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The Slaves Have Names: Ancestors of My Home
They lived with professors and waited on former presidents. They were masons and nurses, school teachers and field hands, 246 people owned by a man who struggled with the institution of slavery. Yet, almost no one knows their names. When a white woman begins to study the history of the plantations these people built, the plantations where she was raised, she discovers that the silence around these people's lives speaks of a silence in her country's history . . . and in her own life. A creative nonfiction, history book about American slavery and its legacy in the United States.
"In the late afternoons sometimes, I walk up and talk to the folks who are buried in the undulating earth, most of their graves are unmarked by any stone except, perhaps, two pieces of slate stuck vertically in the ground, one at head and one at foot, and long worn down or washed clean of names. But three stones bear words, gifts cut into rock - Ben Creasy, the carpenter, Jesse Nicholas, the stonemason, and Primus, the foreman. Ben and Jesse's stones are clear - with their names and dates marked deeply in the sandstone. I can find them in the records - know for sure who they are. Primus's stone is harder to know. The tradition here on the farm is that Primus the foreman at Upper Bremo is buried here, but I cannot be sure. The stone reads "Prams - 12," and I'm not sure that it refers to this Primus. It may be his grandson, also Primus, or some person I don't know yet. It's the 12 that throws me - the Primus I know lived to be an old man, long past 1812 - his death date is noted - 1849. That date seems right according to the records, but then, the records are so sparse; it's hard to know. I don't know how to solidify - to give storied flesh - to these rough marks hewn deep into stone."
"In the late afternoons sometimes, I walk up and talk to the folks who are buried in the undulating earth, most of their graves are unmarked by any stone except, perhaps, two pieces of slate stuck vertically in the ground, one at head and one at foot, and long worn down or washed clean of names. But three stones bear words, gifts cut into rock - Ben Creasy, the carpenter, Jesse Nicholas, the stonemason, and Primus, the foreman. Ben and Jesse's stones are clear - with their names and dates marked deeply in the sandstone. I can find them in the records - know for sure who they are. Primus's stone is harder to know. The tradition here on the farm is that Primus the foreman at Upper Bremo is buried here, but I cannot be sure. The stone reads "Prams - 12," and I'm not sure that it refers to this Primus. It may be his grandson, also Primus, or some person I don't know yet. It's the 12 that throws me - the Primus I know lived to be an old man, long past 1812 - his death date is noted - 1849. That date seems right according to the records, but then, the records are so sparse; it's hard to know. I don't know how to solidify - to give storied flesh - to these rough marks hewn deep into stone."
172 pages, Paperback
First published November 22, 2013
About the author
Andi Cumbo-Floyd
22 books194 followersI’m a writer, an editor, a cross-stitcher, and a reader.
I write books about writing, magical realism for middle grade and young adult readers, and cozy mysteries as ACF Bookens.
My husband, adorable toddler, three dogs and three cats have the gift of living in Virginia's beautiful Blue Ridge.
I write books about writing, magical realism for middle grade and young adult readers, and cozy mysteries as ACF Bookens.
My husband, adorable toddler, three dogs and three cats have the gift of living in Virginia's beautiful Blue Ridge.
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Displaying 1 - 26 of 26 reviews
December 3, 2013
Although some may call it history, I’d label this book a meditation inspired by the land on which Cumbo-Floyd lives. Formerly a plantation worked by slaves, her home at Bremo includes remnants of those days, some buildings, a stone wall, a slave cemetery. These led her to seek the stories of the people who lived here before. In her extensive research, she found that Information is scarce, often only a first name and an occupation--spinner, field hand, driver, etc.--on a census or inventory list. From these, the author has spun tales of what might have been, imaginations of what the people looked like, who they loved, what they did, and what happened to them. The stories are touching, if a bit over-romanticized. They make the reader think about these people and their lives as slaves and the difficulty of being a white person trying to understand the black culture. They make these invisible people real. They give them names. That makes the book a valuable contribution to our American literature. It could use another proofreading to correct minor errors sprinkled throughout, but overall, good job.
November 25, 2013
In the second chapter of "The Slaves Have Names," Andi tells the story of one Halloween night when she invited several friends to the Bremo plantation for a sleepover in the barn. At one point, she and her friends venture into the slave cemetery. "I either didn't think to bring flashlights," she writes, "or purposely left them to heighten the spooky factor. It's mighty dark in the country, can't see your hand in front of your face when there's not a moon. Creepier on Halloween for sure."
One of the kids feels someone grab her, and they all flee in terror.
Andi looks back on this story with shame for the lack of respect paid to the graves but also forgiveness, giving herself the "grace of youth." This, to me, is the defining word for the book: grace. Andi sees her research into the lives of the slaves as holy work, which to her means "giving the gift of grace" to all the historical characters, including the unsympathetic ones. She is careful to avoid assumptions and is always clear about when she is speculating.
And because there are so few records, Andi must speculate a lot. She takes this responsibility with the seriousness of a prophet with a calling -- even at times hearing the voices of the slaves and speaking back to them.
But this book is also a kind of "coming of age" story. So much of Andi's understanding of Bremo hinges on her maturation and the grief she feels over the death of her mother. One of the most profound elements, to me, is the connection she draws between her grief for her mother and the story of Lucy the nurse, a slave who nursed the master's babies while she had babies of her own to feed. Andi wonders how she might have felt about sharing such an intimate moment with the master's children. Later, she reveals that Lucy got buried in the family graveyard instead of the slave one. She imagines that one of the master's babies, Sally, might have been the reason since she had probably grown attached to this mother figure. "And yet, maybe I am wishful, deluded," she writes. "Maybe Sally didn't care at all. Maybe I just miss my own mom." Moments like this shift the book from history to personal meditation and suggest a different way of engaging with history in general.
(Full disclosure: I am friends with Andi from way back in the day in graduate school.)
One of the kids feels someone grab her, and they all flee in terror.
Andi looks back on this story with shame for the lack of respect paid to the graves but also forgiveness, giving herself the "grace of youth." This, to me, is the defining word for the book: grace. Andi sees her research into the lives of the slaves as holy work, which to her means "giving the gift of grace" to all the historical characters, including the unsympathetic ones. She is careful to avoid assumptions and is always clear about when she is speculating.
And because there are so few records, Andi must speculate a lot. She takes this responsibility with the seriousness of a prophet with a calling -- even at times hearing the voices of the slaves and speaking back to them.
But this book is also a kind of "coming of age" story. So much of Andi's understanding of Bremo hinges on her maturation and the grief she feels over the death of her mother. One of the most profound elements, to me, is the connection she draws between her grief for her mother and the story of Lucy the nurse, a slave who nursed the master's babies while she had babies of her own to feed. Andi wonders how she might have felt about sharing such an intimate moment with the master's children. Later, she reveals that Lucy got buried in the family graveyard instead of the slave one. She imagines that one of the master's babies, Sally, might have been the reason since she had probably grown attached to this mother figure. "And yet, maybe I am wishful, deluded," she writes. "Maybe Sally didn't care at all. Maybe I just miss my own mom." Moments like this shift the book from history to personal meditation and suggest a different way of engaging with history in general.
(Full disclosure: I am friends with Andi from way back in the day in graduate school.)
January 27, 2014
Andi takes on a challenging subject in this book—slavery, and creates a work that is meditative, thoughtful, and very interesting. Although there isn’t much written history preserved for in-depth stories of the people who were slaves at this place called Bremo, Andi manages to write a complex story. She gives many of these people a story based on her careful, and thorough research, and her thoughts on how such an institution could have survived as long as it did. Andi begins each chapter with a name of the person she will discuss, the person’s family connections, birth date, and death date. These people were enslaved at the plantation called Bremo. And with each stone these people set in building this place, Andi also builds her story by embodying these long lost people with their sweat, and sacrifices. The writing has a haunting quality to it, which is the perfect tone for this work.
January 29, 2014
Right away the author Andi Cumbo-Floyd tells you how important this topic is to her. She explains how she formed a connection to the dead slaves who built the plantation she was raised on. How the thoughts and historical research into their lives helped pull her through a grieving process in her life.
I wanted to like this book and I thought for sure I would because I’m fond of the author as a person. However, I don’t like the book. I hate it when I feel like I am the only person being honest with an author when I know how much hard work and heart has gone into their project.
My first disappointment came when my paperback showed up from Amazon. Dear Andi, I hope you did not pay good money for the poor quality pixelated cover that is on your book. I am devastated for you.
My attention was held pretty well through the early part of the book where we get an understanding of where this plantation is, and why this topic is important to the author. I started to feel strange when the author revealed just how deep her connection is to the dead slaves. She admits to having reoccurring whispering conversations with one of the dead slaves while referring to another deceased slave as buddy while caressing his headstone. Wow-I can’t believe you shared that with us, but aren’t daring enough to tell us what you’re whispering about? You have the opportunity to knock our socks off with audacity and depth of you as a character and didn’t go there? Not giving us full disclosure is trite-and reads like bad poetry.
We as readers are forced into respecting this pseudo relationship Andi has with the dead slaves. We are fixed into treating this topic as serious, because its about slavery, it has true history woven into it, and she has played off our emotions by revealing very personal, no she’s surpassed that-she is to much information territory.
The reader then has to wait, keep reading, and hope to see what profound information the author has in store for us. Because did I mention the book is about slavery and in case you didn’t know, that is serious. “Slaves didn’t choose to be slaves.” Really? I know we are surrounded by the millennial generation, but REALLY? Every chapter seemed to end on some sanctimonious reminder along that thread. I felt like the author expected her reading audience to have a second grade level of exposure to that part of world history.
Unfortunately her true historical facts, which I did enjoy and found interesting, crossed into fictitious dreams. The author lays out her thoughts of each of these slaves documenting the most picturesque moments possible that she has envisioned during her walks in the unmarked slave graveyard. And this is where I think the author looses half of her audience. Woman it’s okay to dream up lives of historical figures, write a historical fiction book-I think you would do well at it, seriously. Because right now we’re reading this book that’s part history, part poetry, and part really bad fiction. Since you have forced us as readers to take the work oh-so seriously it’s become irritatingly self-important. It’s like looking at a cheap mass-market painting being sold on the side of the road where the brush strokes are right, but the frame is tacky and the focal point is off center. Something has to give. You either have to give us more of you as a character, transform this work into a historical fiction (preferably with an entertaining plot), or strip all of your fictitious pretty ramblings out and talk more about the adventure of the research. That’s just my opinion.
I wanted to like this book and I thought for sure I would because I’m fond of the author as a person. However, I don’t like the book. I hate it when I feel like I am the only person being honest with an author when I know how much hard work and heart has gone into their project.
My first disappointment came when my paperback showed up from Amazon. Dear Andi, I hope you did not pay good money for the poor quality pixelated cover that is on your book. I am devastated for you.
My attention was held pretty well through the early part of the book where we get an understanding of where this plantation is, and why this topic is important to the author. I started to feel strange when the author revealed just how deep her connection is to the dead slaves. She admits to having reoccurring whispering conversations with one of the dead slaves while referring to another deceased slave as buddy while caressing his headstone. Wow-I can’t believe you shared that with us, but aren’t daring enough to tell us what you’re whispering about? You have the opportunity to knock our socks off with audacity and depth of you as a character and didn’t go there? Not giving us full disclosure is trite-and reads like bad poetry.
We as readers are forced into respecting this pseudo relationship Andi has with the dead slaves. We are fixed into treating this topic as serious, because its about slavery, it has true history woven into it, and she has played off our emotions by revealing very personal, no she’s surpassed that-she is to much information territory.
The reader then has to wait, keep reading, and hope to see what profound information the author has in store for us. Because did I mention the book is about slavery and in case you didn’t know, that is serious. “Slaves didn’t choose to be slaves.” Really? I know we are surrounded by the millennial generation, but REALLY? Every chapter seemed to end on some sanctimonious reminder along that thread. I felt like the author expected her reading audience to have a second grade level of exposure to that part of world history.
Unfortunately her true historical facts, which I did enjoy and found interesting, crossed into fictitious dreams. The author lays out her thoughts of each of these slaves documenting the most picturesque moments possible that she has envisioned during her walks in the unmarked slave graveyard. And this is where I think the author looses half of her audience. Woman it’s okay to dream up lives of historical figures, write a historical fiction book-I think you would do well at it, seriously. Because right now we’re reading this book that’s part history, part poetry, and part really bad fiction. Since you have forced us as readers to take the work oh-so seriously it’s become irritatingly self-important. It’s like looking at a cheap mass-market painting being sold on the side of the road where the brush strokes are right, but the frame is tacky and the focal point is off center. Something has to give. You either have to give us more of you as a character, transform this work into a historical fiction (preferably with an entertaining plot), or strip all of your fictitious pretty ramblings out and talk more about the adventure of the research. That’s just my opinion.
March 16, 2014
When Andi Cumbo set out to write the research memoir, "The Slaves Have Names," she faced the seemingly impossible task of bringing the largely forgotten past of Bremo Plantation—and specifically, the lives of its slaves—to life. But somehow, she succeeded in doing so.
The flow of the book reminds me a lot of a good documentary, interspersing cobbled-together historical remnants of the lives of slaves—sparse biographies that Cumbo fleshes out with fiction in order to further humanize her subjects—with exposition about the plantation, the research process, and the author's own reflections on her research.
Honestly, Cumbo asks a lot of the reader in some ways. To read the story of one slave after another, especially when the information available is skeletal at best, is often disorienting—a bit like trying to keep up with one of Robert Altman's ensemble casts in one of his more ambitious films. I'll put it this way: If you're one of those people who have trouble remembering the names of the people you meet at, say, a new church, you're going to be thumbing through the pages from time to time, trying to remember who is who. But at the same time, the aim of the book as a whole is clear and clever. It represents the heart of an author who is fascinated by the plantation's past, but also possessed of a heartfelt sorrow for its slaves and their lots in life.
One reviewer here criticizes the overly serious tone of the book, and Cumbo's "sanctimonious" thoughts about slavery. I must say, I am a bit baffled by this. A research memoir like this is anchored in place by a singular author's perspective, and if that author happens to find herself humbled by her subject matter, and inspired to write prose that captures her own feelings about what she is writing, I think that is most definitely allowed. Encouraged, even.
It is her singular perspective and her heart for her subject matter, in fact, that make the past—however tentative—spring to life in the present for the reader. What she builds by the end of the book feels a bit like a house of cards that might come tumbling down at any minute, but that fragility is part of what makes it intriguing to me. Cumbo reminds us that when we do not chronicle the past, we lose it. A lesson worth learning for anyone and everyone.
The flow of the book reminds me a lot of a good documentary, interspersing cobbled-together historical remnants of the lives of slaves—sparse biographies that Cumbo fleshes out with fiction in order to further humanize her subjects—with exposition about the plantation, the research process, and the author's own reflections on her research.
Honestly, Cumbo asks a lot of the reader in some ways. To read the story of one slave after another, especially when the information available is skeletal at best, is often disorienting—a bit like trying to keep up with one of Robert Altman's ensemble casts in one of his more ambitious films. I'll put it this way: If you're one of those people who have trouble remembering the names of the people you meet at, say, a new church, you're going to be thumbing through the pages from time to time, trying to remember who is who. But at the same time, the aim of the book as a whole is clear and clever. It represents the heart of an author who is fascinated by the plantation's past, but also possessed of a heartfelt sorrow for its slaves and their lots in life.
One reviewer here criticizes the overly serious tone of the book, and Cumbo's "sanctimonious" thoughts about slavery. I must say, I am a bit baffled by this. A research memoir like this is anchored in place by a singular author's perspective, and if that author happens to find herself humbled by her subject matter, and inspired to write prose that captures her own feelings about what she is writing, I think that is most definitely allowed. Encouraged, even.
It is her singular perspective and her heart for her subject matter, in fact, that make the past—however tentative—spring to life in the present for the reader. What she builds by the end of the book feels a bit like a house of cards that might come tumbling down at any minute, but that fragility is part of what makes it intriguing to me. Cumbo reminds us that when we do not chronicle the past, we lose it. A lesson worth learning for anyone and everyone.
December 11, 2013
Andi Cumbo Floyd was compelled to write The Slaves Have Names: Ancestors of My Home by a need to ensure that the enslaved people who built her home were not forgotten forever. While Andi may not have known a great deal about the enslaved men and women who built the Bremo plantations on which she was raised, she was nonetheless able to bring them to life by describing the times and places in which they lived, as well as by providing us images of what they might have been like as individuals interacting with their families. In a few cases, she was able to introduce us to still-living descendants of the slaves, and shared how her work has affected them.
Additionally, Andi included information about chattel slavery in the United States, and how the realities of that time limited her ability to find solid data on the people, particularly the black people. She shared her research processes, her travels and experiences as she searched out answers, and how the whole project affected her personally. Truly, it was fascinating.
I believe Andi met her goal of keeping the memory of these slaves alive. The Slaves Have Names: Ancestors of My Home is well worth your time and attention.
Additionally, Andi included information about chattel slavery in the United States, and how the realities of that time limited her ability to find solid data on the people, particularly the black people. She shared her research processes, her travels and experiences as she searched out answers, and how the whole project affected her personally. Truly, it was fascinating.
I believe Andi met her goal of keeping the memory of these slaves alive. The Slaves Have Names: Ancestors of My Home is well worth your time and attention.
May 16, 2015
These are people I know and find hard to leave behind. The stories of the enslaved souls Andi Cumbo-Floyd writes about, through extensive research and informed imagination, take on dimension and breath. They linger. Prompted by the slaves' cemetery on the property of the home where she lives, inspired by the names left on the headstones; she sets out on a quest of sorts. To give back the lives which were so brutally stolen by the Slave Trade for our economy. To clothe in dignity those who had been stripped for our fiscal management. This book informed me, in detail, on the evils of slavery. And the stories Cumbo-Floyd tells of those enslaved and traded at Bremo, provoked me to think about the lives today I can so casually disregard. Aptly titled, The Slaves Have Names, connects us universally through one of our most basic needs. The need to be known. By name.
January 21, 2014
I loved the way in which the author chose to imagine and visualize the lives of many of the slaves on Bremo Plantation. The records left of the Bremo Slaves are minimal, but she pulls out the most interesting/important facts to create a vision of their life so you can imagine life on the plantation. I especially enjoyed her descriptions of her travels to the places where she was hoping to learn more about the slaves lives in other parts of the country. The suspense, of wondering what she would find, left me wanting more.
I also gifted this book to my mother, who is a church historian and wrote a history book 20 years ago. She told me "I have never read a book this fast in my life - it was a wonderful book and I couldn't wait to get to the next page."
I also gifted this book to my mother, who is a church historian and wrote a history book 20 years ago. She told me "I have never read a book this fast in my life - it was a wonderful book and I couldn't wait to get to the next page."
January 5, 2014
This author has done her research on a difficult topic. She approaches this with dignity and respect. Her level of professionalism is incredible. Her story telling is impressive considering the limitations of her subject. She doesn't give us easy answers to who these people were and why they did what they did. When there are a lack of answers, she imagines various scenarios that could fit the facts. This lets us see how many ways that history can be read. This is fascinating for the research and for the story telling. It is a must for anyone interested in pre-Civil War US history.
February 10, 2014
It was like reading a family saga. Very nice story. I enjoyed how the author told the story and her use of supposition. Each name, each story, had its own chapter. With so little for the author to work with, I felt like "yeah, that's probable." It truly felt, for me, like a beloved family member telling me our family history. This should be something students should read as part of a history class. Nicely done.
June 25, 2014
I found this book very interesting and at times very poignant and thoughtful. I wish there was more information about the people or have a more solid flow as the words "I imagine" is used so frequently it becomes redundant and annoying at times. For those interested in the Civil War and American slavery, I'd recommend this piece of narrative nonfiction.
July 15, 2015
Reading this was like having a friend share their journal, and then having a conversation with someone who actually knew the slaves. I enjoyed reading about an area I was topographically familiar with, but neither historically nor personally. Andi left me feeling I had lived there. Similar to Earl Hamner's attention to character feelings.
November 25, 2013
I can only imagine how the author felt researching this book, as I found myself near tears several times reading it. A very important piece of work, to give names and stories to some of the slaves who built this country.
June 1, 2015
The slaves have names
Awesome this book so cool
Awesome this book so cool
August 1, 2017
They were the nameless and faceless people who served the General, built the plantation houses and barns, who tended to the horses and the fields, and who nursed the plantation owners children. They were the people who were enslaved at Bremo plantation in Virginia. When a white woman, Andi begins to study the history of Bremo, where she was raised, she begins to learn not only the names of the people buried in the graveyard on the land where she grew up, but she learns of their lives. Her research allows her to connect to the descendants of the former slaves and share with them about their ancestors.
I found this to be a very emotionally moving look at the history of slavery in the United States. I recommend it to anyone willing to take a look at the underbelly of the history of our country.
I found this to be a very emotionally moving look at the history of slavery in the United States. I recommend it to anyone willing to take a look at the underbelly of the history of our country.
March 26, 2019
Andi captures - in both speculation and fact she managed to gather from what little there is to gather - the beauty of individual story, for those whose stories are so rarely, if ever, told. Through the process her own story - which is mine and many others living in white skin - is laid brutally bare though never the main point. It is THEIR story that she gives life to. What a holy gift.
March 18, 2024
Thank you for your heart-felt book. I have enjoyed reading it very much. I can see you put a lot of yourself into it. The only thing I found "off" was the occasional typo. Maybe having a friend do a read-thru before sending it to the publisher.
And thank you SO MUCH for autographing it for me !!! What a nice surprise.
And thank you SO MUCH for autographing it for me !!! What a nice surprise.
May 4, 2017
The author has done a fine job of connecting the delicate and fragile threads of the past with the hopeful and vibrant strands of the present. This book poses questions about how we look at our past and our responsibility to confront it.
April 6, 2018
Great understanding
Thankful that someone was telling the story of real people who once were perceived as insignificant but were extremely significant in weaving the fibers of this country. My favorite chapter was Chapter 32. I certainly enjoyed her writing style as well.
Thankful that someone was telling the story of real people who once were perceived as insignificant but were extremely significant in weaving the fibers of this country. My favorite chapter was Chapter 32. I certainly enjoyed her writing style as well.
August 8, 2017
As a genealogist, I love the idea of this book. However it feels too much like fiction to me. Where are the citations of her research?
April 26, 2016
I love this book! Starting out on facts, the author weaves a story around characters. While not creating a fiction story, and keeping the line between fact and imagination very clear.
Not a fictional novel, neither is it a book with lots of factual information about any of the characters. a lot of facts were lost or simply never recorded.
It's like you're standing in the slave graveyard listening to Andi dreamily tell the stories of the people buried there. She starts out with facts and then tries to think of what it would have been like for that person, why they did certain thinhgs, how they felt... It's easy to get caught up in the story, as she paints a picture of someone who really lived but ho we know barely anything about.
Statistics are derived from numbers about people, but those people are and were never just a number, no matter what people treated them like. They were a life with tears, laughts, dreams.
Names on a list can at best be found on gravestones and it's not just a grave or a name; It's a life with a story, complex, and it's sad if they get forgotten.
I love these stories, and want them with as much fact as possible but not dry and factual. Andi does a great job of doing this gently and tactfully, admitting she doesn't know, but can only try to undertand, geuss, emphatize.
January 10, 2015
This is a collection of shorts about various slaves who lived on the property this author and her family inhabit. The information in the book is good, but it's difficult to read at times. As would be expected, the author needed to do a great deal of research for compilation of this data. Yet, even in doing this, there were many blank spots and lots of missing information. In far too many spaces, there were statements to the effect of her being unable to determine whether the person she was speaking of was, indeed, that particular person or someone else. There were also numerous instances of questioning whether 2 persons were, instead, one in the same. This left me questioning how helpful this really would be. Yes, I'm sure it was interesting for her, looking through the archives and visiting the various grave sites. However, if I were a descendant of a person chronicled in this narrative, I would be disappointed. My husband is one who is VERY interested in history, the slave trade, and the story of Africans who were brought to America. However, I think that this book fell short in some areas.
April 15, 2016
When I bought this book, I had no idea how much it would move me. I was curious about the personal histories of enslaved people. It turns out that the history is not easy to find. By the middle of the book, I felt I was searching with Andi Cumbo-Floyd, looking over her shoulder in the courthouses and libraries, and celebrating with her when puzzle pieces fit together. It is an arduous process trying to find information on the lives of people history has all but forgotten. But the author is dedicated. She uncovers historical facts from court documents and from the inventories which list people as property. But there are so many gaps, so many questions. Taking care to clarify thoughts from facts, the author imagines the possibilities about how these ancestors of her home lived and what they might have thought and felt. With a strong sense of honor and respect, she gives us a glimpse of what it might have been like to live and work as enslaved people.This is a book about history, but it is also a book full of insight and heart.
March 1, 2016
Tedious. Mournful. Unique. I was hoping this was more about the research of slave ancestors and genealogy and less about the authors personal feelings. Another reviewer had it right when she said this is more of a meditation and less a research history.
November 17, 2016
Beautifully written. Bringing to life experiences builds understanding & compassion. This is important work!
April 14, 2017
I'm giving this book 5 stars not because it was perfectly edited, because it wasn't; not because there aren't errors found in the printing, because there are; and not because the book is laid out logically, because it isn't always. I'm giving it five stars because of the heart behind it and Andi Cumbo-Floyd's painstaking, loving, imaginative effort to research what she could on the people who lived as slaves during antebellum days on the plantation her family calls home. She tries to give dignity to those who were given very little when they lived.
With heartfelt respect and poignant, imaginative stories supported by what facts could be scoured from scant records in the annals of history, Cumbo-Floyd offers a beautiful tribute to the slaves who forged and lived, worked, and loved on her ancestors' plantation. The beauty of this offering lies in her desire to provide shape, form, and life to the extremely-scant records of the people who lived there.
The poignant aspect of the effort is that she had to piece what stories together she could through extremely scant records. Slaves quite often were not permitted to have last names or had to take on the last name of their owner, whether current or previous. A slave's name might pop up here or there, often in different forms, on the records of perhaps one or more plantations, or even some type of county register. Cumbo-Floyd spent love-motivated, mind-numbing days, weeks, months, and years scouring plantation and public records to piece together what she could of their life histories. Where she was able, she went as far as locating and introducing the contemporary descendants of the slaves she researched to the histories of their ancestors.
Because the book alternates between the imagine the stories of the slaves during print plantation life and contemporary life, the book skips back-and-forth, passing over several hundred years quickly and without notice. That said, in each chapter Cumbo-Floyd attempts to piece together a history for one person at a time, whether named or unnamed, or at least a small vignette from the life of that person.
Cumbo-Floyd wants to force history to view these slaves as the people they were, not merely as chattel, possessions, and tools. In most cases, to accomplish this goal, she must rely upon an anachronistic imagination to try to piece together the colorful stories of their lives, both the good and the bad - the beautiful and awful life situations that people experienced as slaves and as humans.
With heartfelt respect and poignant, imaginative stories supported by what facts could be scoured from scant records in the annals of history, Cumbo-Floyd offers a beautiful tribute to the slaves who forged and lived, worked, and loved on her ancestors' plantation. The beauty of this offering lies in her desire to provide shape, form, and life to the extremely-scant records of the people who lived there.
The poignant aspect of the effort is that she had to piece what stories together she could through extremely scant records. Slaves quite often were not permitted to have last names or had to take on the last name of their owner, whether current or previous. A slave's name might pop up here or there, often in different forms, on the records of perhaps one or more plantations, or even some type of county register. Cumbo-Floyd spent love-motivated, mind-numbing days, weeks, months, and years scouring plantation and public records to piece together what she could of their life histories. Where she was able, she went as far as locating and introducing the contemporary descendants of the slaves she researched to the histories of their ancestors.
Because the book alternates between the imagine the stories of the slaves during print plantation life and contemporary life, the book skips back-and-forth, passing over several hundred years quickly and without notice. That said, in each chapter Cumbo-Floyd attempts to piece together a history for one person at a time, whether named or unnamed, or at least a small vignette from the life of that person.
Cumbo-Floyd wants to force history to view these slaves as the people they were, not merely as chattel, possessions, and tools. In most cases, to accomplish this goal, she must rely upon an anachronistic imagination to try to piece together the colorful stories of their lives, both the good and the bad - the beautiful and awful life situations that people experienced as slaves and as humans.
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