Memphis
a vivid Southern debut paying tribute to an indelible family of females, longlisted for the Women's Prize for Fiction 2023
-
- 0,99 €
Description de l’éditeur
'A rhapsodic hymn to Black women' New York Times Book Review
FAMILY CAN HOLD YOU TOGETHER. AND TEAR YOU APART.
Joan was only a child the last time she visited Memphis. She doesn't remember the bustle of Beale Street on a summer's night or the smell of honeysuckle as she climbs the porch steps to her aunt's house. But when the front door opens, she immediately remembers her cousin Derek.
As Joan learns more about her family's past she discovers she's not the only North woman to have experienced great hurt. But she also sees their resilience and courage, how these extraordinary women fry green tomatoes and braid hair and sing all the while.
Joan can't change the past, but she can change her future. It's time to find her own song to sing.
LONGLISTED FOR THE WOMEN'S PRIZE FOR FICTION
SHORTLISTED FOR THE WATERSTONES DEBUT FICTION PRIZE
**** READERS LOVE MEMPHIS ****
'I couldn't put it down. You will fall in love with these women'
'One of the best books I've ever read'
'Utterly spellbinding'
'This book has my entire heart'
'It felt so real - I cried at their pain and smiled at their joy'
'Intricately plotted, wildly satisfying'
'Epic, in every sense of the word. It completely blew me away'
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
Stringfellow's vibrant debut celebrates the resilience of women over multiple generations in a Black Memphis family, as well as the city that is central to their lives. In 1995, Miriam North flees her abusive husband with their two daughters, returning to Memphis to live with her sister, August, in the house Miriam and August grew up in. Stringfellow tells the story in bits and pieces, moving backward and forward in time; there's a hint early on that Derek, August's 15-year-old son, harmed Miriam's 10-year-old daughter, Joan, when they were younger. The reunion—and the tension felt by Joan—sets the stage for an unearthing of family secrets and an exploration of the traumas each generation has survived. As the narrative stretches further into the past, the reader learns about Miriam's mother, Hazel, and how she endured the aftermath of her husband's lynching in the 1950s. Stringfellow romanticizes Memphis—"Magnolias were white with bloom and as fragrant as honeysuckle.... There was music. There was always music in Memphis"—even as she lays bare its history of racism and violence. Just when this starts to feel sentimental, the author makes it achingly real. This satisfies like a bowl of butter pecan.
