The American Slave Coast: A History of the Slave Breeding Industry (2017) by Ned and Constance Sublette

 Book Review

The American Slave Coast: 

A History of the Slave Breeding Industry (2017)

 by Ned and Constance Sublette

  I listened to the 30 hour Audiobook of this title over the last several months- took me a few check outs from the library and then waiting in between check-outs to finish it.  I checked it out because I've been reading about early American capitalism- cued by a recent trip to the Fairmont Copley Plaza (Boston) where I mused over the genesis of American fortune over Espresso martinis in their absurdly rococo hotel lobby bar/restaurant.    "Where does the money come from?" I mused to myself.   

   It comes from the exploitation of natural resources- lumber, stone, later oil and coal.  It came from shipping, where America quickly established itself in the farthest ports as a neutral trading partner.  And, as this book amply demonstrates, it came from the production and sale of human beings, slaves.  Not just in the south, slave BREEDING was close to being a raison d'etre for the original rebellion and a key facet of what kept the union together after the Civil War. 

   I won't recount the argument in full, which is NOT that there was some kind of breeding farm system in place- the authors investigate that allegation and find nothing but a few mentions and letters.  Indeed, slave breeding was both casual and highly complex and integrated with American (and global capitalism) but the key to understanding the narrative here is that the US acted early to band the FOREIGN IMPORTATION of slaves at the behest of the Virginia political class (slave owners) who made money selling their excess bodies to the cotton growing regions in Mississippi and Louisiana.

  They were facilitated by a class of middle men who operated in the north- cotton factories, factors for cotton production and shippers as well as those who operated in the middle- Maryland and Washington DC were the site of "slave jails" where run away slaves (and occasionally kidnapped free men) were sent back to the south.

  The main thesis here is that slavery was not some outlier in America, but rather an economic activity that helped provide the economic basis for the rapid expansion of the American economy- all of it.

   

Solar Bones (2016) by Mike McCormack

 Boo Review

Solar Bones (2016)

by Mike McCormack

   Solar Bones written by Irish author Mike McCormack only contains a single sentence.  It does contain many paragraph breaks, but no periods.  It takes the form of a reminisce by Marcus Conway, who is (I learned from Wikipedia after finishing the book), a spirit who has returned to his kitchen table on All Souls Day.   Something that Wikipedia does not mention is that Conway likely died as a result of a global pandemic that claims his wife during the recollections of the book.   There are just hints of the impending apocalypse- his wife sweating and vomiting her way to death in the bedroom as Conway talks to his alarmist children in different parts of the world.

   McCormack won the 2016 Goldsmith's award for this book and he made the 2017 International Booker longlist, but again, the fact that is a formally challenging, modernist-technique influenced book really dampens the recommendation appeal.  Based on what I know, books like Solar Bones have a zero percent casual readership a month after the New York Times writes its rave review.  People just don't want to be really challenged in their reading comprehension by their literary fiction.  They don't seek it out.

What I'd Rather Not Think About (2024) by Jente Posthuma

 Book Review

What I'd Rather Not Think About (2024)

by Jente Posthuma

Translated by Sarah Timmer Harvey

   The Dutch have been doing all right in the Booker International Prize this past decade. Lucas Rijneveld won back in 2020 for The Discomfort of Evening which was... dark.   Now we've got another Dutch author on this years longlist- I realize by the time this post publishes we will know about the short list, but I'm writing this before that list is announced.  What I'd Rather Not Think About is a work about a pair of fraternal twins- "One" is the older twin, a gay man.  "Two" is the younger, and the narrator, a cis, straight woman. 

   Basically, One commits suicide by riding his bike directly into a canal and drowning (he leaves a note so we know it's suicide).  Such a Dutch way to kill yourself!  Two spends the rest of the book recounting her memories and trying to make sense of what, even by the standards of literary suicide, seems like a random act of self-violence.  Despite the recounting of the off-hand type of comments everyone makes at one point or another ("I wish I was dead." level stuff), there is nothing in the rest of What I'd Rather Not Think About that explains this central act- viewed, rightfully, as an act of abandonment and betrayal, by the narrator.

  Despite the dark subject matter, What I'd Rather Not Think About is a breezy read, easily tackled in an afternoon.  Doesn't seem like a Booker International Shortlist title to me.

The Swan Book (2018) by Alexis Wright

 Book Review

The Swan Book (2018)

by Alexis Wright

  I was pretty impressed by Praiseworthy, by indigenous-Australian author Alexis Wright, and published this year.  I didn't love reading Praiseworthy, but I was still impressed because how often does a 672 page stream-of-consciouses'(multiple viewpoints) by an indigenous-Australian writer get picked up for American publication.  Just about never I'm thinking.  The ambition of an author writing in the 2020's who has the fucking balls to write a 670 page novel and hand it in.   It's just impressive and worthy of note.

  I've adopted a specific reading technique for technically challenging/lengthy works of literary fiction:  I don't really start paying close attention until I'm at least 10% through the Ebook/audiobook or 100 pages into a physical copy.  Maybe I don't entirely get what's going on, but with longer books that is often because there is some kind of preamble that doesn't tie to the main text and with technically challenging titles it's the lack of guideposts that create the confusion, so paying more attention isn't necessarily the answer. 

   That was an approach that really paid off in Praiseworthy and I also put it to use for The Swan Book, which is similarly challenging but not as long and is also about climate dystopia and child marriage.  I didn't get too upset about the fact that I had little idea what was going on for most of the book. There is a guy- and he is indigenous, but he is also like, the head of the Australian government, and there is like, a reservation-prison-nation for the indigenous people in Australia and there is a girl who lives in a polluted lake, and he goes there- the politician- and basically kidnaps her and forces her to marry him and then they go on a road trip into the Australian outback, and he destroys the indigenous reservation-prison-nation for some reason and then he gets murdered and his child-bride has to figure out what to do with herself. 

  At some point you get enough context so that the beginning of the book makes sense. Ive a great admiration for novels that use the complicating techniques of literary modernism in contemporary literary fiction but in the context of a blog its hard to recommend to a member of the general reading public, "Yeah, go out and read this book that hardly makes sense." Of course, it DOES make sense, but you have to read the whole book to figure it all out.