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doreeny 's review for:
The Twelve Tribes of Hattie
by Ayana Mathis
This book is a family history of sorts. It begins with Hattie Shepherd leaving the Jim Crow South for a better life in Philadelphia. Hattie’s hope soon turns to despair after the loss of her firstborn children. Spanning the years 1925 to 1980, the book follows Hattie’s children and one grandchild, her twelve tribes. Each chapter concerns one or two of them as they strive to find a place for themselves in the world.
Though she is not the central character in all the chapters, Hattie’s influence is clearly evident throughout. It is her mothering, or lack thereof, that shapes each child. Saddled with a feckless husband, she must raise her children in crushing poverty. Devastated by her loss and faced with the relentless demands of caring for a growing number of children, she focuses only on providing their most basic needs of food, shelter, and clothing and preparing them for a world that she believes will not love them and will not be kind: “Hattie knew her children did not think her a kind woman – perhaps she wasn’t but there hadn’t been time for sentiment when they were young. She had failed them in vital ways, but what good would it have done to spend the days hugging and kissing if there hadn’t been anything to put in their bellies? They didn’t understand that all the love she had was taken up with feeding them and clothing them and preparing them to meet the world. The world would not love them; the world would not be kind” (236). Unfortunately, Hattie’s own spirit of hopelessness infects each child with the poverty of hopelessness as evidenced in the paths their lives take: one child is a closeted gay; another child becomes a fraudulent preacher; one son is sexually abused; another son becomes a gambler and a drunk; one daughter suffers from a mental disease; another daughter attempts suicide.
Despite Hattie’s failings as a mother, a discerning reader will find it impossible to hate her. As one of her daughters says, “Mother was never tender,” but “Mother has always done what’s necessary” (220). Whenever one of her children is in distress, she does come to their aid, even if that child has done something which hurt her more than she can find words to express (215) and which makes even the child believe she is undeserving of her mother’s forgiveness (190). Hattie too was a victim of circumstances: “Fate had plucked Hattie out of Georgia to birth eleven children and establish them in the North, but she was only a child herself, utterly inadequate to the task she’d been given” (236). Furthermore, she is not able to cultivate her inner life, as one of her daughter’s realizes: “Mother was a beautiful young woman; the house was too plain, too small to contain her. . . . I understood she had an inner life that didn’t have anything to do with me or my brothers and sisters” (221). When Hattie tries to escape and find some personal happiness, she is unsuccessful. One of her daughters observes, “She’d never seen any joy in her at all. Hattie had been stern and angry all of Bell’s life, and it occurred to her that her mother must have been unhappy most of the time” (201). Her husband perhaps best summaries Hattie’s life when he thinks, “There were too many disappointments to name and too much heartbreak” (106).
Hattie admits her shortcomings; she tells one of her daughters, “’I never did know what to do about my children’s spirits. I didn’t know how to help anybody in that way’”(215). Hattie’s sister gives the following description of Hattie: “Hattie had never been easy to love. She was too quiet, it was impossible to know what she was thinking. And she was angry all of the time and so disdainful when her high expectations weren’t met” (127). A daughter uses almost the same words: “How stoic and constant Mother was, how seething and unfathomable . . . secretive and quick-tempered” (201). In the end, Hattie admits, “She had been angry with her children, and with August, who’d brought her nothing but disappointment” (236) but suggests she is leaving that anger behind: “’But I’ve been mad all my life, and I finally figured out that I couldn’t keep carrying that with me. It’s too heavy and I’m tired’” (215). Anger “hadn’t served her when she was young and wouldn’t serve her now” (243). She may also have time to show tenderness: “she patted her granddaughter’s back roughly, unaccustomed as she was to tenderness” (243). It may have taken Hattie 55 years to change, but then human beings do not change easily, especially if they are as proud as Hattie.
I do not choose books because they are recommended by Oprah; in fact, I often choose not to read them if they appear on her lists. This time, however, I’m glad I overcame my initial reluctance. This is an excellent novel, especially considering it is a debut work. The story it tells of people “wounded and chastened” (111) can be bleak, but the book is beautifully written with a definite lyrical quality. The book may take the reader to dark places, but as Hattie says, “’Everybody’s been there’” (215), and we can learn from those visits.
Please check out my reader's blog (http://schatjesshelves.blogspot.ca/) and follow me on Twitter (@DCYakabuski).
Though she is not the central character in all the chapters, Hattie’s influence is clearly evident throughout. It is her mothering, or lack thereof, that shapes each child. Saddled with a feckless husband, she must raise her children in crushing poverty. Devastated by her loss and faced with the relentless demands of caring for a growing number of children, she focuses only on providing their most basic needs of food, shelter, and clothing and preparing them for a world that she believes will not love them and will not be kind: “Hattie knew her children did not think her a kind woman – perhaps she wasn’t but there hadn’t been time for sentiment when they were young. She had failed them in vital ways, but what good would it have done to spend the days hugging and kissing if there hadn’t been anything to put in their bellies? They didn’t understand that all the love she had was taken up with feeding them and clothing them and preparing them to meet the world. The world would not love them; the world would not be kind” (236). Unfortunately, Hattie’s own spirit of hopelessness infects each child with the poverty of hopelessness as evidenced in the paths their lives take: one child is a closeted gay; another child becomes a fraudulent preacher; one son is sexually abused; another son becomes a gambler and a drunk; one daughter suffers from a mental disease; another daughter attempts suicide.
Despite Hattie’s failings as a mother, a discerning reader will find it impossible to hate her. As one of her daughters says, “Mother was never tender,” but “Mother has always done what’s necessary” (220). Whenever one of her children is in distress, she does come to their aid, even if that child has done something which hurt her more than she can find words to express (215) and which makes even the child believe she is undeserving of her mother’s forgiveness (190). Hattie too was a victim of circumstances: “Fate had plucked Hattie out of Georgia to birth eleven children and establish them in the North, but she was only a child herself, utterly inadequate to the task she’d been given” (236). Furthermore, she is not able to cultivate her inner life, as one of her daughter’s realizes: “Mother was a beautiful young woman; the house was too plain, too small to contain her. . . . I understood she had an inner life that didn’t have anything to do with me or my brothers and sisters” (221). When Hattie tries to escape and find some personal happiness, she is unsuccessful. One of her daughters observes, “She’d never seen any joy in her at all. Hattie had been stern and angry all of Bell’s life, and it occurred to her that her mother must have been unhappy most of the time” (201). Her husband perhaps best summaries Hattie’s life when he thinks, “There were too many disappointments to name and too much heartbreak” (106).
Hattie admits her shortcomings; she tells one of her daughters, “’I never did know what to do about my children’s spirits. I didn’t know how to help anybody in that way’”(215). Hattie’s sister gives the following description of Hattie: “Hattie had never been easy to love. She was too quiet, it was impossible to know what she was thinking. And she was angry all of the time and so disdainful when her high expectations weren’t met” (127). A daughter uses almost the same words: “How stoic and constant Mother was, how seething and unfathomable . . . secretive and quick-tempered” (201). In the end, Hattie admits, “She had been angry with her children, and with August, who’d brought her nothing but disappointment” (236) but suggests she is leaving that anger behind: “’But I’ve been mad all my life, and I finally figured out that I couldn’t keep carrying that with me. It’s too heavy and I’m tired’” (215). Anger “hadn’t served her when she was young and wouldn’t serve her now” (243). She may also have time to show tenderness: “she patted her granddaughter’s back roughly, unaccustomed as she was to tenderness” (243). It may have taken Hattie 55 years to change, but then human beings do not change easily, especially if they are as proud as Hattie.
I do not choose books because they are recommended by Oprah; in fact, I often choose not to read them if they appear on her lists. This time, however, I’m glad I overcame my initial reluctance. This is an excellent novel, especially considering it is a debut work. The story it tells of people “wounded and chastened” (111) can be bleak, but the book is beautifully written with a definite lyrical quality. The book may take the reader to dark places, but as Hattie says, “’Everybody’s been there’” (215), and we can learn from those visits.
Please check out my reader's blog (http://schatjesshelves.blogspot.ca/) and follow me on Twitter (@DCYakabuski).