March Blog #3: Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass (an autobiography), originally published 1997, newest version (w/ afterword) published 2005

"I was born in Tuckahoe, near Hillsborough, and about twelve miles from Easton, Talbot county, Maryland."

Reading this sentence out loud generates memories of the first time I saw Forrest Gump. No, the sentence itself is not stupid or uncoordinated, it simply brings back memories when I read it out loud. In fact, when you realize this sentence is coming from the mouth of a slave, it has a poignancy that can be difficult to define. And perhaps that is part of what the first sentence is about. Many slaves probably had no idea where they were or how to put it to words, and, as the back of the book says, a slave learning to read or write is punishable by death. I think that is perhaps one of the most moving aspects of the first lines. I get a feeling that Douglass is experiencing a sort of triumph and a sense of pride. He knows exactly where he is, and he can write it down, and there is absolutely nothing anyone can do about it. I process an image of a man struggling to write those first words to a story (as I so often do), and when he finally puts those words down, he is calm, and he is proud.

The first chapter of the book explains Douglass's origins as a slave, and exactly how innocent he was, how little he knew about what he was supposed to be. It is towards the end of the chapter that he sees the whippings unfold and realizes what his life is, and concludes the chapter claiming that so much more bad is to come. This sets a dire mood that pulls you into reading more.

The second chapter explains his master's life and the general activity of the slaves in more detail. It finishes up mentioning how the songs he sang as a child did not really convey the sadness that they felt, but actually probably enforced their image as barbarians.

Though I find the writing style of the book a little dry, the voice and life behind the book are captivating, and generate great feelings of awe and despair. The book is raw beauty in descriptions of the feelings, and the complacency with which he monitors and describes the scenes surrounding almost makes me feel sorry for the guy, while at the same time I feel I should feel proud of our nations current state in at the very least allowing other races to go further, if not far enough.