste” and get to talking a bunch of trash.
The funniest thing to me is that in spite of how much I despised this book, I could NOT put it down. I wanted to KNOW what happened and I was so disappointed when I found out. I was able to skip around and read enough to figure out the story. I wouldn’t have read as much as I did, had I not been waiting for another book……
Sorry, Mr. Black, I really tired to like your book. I just couldn’t. However, according to the reviews on Amazon, I am in the minority on that issue. But that’s the beauty of blogging – you can express your own opinion…..
