Traitor to the Nation, Volume 1: The Pox Party
Reviewed by Rebecca Grabill
Oh, to find words. This is a masterful novel, intricate, moving. It would be difficult to find a point of critique - indeed, it would be ridiculous to think myself competent to critique it at all. I suppose the only drawback to the novel was the effect it had in causing me to walk about speaking in a terribly bad faux British accent throughout the duration of my reading. But, I’m over that now.
I don’t generally like to read the jacket copy of a book - it often gives away too much plot (as Karen Hancock’s first in the Guardian King Series does, telling a full two thirds of the plotline), or misleads about the point of the story (as I thought Blind Faith did, as the story was not so much about a mother’s depression as it was about … other things). And so, I dove into this novel without so much a glance at the inside covers. But after several arduous chapters, I was, in my confusion, forced to read it, to get even a glimmer of understanding as to what the begeebes was going on. But, it didn’t help - the blurb told me nothing the first several chapters revealed. After another 70 pages, I did the unthinkable, and read the Library of Congress description of the book (on the copyright page, for those who have never cheated like this). And I was helped immensely. From that point forward, the only struggles I had with the book were a. explaining to my children why Mommy was crying and b. putting it down.
The story is about the young slave, Octavian, and his experiences preceding and during the Revolutionary War. In his youth, Octavian lives a life of luxury as part of the household of the Novanglian College of Lucidity, well-dressed, well-fed, well-educated. He is, unknowingly, part of an experiment to determine the rational capacities of the African race. Already, I feel as if I’ve given away too much. I’ll elaborate only to add that the backdrop of the American Revolution - the Cause of Freedom - is bittersweet, and makes all the more poignant Octavian’s plight.
The novel is told through first-person narration, as well as through letters and articles (all of which were collected and compiled by the fictional Octavian later in his life). The first-person narrative predominates, written with an 18th century feel. The narrative walks the narrow line between authenticity and accessibility, and in most cases does not fall into the trap of the dialect being so completely rendered that it is senseless. The book is at the same time brilliantly engrossing, and heartrending. Anderson shows the brutality of slavery and war without gratuitousness, yet neither does it suffer a lack of detail. This book deserves to become a classic, yet I wonder if it will.
It is a heavy read, dense, emotionally draining. I read half of it nearly trembling with rage, and the rest with tears in my eyes - for Octavian, for the beauty of the writing. This book cannot be skimmed. It cannot, truly, be read. It must be absorbed, infused.
But I wonder, is the upcoming generation capable of absorption? I hope so. Woe to us all if it is not, but with the increasing decline of education, I am afraid. One thing is sure, however. As long as books such as this are published, as long as they are read and enjoyed, there is hope. And so it is without hesitation that I recommend this book. I am a better person, having read it.






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