The Invention of Wings, by Sue Monk Kidd
I always find it difficult to write these posts about books I’ve read for the book club. On the one hand, I really want to express my personal reaction to these books. On the other hand, that reaction has now been affected by a group discussion. I’ve realized over time that there is no point in being a purist; all of our ideas, no matter how personal, are affected by conversations, relationships, and the world we live in.
Ok; so what did I really think of The Invention of Wings? I liked it a lot, but not as much as most of the members in the book club. It was a tough read for me at times, this month in particular. My limit of how much I can take humans being terrible to each other has been exceeded literally every day and my triggered generational trauma and fear of rising antisemitism have left my internal emotional boundaries much more porous than usual. There were several occasions where I had to stop reading and put the book down for a while; it felt like literally too much.
Intellectually, though, I appreciate the graphic descriptions of slavery in this book. I certainly didn’t want it to be sanitized. I assume that as a white woman from Georgia, Sue Monk Kidd had to face and grapple with the history her ancestors were presumably part of and I admire her willingness to do so. And I know that the experience of slavery was much, much worse than any work of fiction could portray.
The Invention of Wings follows the story of two women. Handful is enslaved on the Grimke plantation. Sarah is a daughter of the slave owning family. Their paths collide when Handful is given to Sarah as a birthday present (yes, you read that right). Sarah is a young abolitionist (before she even knows that word) and continues to struggle with “that peculiar institution.” Handful worries about the insurrection living inside of her mother, even as she develops her own personal brand of rebellion.
As the women get older, Handful continues to live on the plantation, while Sarah makes her painful way out in the world. Sarah Grimke is actually a real person and the novel is a fictionalized account of how she developed into a leading abolitionist as well as an outspoken advocate for women’s rights at a time when both were unpopular. Cognitively, I’m a little uncomfortable with a white author creating a black character to help tell the story of a white woman. However, I recognize that it works as a literary device and helps to decenter Sarah’s story. It is written in a way where Handful matters. Her thoughts matter, her experiences matter, and not just to Sarah. They matter because she is a human being, and they matter to us (the readers) as well.
The most impactful part of this book for me was the narrative around the basis for Sarah’s anti-slavery belief. Simply put, there are none. She knows intuitively that slavery is wrong from a very young age and she never wavers in that belief. It’s a pet peeve of mine when the actions or beliefs of people in the past are excused by saying, “It was just the times.” That actually was never the case. Throughout history, there have always been people standing up for what’s right, no matter how unpopular or how dire the consequences were. (If you’re interested in learning more about this, I recommend A People’s History of the United States by Howard Zinn). Sarah Grimke was one of those people, and I truly believe that learning more about stories like hers can inspire us to stand up for what is right, even when it feels like the whole world is against us.
Research shows that reading fiction helps develop empathy and compassion. Along with that, it can inspire us to become a better, stronger, braver version of ourselves. Somehow Sarah Grimke found the bravest version of herself; I like to think we could all do that.
—Babs
