Published in 2017, Jesmyn Ward‘s Sing, Unburied, Sing is actually the 3rd entry in a loose trilogy, but it is the first I have read.
It is magnificent.
The plot is disarmingly simple: two children, deeply dependent on each other; a mother prone to violence and drug use; a grandfather trying to provide a safe and stable world; a grandmother suffering from cancer. Add a road trip to fetch the children’s father on his release from prison, sprinkle in incisive details of rural poverty and a dash of magical realism, stir it up, and that’s it.
But, there is so much more: there are the literal ghosts of the past that litter the Mississippi delta, there is the heritage of second sight that traces through the family, and above all else, there is the language. Ward’s words are magical, surprising, lyrical, and richly emotive. It’s probably not a book for everyone: the subject matter is difficult (drug use, child abuse, and contemporary and historical racial violence all play a part) and the emotional honesty often unsettling.
The novel alternates its point of view each chapter, which works exceedingly well in Ward’s hands. Each voice is distinct and, as importantly, each character’s innate intelligence and insight shines through: even for those whose actions are problematic, their motivations are clear and understandable.
There are some things to nitpick–a level of repetition of character traits, some scenes that don’t do enough to move the story forward. Whatever. For me, this novel was an amazing ride, one that left me immediately ordering the preceding two books.
#WhatIWishICouldDo
The language. Ward’s sentences skip and stutter, offering sharp insight and surprising connections between the landscape, the weather, the characters’ emotions, and their internal and external struggles. The skill and creativity that is on display is, for a writer, both inspiring and intimidating.