Pulling the Chariot of the Sun
A Memoir of a Kidnapping
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- £8.99
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- £8.99
Publisher Description
VULTURE'S BEST MEMOIR OF THE YEAR
A NEW STATESMAN BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR
Shane McCrae was born to a white mother and a Black father. At eighteen months old, he was kidnapped from his parents’s house. His maternal grandparents transported him to suburban Texas, wishing to hide his Blackness from him. In the years that followed, they manipulated and controlled him, believing they were doing what was best for Shane. While in their house, Blackness would always be the worst thing about him.
Pulling the Chariot of the Sun is a revelatory account of what it means to be Black in America, written with virtuosity and heart by one of the finest poets writing today. It illuminates how we all might be made whole again, through a tireless search for the truth and the joyful pursuit of what we love.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
Poet and National Book Award finalist McCrae (In the Language of My Captor) recounts the jaw-dropping circumstances of his childhood in this exceptional memoir. In 1978, when McCrae was three years old, his white supremacist grandparents kidnapped him from Oregon and transported him to Texas, where they raised him as their own child, hoping to "save" him from the influence of his Black father (his mother, having been abused by her parents, didn't intervene). McCrae was frequently beaten and belittled by his grandfather, who taunted him for being half Black ("You don't want to look like them, do you?"). Never given the full story of his lineage, he began to mix the lies his grandparents told him with his own fuzzy memories of the past—in one lyrical passage, he remembers running down the aisle of a fabric store "from illusion to illusion" and into the arms of his grandmother, which he knows can't be true, because she "wasn't often physically affectionate." At age 15, McCrae discovered poetry and threw himself into it wholesale; the confidence he drew from writing moved him to find his father, which he hazily recounts here, copping to the fact that his memories of the reunion are choppy and inconsistent. McCrae's account of the abuses he endured are unflinching, but readers will walk away with a stronger sense of awe than pity, both for his resilience and his command of language. This gorgeous meditation on family, race, and identity isn't easy to shake.
