What do you think?
Rate this book


216 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1899
Twelve years ago, I picked up a copy of The Tales of Uncle Remus, by Joel Chandler Harris, a white journalist from Atlanta, Georgia. Beginning in 1876, Harris used animal fables (Br’er Rabbit, Br’er Fox, et al.) to entertain readers with folk tales collected among Cherokees and formerly enslaved Black people with Caribbean roots. Br’er Rabbit is a trickster, with a heritage going back to Africa. The animals speak in a dialect adapted from the African American dialect Chander heard in Georgia.
Harris meant well. His life had been disrupted by Sherman’s march, which ruined the plantation where Harris was employed as a printer. He had witnessed Reconstruction and sought racial reconciliation. His popular tales were not intended to ridicule Black people. Nevertheless, after his death, white people used his characters as stereotypes that denigrated African Americans. Moreover, Black critics such as author Alice Walker (in 1981), said Harris "stole a good part of my heritage . . . by making me feel ashamed of it.” Thus, the Uncle Remus stories have been judged as racist.
Against this backdrop and after so many years, I finally came across some similar tales in the writing of Charles W. Chestnutt, who identified as Black though being of mixed race, could pass as white. The Foreword by Dr. Sandra M. Grayson places The Conjure Woman broadly in the genre of science fiction. I found the extensive “New Introduction” by Dr. Piper Huguley indispensable preparation for reading these stories. I would even call it a prerequisite both for making sense of these tales and for differentiating them from the tales of Uncle Remus.
In Chestnutt’s work, it’s Uncle Julius who tells the tales, but only within narrative framework of a young white man, John, who has brought his wife Ann from the North to settle on a former plantation in central North Carolina. There John and Ann meet Julius, an aged, formerly enslaved man who has stayed at the plantation and who recollects the stories of “conjuration,” which are the substance of the book.
Chestnutt began publishing his Uncle Julian stories in Atlantic magazine eleven years after Harris started putting the Uncle Remus tales in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. The narrator John speaks in “the haughty tone of a colonizer who acts as if he’s doing the natives a favor by even considering the purchase of their lowly land for his capitalist consumer endeavor.” (Piper, p. 8) Chestnutt consistently portrays John's naïveté about his superiority complex throughout the stories.
When I read James, a novel by Percival Everett, in which slaves use the so-called Black dialect exclusively in the presence of white people so as not to sound “uppity,” I felt his strong reaction against using African American Vernacular English in literature. Zora Neale Hurston, in Their Eyes Were Watching God, employed this dialect and once suggested that readers should put these words into their mouths by reading aloud. In fact, even if merely whispering or mouthing the words silently, I felt the necessity of doing so to make sense of the dialect with its different spellings and word order. Learning to recognize the vocabulary and syntax rattled me at first although I appreciate the connection between Uncle Julius’s way of speaking and the magical stories he tells. Because the dialect requires a slower pace of reading, it took me longer to get through this book than I expected.
Are you interested in Black literature? Some scholars credit Chestnutt with being the first published author of Black fiction. I can recommend this book to a reader who keeps it in perspective, and who takes the time to read Dr. Huguley’s excellent introduction and to use the comprehensive glossary prepared by Judith John. To repeat what I said above, please consider Dr. Piper Huguley’s introduction a prerequisite for reading The Conjure Woman.