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About wjduquette

Author, software engineer, and Lay Dominican.

Uncle Tom’s Cabin, by Harriet Beecher Stowe

This is one of those books that everyone knows about and has heard of
but no one actually reads anymore. It was so wildly popular in its day
that the reputation and ripoffs of the book have become the accepted
story line and the text itself is hardly known. And it’s the book that
supposedly started the Civil War, even though it was published in 1852,
years before the actual conflict began. Which is unfortunate, because
it’s a good story with exciting passages, interesting characters and plot
twists that you just can’t believe are happening. The scene where Eliza
escapes the slave hunters by jumping from ice floe to ice floe over the
Ohio river, clutching her baby, is so dramatic I had to put the book down
for a while. And the final scene with Uncle Tom is so sad it was
unbelievable that it was actually happening. What amazes me is that I
was able to get a degree in literature from a major university and was
never required to read it in a single course. What a pity.

The basic story is about Uncle Tom, a deeply religious black slave who is
sold away from his wife and young children when his owner falls into
debt. Uncle Tom is not a shambling, “aw shucks massa” character but
rather a Christ figure whose horrible fate is caused by the accepted
institutions and laws of the land. He’s a young, intelligent man with
more conscience and grace than any of the white people in the book.

That’s what I never realized about the book. Stowe is writing a book for
and about white people and their own rationalizations that allowed
slavery to continue and even be politically tolerated by the non-slave
holding North. Uncle Tom and the other black characters in the book are a
mirror that reflected back on the white readers their own prejudices.
They are archetypes, not real people. Over time the image has changed and
“Uncle Tom” has denigrated to an epithet. If it is keeping people from
the book, that is a shame.

A Sign of Aging

They say that memory is the first thing to go, but I find that aging is
more easily measured by the things that arrive. Like today, when we took
delivery of the first reclining chair I have ever personally owned.
I’ve always felt that buying a recliner would be the final step in giving in to
couch-potato-hood, a state I find it too easy to enter as it is. But
there it is, and here it is. I’m sitting in it as I write.
It’s a quintessential “daddy chair”, a big wingback on stout wooden legs that
reclines until it takes up three times as much space. Even Nero Wolfe
would be comfortable in this chair.

But the fact that we bought a recliner is nothing next to a more
insidious change: we’re starting to buy decent furniture. No longer does
“furniture shopping” mean picking up a couple of cheap bookcases at Ikea.
Instead, it means spending three hours looking at fabric samples and
still having to flip a coin to make the final choice.

Of course, I can still remember when furniture shopping meant going to
lumberyard to pick up some cinder blocks and particle-board to make
bookshelves.

HOWDY!

Howdy, and welcome to my new web log, “A View from the Foothills”.
I’ll be posting news and information about this site, book reviews that
will later appear in Ex Libris
Reviews
, and reflections on any topic that I care to write about.
If you’re a regular reader of Ex
Libris Reviews
, you’ll probably want to keep reading it, as
only part of its contents will appear in this space.