The attention around Washington Black (2019) was really the impetus for my reading of Esi Edugyan‘s earlier output (see Half-Blood Blues and The Second Life of Samuel Tyne). Overall, Washington Black is as good as Half-Blood Blues (which I loved) and, for the first 2/3 or so of the novel, even surpasses it.
Each of the three novels are–and this is a tribute to Edugyan’s skill–set in totally different worlds. Washington Black traces the life of the eponymous protagonist, born a slave on a sugar plantation in Barbados in the late 19th century, through adventures that lead him to the far Canadian north, England, and, ultimately, Morocco.
Most profoundly, the novel explores the meaning of identity and freedom in a sophisticated, tender, and compelling way. At core looms the question of whether, for someone born into the brutality of slavery, it is possible to overcome the physical and psychic damage it inflicts? The answer, somewhat thrillingly, is both yes and no, which certainly seems reasonable.
Little is simple in Washington Black, and for every remarkable insight and development made by the characters, the demons of their personal histories refuse to be fully defeated. This makes the novel incredibly human, quite a success for something attempting to be fully grounded in a history over a century in the past.
The key relationships all resonate, especially between Washington and an older female slave and an enigmatic white man, the brother to the abusive and cruel plantation owner, who ends up being both a path to freedom and a lifelong burden for the main character. Along the way are literal flights of scientific fancy, a shipwreck, a search for marine specimens in Canadian bays, and the construction of one of the world’s first aquariums.
Readers may quibble with the ending–and indeed, whether it is an ending at all–but the journey is magnificent. Very highly recommended.
#WhatIWishICouldDo
Edugyan strikes such an amazing balance between an adventurous page-turner, a historical novel, and a psychological exploration. That is something to which I aspire–to keep a reader anxious about what happens next while still providing a depth of character that brings the page fully alive.