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takiyaaa's review against another edition
5.0
Jesmyn Ward is no stranger to writing beautiful novels and this one was just as breathtaking and gut-wrenching. The imagery alone will be stuck with me for a while. The bad reviews (looking at you NYT) are disappointing and misses the mark. There are other books and the internet to learn whatever you feel you need to about slavery. But this novel forces us to sit with the emotional, mental, and physical turmoil through the eyes of Annis, a black girl. This isn’t a novel to be rushed. Sit with it, empathize, get spiritual.
nancypolo's review against another edition
5.0
Where, how and when does hope appear? Is she the last to exit Pandora’s box, flowing in translucent robes, above some mayhem or catastrophe with a candle in her hand to guide the way? Or do we have a special part of our bodies that secretes hope when we are desperate–an elixir that spurs us beyond exhaustion to achieve acrobatic feats of strength. The answer in Let Us Descend is somewhere between these two. Jesmyn Ward weaves an intricate landscape that is “seething with spirit”. There’s a realm that builds with each cut, bruise and gasp for air as Annis becomes her own guide through a real physical hell. It is scaffolded by each of her experiences with wind, vegetation, water, dirt and air. These are not light encounters. Most require a sacrifice on her part. When her skin rips and bleeds, or her bones grind from blunt force and friction, a new insight blossoms. There are spirits in the soil that give and take. Water promises pure, weightless oblivion. And then there is Mama Aza, a powerful storm induced female spirit. With whom should Annis curry favor, worship and cast her fate?
An enslaved mother cannot afford to give material wealth to her children, but Annis is rich in gifts from her mama. In the low hills that surround her sire’s property, Annis is taught to forage for mushrooms, greens, roots and herbs. She also learns to bob and weave as a phantom held spear against the inevitable brutalities of enslavement. Her mama’s inherited weapons may lie buried in a hidden clearing, however, Annis becomes her own weapon. Ward writes of nature full of thorns, impossibly tangled thickets, swamps that swallow while biting with mosquitos, and water that strangles while promising relief. There are also bees that kiss and guide, mushrooms that nourish and heal, herbs that soothe, and wild game to bolster the meager allotment of corn flour from miserly enslavers. Annis’ descent from Virginia to a sugar cane plantation in Louisiana could not be more brutal or dehumanizing. Ward’s elegiac prose, however, does offer respite from the death march. Annis may be chained to doom, but she is crafting her eventual freedom through spirit and imagination– “a watery-muscled and downy-haired” incarnation of self induced hope.
How can a person remain sane while tethered to unrelenting deprivation, abuse and cruelty? There is strength in sharing and bearing witness to your fellow enslaved chain mate. Safi, Phyllis, Cora, Esther, Mary, and Annis have choices. They buoy each other by pooling what meager resources and strength they can. They hide their tenacity just beyond the gaze of self indulgent enslavers, blinded by their single minded greed and privilege. The bonds between the enslaved are spider silk strong. When this network fails Annis, she comes to rely on something ineffable. Mama Aza resembles Annis’ African grandmother, a warrior wife to a powerful king. She was sold into slavery after falling in love and escaping with a male guard to the king. Her story is revealed piecemeal throughout the novel. The ivory awl hidden in Annis’ hair came from an elephant that her grandmother hunted with her fellow warrior wives. This woman carried Annis’ mother in her belly across the ocean in the infernal hold of a storm tossed slave ship. An ancestral bond runs through each generation like a column of electricity. It charges each woman’s unrelenting struggle to live in a world of her own making. It is more than learning to forage, hunt and fight. They create a reality that floats above the cruel world, as easily as others might spin, measure, cut and sew.
Spiritual agency is a hard thing to flesh out. When Annis struggles to escape the gated hole, her feet become augers mining the ground for purchase. It is one of many seemingly endless struggles in the book. Annis’ body, the steaks supporting the cavity, the water and the mud become embroiled in a fight worthy of the Odyssey. All the while spirit is seething through the mud to have a conversation with Annis. Who will prevail? Those who give and take in the soil? Mama Aza? Or the all knowing Water? Annis bests the impossible situation, only to face more harrowing choices at the river’s edge. She bickers with Mama Aza as a teenager might against a parent while planning a rafting trip. The true mystery of this novel is how Annis will navigate this spirit and real world to true freedom. In many of her interviews, Jesmyn Ward talks of the importance of agency for Annis. In a godless world that promises only unending strife, what is a self-determined woman to do? Should Annis worship in fear at the feet of a petulant, shape-shifting storm? I’d rather see her use all her accumulated skills and strengths to demand the safety, shelter and abundance that only she knows how to coax from the natural world.
An enslaved mother cannot afford to give material wealth to her children, but Annis is rich in gifts from her mama. In the low hills that surround her sire’s property, Annis is taught to forage for mushrooms, greens, roots and herbs. She also learns to bob and weave as a phantom held spear against the inevitable brutalities of enslavement. Her mama’s inherited weapons may lie buried in a hidden clearing, however, Annis becomes her own weapon. Ward writes of nature full of thorns, impossibly tangled thickets, swamps that swallow while biting with mosquitos, and water that strangles while promising relief. There are also bees that kiss and guide, mushrooms that nourish and heal, herbs that soothe, and wild game to bolster the meager allotment of corn flour from miserly enslavers. Annis’ descent from Virginia to a sugar cane plantation in Louisiana could not be more brutal or dehumanizing. Ward’s elegiac prose, however, does offer respite from the death march. Annis may be chained to doom, but she is crafting her eventual freedom through spirit and imagination– “a watery-muscled and downy-haired” incarnation of self induced hope.
How can a person remain sane while tethered to unrelenting deprivation, abuse and cruelty? There is strength in sharing and bearing witness to your fellow enslaved chain mate. Safi, Phyllis, Cora, Esther, Mary, and Annis have choices. They buoy each other by pooling what meager resources and strength they can. They hide their tenacity just beyond the gaze of self indulgent enslavers, blinded by their single minded greed and privilege. The bonds between the enslaved are spider silk strong. When this network fails Annis, she comes to rely on something ineffable. Mama Aza resembles Annis’ African grandmother, a warrior wife to a powerful king. She was sold into slavery after falling in love and escaping with a male guard to the king. Her story is revealed piecemeal throughout the novel. The ivory awl hidden in Annis’ hair came from an elephant that her grandmother hunted with her fellow warrior wives. This woman carried Annis’ mother in her belly across the ocean in the infernal hold of a storm tossed slave ship. An ancestral bond runs through each generation like a column of electricity. It charges each woman’s unrelenting struggle to live in a world of her own making. It is more than learning to forage, hunt and fight. They create a reality that floats above the cruel world, as easily as others might spin, measure, cut and sew.
Spiritual agency is a hard thing to flesh out. When Annis struggles to escape the gated hole, her feet become augers mining the ground for purchase. It is one of many seemingly endless struggles in the book. Annis’ body, the steaks supporting the cavity, the water and the mud become embroiled in a fight worthy of the Odyssey. All the while spirit is seething through the mud to have a conversation with Annis. Who will prevail? Those who give and take in the soil? Mama Aza? Or the all knowing Water? Annis bests the impossible situation, only to face more harrowing choices at the river’s edge. She bickers with Mama Aza as a teenager might against a parent while planning a rafting trip. The true mystery of this novel is how Annis will navigate this spirit and real world to true freedom. In many of her interviews, Jesmyn Ward talks of the importance of agency for Annis. In a godless world that promises only unending strife, what is a self-determined woman to do? Should Annis worship in fear at the feet of a petulant, shape-shifting storm? I’d rather see her use all her accumulated skills and strengths to demand the safety, shelter and abundance that only she knows how to coax from the natural world.
gzinnia's review against another edition
4.0
It was an intense book. There is much cultural themes within this novel and can be a great discussion topic with the right group. I loved the magical realism of this novel and how the characters interacted with one another. There are some parts as a mother that is hard to read but overall a great book worth reading.
mondyboy's review against another edition
Let Us Descend is Ward’s first novel since the brilliant Sing, Unburied, Sing, which won the National Book Award in 2017. Set before the Civil War, Ward tells the story of Annis, an enslaved young woman sold by her master, who also fathered her, to the plantations in New Orleans. It should be no surprise that Annis’s journey to New Orleans and then her enslavement on the plantation is hell on Earth (Dante is liberally quoted). All Annis has to keep her company is a needy storm spirit seeking Annis’s supplication. This is an intense, challenging novel saturated with loss and grief and pain, physical and spiritual. It’s not an easy read, but it is extraordinary. I’d be shocked if this novel doesn’t also draw award attention later in the year.
forzasusan's review against another edition
5.0
I absolutely love everything this woman writes and her latest is no exception. Her writing is exquisite. It's not an easy read as the topic is disturbing and her description of the suffering is palpable. However, even through all the suffering, my heart was with Annis, rooting for her to find her way. Such a good book. Bravo yet again to Ms. Ward.
k101's review against another edition
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.0
ncintoronto's review against another edition
5.0
The book is haunting and emotional, offering a powerful reflection on resilience and the human spirit. Though heartbreaking, it leaves a lasting impact.
corrieherman's review against another edition
3.0
I truly adore Jesmyn Ward and her previous novels but found myself having a hard time enjoying this book. The narrative style is beautiful but it creates a slow pace and the feeling of trying hard to be what it is.
janmacwill's review against another edition
5.0
Ward has what I consider an amazing command of language, so lyrical and poignant. While the storyline of this book is difficult due to the ugliness of slavery, the characters are filled courage, hope and spirit. I highly recommend this book.