Song Yet Sung

James McBride has managed the astonishing feat of pursuing two different creative career paths - jazz composer/musician and writer - without letting either interfere with the other. His 1996 debut, The Color of Water, was a memoir and tribute of a black man to his white mother. His second book, the gripping 2002 novel Miracle at St. Anna, concerned black American soldiers in the mountains of northern Italy toward the end of World War II. The new novel, Song Yet Sung, is something else again. In 1850, beautiful young slave Liz Spocott escapes from her Maryland plantation, and encounters both slave catchers and the black underground that transmits news and helps runaway slaves via "the code" - a peoples' telegraph sent by quilts, rope knots, and the slam of a blacksmith's hammer. Liz is also a little tetched: she's rumored to be a "two-headed woman, a dreamer, a conjurer," because she has visions of the future. More than a few folks are pursuing her, from Patty Cannon, a tough and profane slave catcher (a real person, McBride reveals in an afterward), with her crew of unsavory white and black thugs; to Denwood Long, "The Gimp," who comes out of retirement from slave catching for the huge reward Liz's owner has offered for the girl's return. Deceptively simple, the narrative is clean, spare, and relentless. McBride's prose reminds me of the proverbial duck: smooth and tranquil above the surface to mask the furious paddling of novelistic invention and research underneath. The characters, from poor white laborers and venal lawmen to black teen slaves, are rich and complex. Some of the best scenes depict natural enemies feeling each other out in guarded conversations and coming to truces of potential benefit to both sides. McBride offers a fecund portrait of the Delaware peninsula, as well: the marshy, almost jungle-like land on the east side of Chesapeake Bay, sparsely populated by oystermen, small farms, and the occasional wildman-recluse. Though rarely fancy, the language gives a strong sense of character and place. A man is said to move "like smoke with muscles" in a fight. Someone says: "Don't waste breath on him; he's deader'n yesterday's beer." Trust me on this: Song Yet Sung (and Miracle at St. Anna) are more intense and startling than I can convey. Scenes don't make sense yet somehow feel right. The only possible misstep are Liz's visions of what are easily recognizable as hip-hop gangstas, Martin Luther King's march on Washington, and other specific snapshots of black American history a century and more away. Miracle at St. Anna was recently filmed in Tuscany by Spike Lee, with a cast that includes James Gandolfini and John Turturro and a release date of October 2008. McBride wrote the screenplay. Meanwhile, he has composed songs for Anita Baker, Grover Washington, and Gary Burton, and played tenor sax in Little Jimmy Scott's band. One shakes one's head: just being able to write a novel as beautiful as this would be enough for anyone els

James McBride's Song Yet Sung is a great addition to the genre of African American literature. McBride weaves a complex story that begins with runaway slave, Liz Spocott. Liz is near death when she is captured by a slave trader. She finds herself imprisoned with a small group of slaves. In this group is a `woman with no name' who tries to explain the much guarded slavery `Code' to Liz, but Liz is confused by the woman's curious ranting and is overcome by dreams of the future. Liz inadvertently frees herself and the group of slaves. She continues to have strange dreams of tomorrow. The news of her dreams spread as she makes her way through the unfamiliar countryside. Liz's journey becomes entwined with many others: slaves unveiling parts of the Code to her; slave catchers seeking to capture her; and various members of the community that are unknowingly linked together through Liz. McBride touches on the past, present, and future of our racially divided country. Song Yet Sung has a lyrical style that runs the full range of emotions and shows the complexity of the human spirit. This wonderfully written work will strike a chord with readers. Reviewed by M. P. McKinney APOOO BookClub

There is an amazing book of short stories from Eduardo Galeano called Book of Embraces (Norton Paperback). In one of the most amazing vignettes, "Celebration of the Human Voice 2", Galeano talks about life in a Uruguayan prison. Prisoners, unable to speak, invented their own communication system with fingers. Galeano writes, "When it is genuine, when it is born of the need to speak, no one can stop the human voice". I kept on thinking of that quote in James McBride's powerful, moving, amazing new book, "Song Yet Sung", for his characters, many of whom have no voice, still find ways to speak across the miles, and across the pages. This novel starts with Liz, who is nicknamed the Dreamer, and her gift of seeing the future is well known and well feared in pre-Civil War Maryland. Captured by a notorious slave catcher named Patty Cannon, Liz meets an old woman who spins her own fantastic tale of "the Code", none of which makes sense either to us or Liz. Determined to escape from her attic confines, Liz makes a daring move and frees herself and everyone else in the attic, thus starting the rest of the story, which is a hunt for Liz. Liz's former owner and secret paramour hires a succesful slave catcher himself, Denwood Long, unfortunately named "the Gimp", who has a haunted past himself. Along with him, Patty Cannon gathers her own posse of people to ruthlessly hunt Liz. There is even a backwoods "bogey man", called the Woolman, who comes into the story in a very believable and chilling way. However, it's Liz where much of the theme of the story lies. It's in her dreams that began to intrigue me. Here we have a slave, on the run, who defies wanting to be put on the Underground Railroad because her dreams of life for African-Americans up north, she sees, isn't good at all. McBride's reflections on some aspects of black culture intrigue. Slaves so longed for their freedom, and yet, look at where it has lead some of them. (Coincidentally, I have started watching HBO's visionary series The Wire - The Complete First Season). Will Liz decide, against her visions of the future, to escape? Secondly, McBride's description of "The Code" is simply amazing. I think this is the first novel that I've read where the path to the Underground Railroad was so brilliantly shown. It really was an amazing thing how the "Code" developed, and was known and understood by many. Simply by word of mouth, during a time of intense trial, people found their voice and sang in a way that saved many a life. Song Yet Sung is not only a reflection of culture, of life in the slave south, and a gripping adventure story, but it also is a celebration of the human spirit. As the book draws to an end, you do feel as if you've spent time in another world. Rich with descriptions, deeply felt characters, tension, and tenderness, Song Yet Sung will be a book that shall be with us for years on end, and hopefully, discussed, examined, to unlock its deep, rich treasures.

Normally I would not forgive an author for stretching reality to the point of this work - a civil war slave having dreams of Martin Luther King - but this author has a quality of writing that is almost too real. His characters have texture and heft, his scenes have smell and contour and you can believe that the dreamer longs for freedom so badly that she can "conjure" MLK. I have been reading slave naratives and the history of the war between the states since being a teenager, but NEVER has a book actually TAKEN me to that time period, scared me, made me grieve and make me feel such a total part of that sad history. This is an excellent tale told by a worthy author and he deserves to be put on your best book shelf - and shared with friends. Good job!

James McBride writes like the superb jazz musician that he is; the words flow with the sinuous enchantment of an inspired saxophone lick. McBride has opened a channel into the minds of slaves, slave catchers, and others along Maryland's eastern shore circa 1850. The swamps are choked with intrigue and suspense as runaways struggle to escape from the hands of their callous, greedy pursuers. One slave hunter is a woman. McBride draws an incredible picture of evil that is somehow tricked out with a few admirable qualities. Very few, but enough to give readers a glimmer of our own conflicted emotions. The central figure, Liz the Dreamer, possesses a tragic gift. She can see the future and she sees her people will still be enslaved, even today. McBride has penned a work for the ages.