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It is 1937 and Amabelle Désir, a young Haitian woman living in the Dominican Republic, has built herself a life as the servant and companion of the wife of a wealthy colonel. She and Sebastien, a cane worker, are deeply in love and plan to marry. But Amabelle's world collapses when a wave of genocidal violence, driven by Dominican dictator Rafael Trujillo, leads to the slaughter of Haitian workers. Amabelle and Sebastien are separated, and she desperately flees the tide of violence for a Haiti she barely remembers. Already acknowledged as a classic, this harrowing story of love and survival--from one of the most important voices of her generation--is an unforgettable memorial to the victims of the Parsley Massacre and a testimony to the power of human memory.… (more)
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The river that Danticat writes about separates Haiti from the Dominican Republic. It is a river that many Haitians have crossed as they've gone to work as laborers in the cane fields of the Dominican Republic. It is also a river of sadness for Amabelle, a young Haitian woman whose parents drowned in the river when she was eight. She was found by a rich family from the Dominican Republic and has worked as a servant in their house since the tragedy. But in 1937, Generalissimo Trujillo decides to cleanse the Dominican Republic of the Haitians, and the lives of Amabelle, her lover Sebastien, and many other Haitians are put in danger.
Danticat is one of my favorite authors. She excels at historical fiction, creating a story that not only pulls the reader into the dangers faced by Haitians at this time, but also stands on its own, with rich characters and a plot that rides atop the historical events that are its backdrop. The terror faced by Amabelle and the other Haitians is told in a stark, matter-of-fact way that never screams for attention, but lays bare their experiences and lets them speak for themselves. One of the most powerful parts of the book occurs not as the horrors are taking place, but afterward, as survivors share their stories. The ending of the book, which takes place years after the Haitians' flight, was somewhat disappointing to me, but it rang true, echoing the themes of the rest of the story. Like everything else that I've read by Danticat, I recommend this book highly.
The story of Amabelle's life before, during, and after the massacre is bone-chilling. It is difficult to imagine how any woman could survive such violence. Her inner strength seems to have come from her parents, who drowned crossing the river between the two countries, while she stood on the "wrong side" and watched it happen. In her mind, as she replayed the story over and over again, she heard her parents' encouragement, felt their love, and knew that someday she too would float off in the river to join them. In the meantime, she accepted her fate, used her inate talents, and became a trusted member of her adoptive family (although in a servant's role.)
It was a difficult book to read, but it was so well written that once I picked it up and began, I found it even more difficult to put down. I finished it in less than a day. Edwidge Danticat has given us a striking picture of a woman's strength of character, and inspired us to look more into history to see what the world can do to insure no other women (or their menfolk) have to endure such atrocities in the future. It is not a book for the timid, nor is it a book for young readers, but by late high school, it is excellent reading for all who need to be exposed to the cruelty man has wreaked upon his fellow humans.
This is a novel of unfulfilled desire – Amabelle's desire for an impossible reunion with her long-dead parents, her desire for Sebastien, and most of all, her desire for belonging. She no longer has ties to Haiti, but she's an outsider in the Dominican Republic. No one in Alegría (“joy” in Spanish) is happy – not the Haitian field workers, not Don Ignacio, who is troubled by the actions of Trujullo's government, not Valencia, who shares no love with her husband, and not Amabelle. Edwidge Danticat's prose beautifully captures the pain, sorrow, and longing in a way that doesn't manipulate the reader's emotions. The descriptions of violence are not sensational. Without much effort, readers will become absorbed by Amabelle's story.
When I was a child, I used to spend hours playing with my shadow, something my father warned could give me nightmares, nightmares like seeing voices twirl in a hurricane of rainbow colors and hearing the odd shapes of things rise up and speak to define themselves. Playing with my shadow made me, an only child, feel less alone. Whenever I had playmates, they were never quite real or present for me. I considered them only replacements for my shadow. There were many shadows, too, in the life I had beyond childhood. At times Sebastien Onius guarded me from the shadows. At other times he was one of them.
This is the Danticat I know
That is the historical background, but what makes this book great is the fantastic characters and the voice of Amabelle, the Haitian worker who escapes the massacre with her body but leaves her happiness behind. I thought the whole book was done so well - the writing, the characters, the setting, the pace - everything. I was afraid that a book with such a dark topic would be overwhelmingly sad to read, but Danticat has a way of making the sadness not seem dreary. I'll definitely read more of her books.
The first half of this story is truly riveting. You can tell that the story is leading up to something horrible, the massacre that takes place is where the story starts to slowly unravel. I felt like the story kind of fell apart at the end. There were moments I wished the book would pick up pace, the main character seemed to just float through moments in her life, not really seeming to be there as anything more than an observer,
It is a harsh story that once finished, you remember the story, the plot, the characters, and the crisis in Haiti at the time. I wanted to like this book a lot more than I did, because it introduced me to a world I didn't know. Yet the overly formal poetic language distanced me from her plight. But still, it is worth reading.
Amabelle moves cautiously thru life since her parents' drowning when she was 8, and the first portion of the book reflects her distance, her yearning for her
I
This is just the beginning of Danticat's tale as we follow Haitian servant Amabelle Desir as she works in a wealthy Dominican Republic household. Life seems to be perfect considering the circumstances and her position in life. She is passionately in love with a cane worker she plans to marry and her employer was once a childhood playmate. They get along and Amabelle is treated well. Enter Domincan Republican dictator Rafael Trujillo and his plan to wipe out the entire Haitian population by mass genocide. Those who can not flee fast enough are subject to horrific torture before being hacked or burned to death. Amabelle's world is turned upside down when she is separated from her love as she tries to escape the massacre.
The ending was perfect. I won't give it away, but in order for this book to mean something there was no other ending possible.
The story overall is subtle and understated and builds slowly. This author writes of horrific events that came to be known as the Parsley Massacre in a sparse way yet vividly conveys the shock, disbelief and fear that was felt as Amabelle stumbles through this time of terror, searching for her loved ones and making her escape to Haiti.
The Farming of the Bones is a story of loss and grief. I felt that this was a very personal novel for the author as it projected a feeling of giving evidence or bearing witness. For me, I found this story to be a hauntingly beautiful written example of man’s constant inhumanity to man.
Amabelle has already been through so much by the time the book opens. Her past is buried in her nightmares and soon she will be facing new dangers. Despite all the heartbreak, violence and death, Amabelle remains a survivor both in body and spirit.
The book reminds me most of Waiting for the Barbarians by J.M. Coetzee. Both have humanity in flight, violence brought on by state sponsored bigotry and a stubborn will to survive. The language is beautiful and heartbreaking.
I learned of the book through Elise Blackwell's guest post. It was the first book on her list of recommended reads of historical fiction. She describes the genre as "lying to tell the truth." I plan to read through the remaining books that I haven't already read.
Recommended by Elise Blackwell
The beginning of this book was quite intriguing but Amabelle's latter years did not quite take shape. It seems as if the author just did not know what direction Amabelle's life should have taken after the massacre. I was very disappointed when Sebastien was simply lost in the narrative when he was lost during the massacre. It is never confirmed if he is killed during the massacre or if he escaped. We are left to assume the worse. Amabelle escapes the massacre with Sebastien's best friend Yves. Even though Amabelle spends the rest of her life living with Yves and his mother, Amabelle and Yves never really form a close relationship of any kind. The most interesting part of the narrative for me is when death, during the massacre, was determined by whether or not a person could pronounce the Spanish translation of the word parsley. The Dominican people knew that the Kreyol speaking Haitians could not pronounce the trill of the "r" of perejil which was the Spanish translation of parsley. This reminded me of the word "shibboleth" used in the Bible to determine the regional origin of the displaced Ephraimites (Judges 12:5-6). I cannot help but wonder did the author have this in mind when writing this area of the text. Initially, I could not put this book down but the last stretch was hard for me to work through. I hated the ending. It was so elusive that I wanted to scream.
This was my first Edwidge Danticat novel and I look forward to reading more of her work. Danticat's writing style reminds me of Toni Morrison's but without the complexity. Her characters have a lot of ambiguity like Morrison. I like the overall writing style of Danticat but I did not like the structure of this particular novel.
And oh, the trauma, the noncomprehension, the aging a century in a moment. And the sick irony that moral law is law, no more or less breakable, and when a Trujillo takes over "thou shalt not kill" becomes as ephemeral as the word perejil, its consequences as eternal as the speaking of that shibboleth, as eternal as separation.
In my quest to learn more about Haiti, The Farming of Bones satisfied my curiosity to a degree. But I still need to know more. The use of copies of President Sténio Vincent’s letter from 1937 on the endpapers was a tasteful way to further engage the discriminating reader. This French document is a supporting one to this work. I will search for a translated English version. The cover art captures the scene of a cane field with the background of the waterfall to which Annabelle was continually drawn.
Throughout the reading, I questioned the absence of a glossary to help the American reader understand Haitian terminology. But by the time I finished the book, I considered the omission of a glossary sheer genius. I wonder if Danticat knew the time would come when her works would be widely read. And did she feel it her native duty to merely pique the attention of her readers to the point of seeking further into the history of Haiti outside of her works?
The author’s touching sentiment to her mother, in the Acknowledgements reads: To my manman, my muse, who taught me all about pèsi and other mysteries. Yes, I do always remember that these stories — and all the others — are yours to tell and not mine. I’ve interpreted the expression captured in the author’s jacket photo as an extension of this sentiment, saying, “I’ve poured my life into sharing the stories you told me. My heart is heavy with hope that you are pleased with my endeavor.”
After viewing the author’s suggested reading list, I have selected The Rainy Season: Haiti Since Duvalier by Amy Wilentz as a trusted and documented source for more detail on the history of this country. I will read and review it in Spring, 2010. I can see myself reaching for The Farming of Bones again in the distant future. For now, however, I look forward to reading more of Danticat’s works. (1998, 312 pages, $23.00)
Beautifully written historical fiction about the 1937 Haitian massacre in Hispaniola. Haitian workers had emigrated to the Dominican Republic, many to serve as sugar cane cutters. Protagonist Amabelle Désir, a Haitian orphan, is
The story is told in a linear fashion. It is interspersed with chapters told in present tense that allow the reader a glimpse into Amabelle’s interior world, as she attempts to work through her traumatic experiences. These sequences include haunting dreams, disjointed memories, and painful reflections. They are short and in bold type. It feels like a creative way to reflect the delay between the onset of a harrowing experience and the ability to speak about it. And the reader is relying upon Amabelle to tell a coherent story.
This is historical fiction of the highest quality. It is easy to empathize with the characters. While there is much death, there is also hope. The conclusion, which could have easily gone awry, is deftly handled and provides a sense of closure. It is superbly crafted. This book will linger in my memory.