Paperback, 225 pages
English language
Published Jan. 3, 1994 by Ballantine Books.
At the age of seven, Tituba watched as her mother was hanged for daring to wound a plantation owner who tried to rape her. She was raised from then on by Mama Yaya, a gifted woman who shared with her the secrets of healing and magic. But it was Tituba's love of the slave John Indian that led her from safety into slavery, and the bitter, vengeful religion practiced by the good citizens of Salem, Massachusetts. Though protected by the spirits, Tituba could not escape the lies and accusations of that hysterical time.
As history and fantasy merge, Maryse Condé, acclaimed author of Tree of Life and Segu, creates the richly imagined life of a fascinating woman.
At the age of seven, Tituba watched as her mother was hanged for daring to wound a plantation owner who tried to rape her. She was raised from then on by Mama Yaya, a gifted woman who shared with her the secrets of healing and magic. But it was Tituba's love of the slave John Indian that led her from safety into slavery, and the bitter, vengeful religion practiced by the good citizens of Salem, Massachusetts. Though protected by the spirits, Tituba could not escape the lies and accusations of that hysterical time.
As history and fantasy merge, Maryse Condé, acclaimed author of Tree of Life and Segu, creates the richly imagined life of a fascinating woman.
Lo malo de este tipo de libros es que te hacen perder la fe en la humanidad. Los hechos narrados ocurrieron hace 400 años y, en muchos aspectos, seguimos igual.
A fantastic work looking at race, religion, culture, gender, freedom, history, legacy... all sorts of aspects of identity, and all through the lens of Tituba, the first person accused during the Salem witch trials.
Tituba lived a hard life, some of which is a consequence of her identity and some of which is a consequence of her choices. This balance between the identity she inherited and the identity she developed over time drives all of the conflict in this book; her race and gender cause her as much grief as the people she associates with and the skills she develops. Few tragedies walk that line so well, where the protagonist has enough agency to cause their own sorrows but not so much that we lose our ability to feel sad at the consequences.
It's remarkable that I'd never heard of this book. It would be easier to use this as …
