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60 pages 2 hours read

Jesmyn Ward

Let Us Descend

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2023

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Background

Authorial Context: Jesmyn Ward

As a two-time National Book Award winner, Jesmyn Ward is the only woman and the only African American to win this award twice. Although born in Berkeley in 1977, Ward’s family was originally from De Lisle, Mississippi, and they returned to their hometown when Ward and her siblings were still young. As a girl, she was bullied, first for being a quiet, bookish student at her public school and then because she was the lone Black student at the private school to which she transferred. She left Mississippi after high school to pursue a BA and an MA at Stanford University, and she also earned an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Michigan. Although she had been firm in her decision to leave coastal Mississippi, she became homesick during the years that she spent in school and consequently returned home upon the completion of her degrees. Wanting to give her children the same rural childhood that she experienced, she has since remained in De Lisle. In 2000, her brother was killed by a drunk driver, and in 2005, she and her family were caught up in Hurricane Katrina and its disastrous aftermath. In 2020, just before the start of the Covid-19 pandemic, she suddenly and unexpectedly lost her husband to acute respiratory distress syndrome. She now lives in De Lisle, Mississippi, with her children and is a faculty member at Tulane University.

Although her work is not autobiographical, her experiences have informed her fiction in several important ways. Contemplations of loss, the importance of family, and the effects of natural disasters all play important roles in her books, and her writing also reflects her own early interest in classic literature. For example, references to canonical works such as Medea (in Salvage the Bones) and Dante’s Inferno (in Let Us Descend) are pervasive within her narratives, and her work often engages with the literary traditions that shaped her as a reader. She is also deeply interested in the experiences of African Americans and their communities, and her novels illustrate the many ways in which individual stories can illuminate the nuances of larger narratives on race, class, and gender in the American South. She weaves a complex tapestry in her writing, with various threads coming together from both her own experiences and those of her community in De Lisle. She is particularly committed to depicting the impact of systemic racism and generational trauma on Black communities, but she is equally invested in showcasing individual resilience and the strength of Black family bonds.

In her memoir, The Men We Reaped, she writes directly about the loss of her brother, but she also openly discusses what she views as the fraught nature of youth and adolescence for Black men in America, particularly in the rural, Southern spaces of which her hometown in Mississippi is a prime example. Her novels speak to this difficult climate, and each of her first four books engages with the impacts that systemic oppression, generational poverty, and limited access to high-quality education have on Black boys as they come of age. Her first novel, Where the Line Bleeds, follows twin brothers through a labyrinth of struggles and limited opportunities but also depicts the strength of community and the deeply important role that extended family plays in rural Black communities in the American South.

Her works also evidence an interest in the way that natural disasters exacerbate inequality in places like Mississippi, and her novel Salvage the Bones depicts one working class family’s struggle during Hurricane Katrina: a situation that reflects elements of her own life experience. The family at the heart of this narrative is close-knit, and although they are of limited means, the strength of their bond is strong. Ward’s interest in representing the inherent strength of the Black family is at the thematic forefront of this text, so, too, is her commitment to depicting agency and resiliency, for her young female protagonist possesses an inner strength that remains unwavering throughout personal struggles and the disaster of Hurricane Katrina.

In various ways, Ward incorporates all of these themes into Let Us Descend, and for the first time in her literary career, she writes about the brutal system of enslavement in the Americas. In this way, she steps back in time to trace the roots of the systems of oppression that have shaped life for the 20th-century characters whom she wrote about in her previous novels and in her memoir. The narrative of Let Us Descend is, in many ways, the origin story of modern-day racism in the American South, and although this text is not set in Bois Sauvage, the fictionalized version of De Lisle that was the setting for her previous three novels, its protagonist does ultimately make her home in the coastal lowland region surrounding New Orleans. Ward’s interest in family bonds, resilience, agency, and hope is also evident in her depictions of the female characters in Let Us Descend. Thus, although this novel is set more than a century before her Bois Sauvage trilogy, it nonetheless maintains a sense of thematic connection to these other works. 

Historical Context: The Plaçage System, The Great Dismal Swamp, and the Dahomey Warriors

Plaçage was a societally recognized (although extra-legal) system in which white men in French and Spanish colonies in the Americas entered common-law marriages with light-skinned women of African, Indigenous, or diverse ancestry, even though such marriages were not legally recognized. The derivation of the term “plaçage” comes from the French verb placer, or “to place,” and the women in these arrangements were known as placées. Although this custom was practiced all over the Americas and was especially common in Saint-Domingue (now modern-day Haiti), New Orleans emerged as the heart of the Plaçage system, which became so deeply ingrained there that it profoundly shaped the developing social world of the city.

During the early days of colonization, men outnumbered women in the Americas, and it became accepted for white men to take common-law partners from among the Black, Indigenous, and Creole populations, although it is important to note that such relationships were still morally frowned upon, given that unions between members of different ethnic groups were still legally prohibited. Even when the white female population increased, plaçage remained widely practiced, and it was not unusual for white men to have two families: one legal and one illicit. Although some placées were enslaved women, many were free and were able to use their positions to negotiate or purchase the freedom of their own family members. Their children, although not recognized as legal heirs, were often remembered in their father’s wills. In New Orleans in particular, placées experienced a distinct social world with its own customs, hierarchies, and events. When Annis arrives at the market at which enslaved men and women are bought and sold in New Orleans, she sees free women who dress in bright colors and move with ease through the streets of New Orleans; these women are placées, and their presence in the novel is one way in which the author addresses a piece of history that, although it is well known in Louisiana and Mississippi, is not as widely discussed outside of the region in which it was practiced.

Plaçage has a complex, fraught history, for although the placées and their children were afforded more freedom and opportunity than enslaved men and women and even many free Black citizens living in the United States at this time, they were still stigmatized, certainly by the white women whose husbands kept placées, but also by society as a whole. Sexual unions between people belonging to different ethnic groups were deeply taboo, and placées were seen by many as women who offered sex in exchange for stability, a home, and a better social position, albeit only within the insular Creole society of New Orleans. It must also be noted that many of the relationships between placées and white men were very probably coercive and certainly lacked equality. The sexual politics of plaçage are still debated today, and although many women certainly did not have a choice about their participation in this practice, many examples abound (particularly in New Orleans), of placées and their children who rose to positions of great social prominence and political power. The ability of this group to thrive within a white supremacist society also raises questions about racism itself. For example, has there always been a preference in New Orleans society for African Americans with light skin, and were the placées and their children able to find social success more readily because their skin color rendered them “closer” to whiteness? By addressing the historical issues of this time period, Ward intends for her readers to consider such questions; however, she is also interested in identifying individual methods of exercising agency that are not typically associated with freedom, will, and choice. Thus, her representation of placées portrays a world that allowed such women to access agency and experience a certain freedom of movement that was not available outside of their society. For Annis, the placées represent possibility, for one look at them tells her that they are free.

Standing as a backdrop to these complex social interactions is the Great Dismal Swamp: a vast expanse of wetland spread across northeastern North Carolina and southeastern Virginia. At its heart lies Lake Drummond, and although the Great Dismal Swamp has since shrunk, it covered more than one million acres during the pre-emancipation era depicted in Let Us Descend. First named by white settlers who found its climate, impenetrable terrain, and wide network of predatory animals to be extremely daunting, the Great Dismal Swamp was seen in a markedly different light by its Indigenous inhabitants and by the countless enslaved men and women who found safety and a measure of freedom within its borders.

Before colonization, the swamp was a trading hub for various Indigenous tribes in the region, including the Nansemond Nation, the Powhatan Confederacy, and various Iroquoian-speaking nations. The area was rich in natural resources, and Indigenous people were able to hunt, fish, and gather a variety of foods in its waters and densely wooded pockets. After colonization, the swamp became a place of refuge for Indigenous peoples who were determined to avoid contact with white settlers and soldiers.

In addition to those who were enslaved for life, there were also people of African descent in the Virginia colony who were indentured rather than enslaved, and after a period of typically four to seven years, they were released from their servitude. Many of these people formed settlements on the edges of the Great Dismal Swamp, and these communities thrived. Like the Indigenous peoples who were the swamp’s first inhabitants, these free people of African descent were able to sustain themselves largely through hunting, fishing, and foraging. As an increasing number of enslaved Africans and African Americans were brought to the area, the free people of African descent had to deal with an ever-greater risk of capture and kidnapping at the hands of local white enslavers. Not wanting to be sold into enslavement, many groups of free Black Americans retreated further into the swamp. Because these communities were known to both white and Black residents in the area, the swamp became a common destination for enslaved men and women who were trying to escape the cruelty of life in bondage. Eventually, communities of the formerly-enslaved (which were often referred to as “maroons” in period literature and historical documents) grew and flourished, aided by those already living in the swamp. The Great Dismal Swamp therefore became a prominent stop for many people on the Underground Railroad, and its place within African American folklore, culture, and mythology grew accordingly. Annis and the enslaved men and women with whom she lives in both her original home and in Louisiana are readily familiar with the swamp, and it is also to the Great Dismal Swamp that her mother Sasha tries to take her on the one occasion when she attempts escape before the two are separated forever.

The Great Dismal Swamp held such a prominent role within American culture and folklore of the pre-emancipation era that it appears both substantively and in passing in many works of 19th-century literature. The most famous among these is Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Dred: A Tale of the Great Dismal Swamp, which depicts a group of formerly enslaved men and women who successfully escape into the swamp, form a community, and use it as a base of operations from which to help other escapees. Although Stowe is perhaps better known for her novel Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Dred is in many ways a less problematic narrative. Its protagonist, who is a fierce advocate for the freedom of Black Americans, was modeled in part on Nat Turner, the leader of a real insurrection of enslaved African Americans that took place in 1831. Dred lacks many of Uncle Tom’s Cabin’s characteristically racist depictions of African Americans and is viewed by many scholars as the superior text of the two.

Also vital to a deeper understanding of Ward’s narrative is a knowledge of Sasha and Annis’s ancestry and cultural heritage. Dahomey was a West African kingdom located in present-day Benin. As the home of the Fon people, Dahomey was a regional power with a thriving economy that was further strengthened by the conquest of neighboring principalities, the labor of enslaved peoples, and international trade. Dahomey was one of the chief suppliers of enslaved peoples to the Americas, and Ward’s text engages with the role that West African countries themselves played in facilitating the activities of white enslavers. In part because the male population had been decimated by war and enslavement, the Fon people developed a massive, all-female army. Thousands of these female warriors existed in Fon society, and the highly-trained, skilled combatants that made up the female battalions were even led by female commanders. It is this martial tradition that Sasha learns from her own mother and passes on to Annis.

Literary Context: Dante’s Inferno

Dante’s Inferno is an important motif within Let Us Descend, for the novel takes its very title from Dante’s text. Early in the narrative, Annis overhears a lesson in which her white half siblings are introduced to Dante’s Inferno, and she will come to embrace the image of descent into hell as a striking metaphor for her own journey to New Orleans, and also for the entire system of enslavement itself. Although she refers to Dante as “The Italian,” indirect references to his text abound within Let Us Descend, and Ward references elements of Dante’s classic work to make a strong argument about the “hellish” conditions experienced by enslaved African Americans during the years that preceded emancipation.

Dante’s Inferno is a part of a book-length narrative poem called The Divine Comedy. Begun in 1308 and finished around 1321, It is divided into three parts: Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso. Even today, it is still widely read and taught in secondary schools and colleges alike, and it is considered to be one of the most important works of both Italian literature and world literature. The poem examines the route taken by the soul after death and describes its narrator (Dante himself) as traveling through the realms of Hell, Purgatory and finally, Heaven. It is most commonly interpreted to be an allegorical representation of the soul’s journey towards God. Within this philosophical context, the Inferno represents the soul’s encounters with and rejection of sin. Similarly, Purgatorio represents the various aspects of a repentant Christian life, and Paradiso stands as the point at which the soul finally comes into its ultimate union with its creator. During his journey, Dante-as-narrator is guided by three figures: the ancient Roman poet, Virgil, who represents the faculty of reason; Beatrice, who represents grace and faith; and Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, a figure commonly associated with the tradition of Christian mystics. Because the dramatically hellish depictions within Inferno utilize vividly violent and grotesque imagery, it is clear that such images were meant to symbolize the horrific ugliness of sin, and Ward makes extensive use of this imagery within her own novel to depict the horrors of enslavement.

To incorporate the imagery and underlying philosophical commentary of Dante’s masterpiece, Ward uses a series of references to The Divine Comedy as a way to build on her own depictions of the horrors of enslavement and to illustrate the true depths of misery experienced by generation after generation of enslaved African and African American people. Because Dante’s Inferno is the work of literature that is most readily associated with hell, her use of this classic text as a metaphor is a deliberate one. However, Ward is also engaging with the original goal of The Divine Comedy itself, for Dante penned the Inferno section in hopes of showing his own readers that sin is terrifying and appalling and must be avoided at all costs. The “sin” that Ward refers to is of course that of enslavement, and by borrowing Dante’s extensive use of imagery and allegory, she pens a powerful plea for her readers to condemn the history of enslavement in America and its ongoing legacy and harmful long-term effects within contemporary American society. 

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