Buffalo. A father's funeral. Memory. And Luclle Clifton merges her formidable weapons of poetry with the powerr of her prose, giving us a memoir of stark and profound beauty. Her story focuses on the lives of Caroline, "born among the Dahomey people in 1822," who walked North from New Orleans to Virginia in 1830 when she was eight years old; Lucy, the first black woman to be hanged in Virginia; and Gene, born with a withered arm, the son of a Yankee carpetbagger and the author's grandmother. Lucille Clifton tells us about the death of her father and mother and all that life and love and triumph that came before and remains even now. "I look at my husband," writes Ms. Clifton, "and our six children and I feel the Dahomey women gathering in my bones." Ms. Clifton's poetry has been called "lean, hard and graceful." But there are no accurate adjectives to describe her prose. Let's just say perfect.
Lucille Clifton was an American poet, writer, and educator from New York. Common topics in her poetry include the celebration of her African American heritage, and feminist themes, with particular emphasis on the female body.
She was the first person in her family to finish high school and attend college. She started Howard University on scholarship as a drama major but lost the scholarship two years later.
Thus began her writing career.
Good Times, her first book of poems, was published in 1969. She has since been nominated twice for the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry and has been honored as Maryland's Poet Laureate.
Ms. Clifton's foray into writing for children began with Some of the Days of Everett Anderson, published in 1970.
In 1976, Generations: A Memoir was published. In 2000, she won the National Book Award for Poetry, for her work "Poems Seven".
From 1985 to 1989, Clifton was a professor of literature and creative writing at the University of California, Santa Cruz. She was Distinguished Professor of Humanities at St. Mary's College of Maryland. From 1995 to 1999, she was a visiting professor at Columbia University. In 2006, she was a fellow at Dartmouth College.
Clifton received the Robert Frost Medal for lifetime achievement posthumously, from the Poetry Society of America.
A rather compelling but achingly thin family memoir written on the occasion of a poet mourning her dead father. Stretching back a half dozen generations to the abduction of Caroline (Mammy Ca¡¯line) of the Dahomey tribe in West Africa to the dying industrial dream of Buffalo, New York, Generations cluster (in the form of description and genealogical connection) about certain events and then blends and bleeds both forward and back in a tacit estimation of life¡¯s meaning in these here United States. There simply isn¡¯t much to this narrative.
After her father¡¯s death, Clifton, an award-winning poet, felt compelled to delve into her African American family¡¯s history. Echoing biblical genealogies, she recites her lineage in a rhythmic way and delivers family anecdotes that had passed into legend. First came Caroline, ¡°Mammy Ca¡¯line¡±: born in Africa in 1822 and brought to America as a child slave, she walked north from New Orleans to Virginia at age eight, became a midwife, and died free. Mammy Ca¡¯line¡¯s sayings lived on through Clifton¡¯s father, her grandson: she ¡°would tell us that we was Sayle people and we didn¡¯t have to obey nobody. You a Sayle, she would say. You from Dahomey women.¡± Then came Caroline¡¯s daughter, Lucy Sale, famously the first Black woman hanged in Virginia ¨C for shooting her white lover. And so on until we get to Clifton herself, who grew up near Buffalo, New York and attended Howard University.
The chapter epigraphs from Walt Whitman¡¯s ¡°Song of Myself¡± call into question how much of an individual¡¯s identity is determined by their family circumstances. While I enjoyed the sideways look at slavery and appreciated the poetic take on oral history, I thought more detail and less repetition would have produced greater intimacy.
? Sunday Quick Read ? GENERATIONS: A Memoir by Lucille Clifton, 1976.
Poetic genealogy // Clifton's memoir traces back 4 generations to her great-grandmother Caroline "born free among the Dahomey people in 1822 and died free in Bedford, Virginia in 1910". Clifton based the memoir on the stories of her father, Samuel Sayles, as he retraced his family's history throughout the eastern US, from enslavement in the South to the migration north to Buffalo, New York.
An exquisite prose poem and family memoir, interleaved with quotes from Walt Whitman's epic "Song of Myself", calling Clifton's own celebration of her ancestors. GENERATIONS is a small volume, yet heavy with emotional weight.
"Things don't fall apart. Things hold. Lines connect in thin ways that last and last..."
This is a lovely book. In this memoir the poet Lucille Clifton remembers her family, and especially its women, all the way back to her great-great grandmother Caroline who came from Dahomey to New Orleans then walked to Virginia in 1830. Clifton covers all the distance from Dahomey to where her family eventually wound up in Buffalo, NY in only 87 pages. The prose is spare and as lyrical as the poetry she's known for. The portrait of individuals is clear-eyed, and she assembles them into a story that's profound. The outspoken love she expresses runs deep, all the way back to 8-year old Caroline walking to Virginia.
More like 3.5 stars but rounded up because I love Lucille Clifton.
This book is very hard to find. No longer in print and can't purchase online for a reasonable price. Thank God for inter-library loans! An extremely quick read about Clifton's family, with most of the focus on her father and great grandmother. Reads like poetry. I wish this was a fuller read, but I'll take what I can get from Clifton.
Though sometimes retreading ground, you can tell this is written by a poet. A cadence forms in the reiteration and the story itself takes on a kind of shape that, had it been a simple exposition dump like most contemporary memoirs, probably wouldn¡¯t have had the same gravity. The space between, small though the overall book is, is highly effective at the through line. Something many, maybe most, memoirs tend to struggle with. I was surprised at how much love and hope there is for the future, even in the same breath as acknowledging some of the generational pain and harm done, and how it effected her father. Another point that might have been made in much more detail in other styles in the same format.
Had it not had as much retreading for sake of the musicality of some structural choices, I think this might have been a five star read.
I've been reading a lot of Lucille Clifton's poetry after recently being reminded of her greatness. As such, I was curious to know where this force of a woman came from. In short, she came from Dahomey women. Each generation, from the paternal matriarch Caroline born in Africa in 1822 to Sam and Thelma (Clifton's adored father and beloved mother whom she was named for), is introduced to the reader with a stanza from Walt Whitman's Song of Myself. As with everything else she's written, this is composed beautifully and reads just as wonderfully as her poetry. Though a quick read, it offers a little backstory into the origins of an incredible woman and literary icon. The brevity did leave me wanting more, but I am still very appreciative of the insight it did provide on Clifton's personal, familial history.
Lucille Clifton¡¯s Generations is described by Tracy Smith in the introduction as ¡°her poetically terse and emotionally epic prose memoir first published in 1976.¡± And she writes this: ¡°here in America, and perhaps everywhere, no matter who we have been made to believe that we are, we are¡ªall of us¡ªthe children of slaves.¡± Ponder this.
The experience of reading it truly feels epic. Many times the lineage of the family from the Dahomey people is repeated like a refrain. Lucille was named ¡°for Dahomey women.¡± Her great grandmother Lucy who killed a white man, Harvey Nichols, the father of her child, was part of this lineage.
The stories are not told linearly. They are told the way they were heard by Lucille. It is a short book and poetic, with old photos and quotes from Walt Whitman. The last one is: ¡°Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with linguists and contenders, I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.¡± (Walt Whitman) Highly recommend
Things don¡¯t fall apart. Things hold. Lines connect in thin ways that last and last and lives become generations made out of pictures and words just kept. ¡°We come out of it better than they did, Lue,¡± my Daddy said, and I watch my six children and know we did. They walk with confidence through the world, free sons and daughters of free folk, for my Mama told me that slavery was a temporary thing, mostly we was free and she was right. And she smiled when she said it and Daddy smiled too and saw that my sons are as strong as my daughters and it had been made right.
And I could tell you about things we been through, some awful ones, some wonderful, but I know that the things that make us are more than that, our lives are more than the days in them, our lives are our line and we go on. I type that and I swear I can see Ca¡¯line standing in the green of Virginia, in the green of Afrika, and I swear she makes no sound but she nods her head and smiles.
the work I dream to read, a marvelous display of archival practice, kin, history, and linage. Clifton can do no wrong in my eyes.
¡°In history, even the lies are true.¡±
"Things don't fall apart. Things hold. Lines connect in thin ways that last and last and lives become generations made out of pictures and words just kept."
¡°Things don't fall apart. Things hold. Lines connect in thin ways that last and last and lives become generations made out of pictures and words just kept.¡±
This was a hidden gem. Written in 1976 by Lucille Clifton, an American poet, who mourns the loss of her father and reflects on the generations that came before her. This extends five generations back to Caroline (Ca¡¯line) Donald, born in 1822 among the Dahomey people before being captured and forced to come to America as a slave. Each member of the family is deeply connected by those who came before.
This was short, and nearly read like poetry. I thought it was beautiful, yet understated. So much was said in such few pages.
I love Lucille Clifton¡¯s poetry, her prose? breathtaking, this is how you write a memoir. less about herself but the family members whose spirit gathers in her bones¡ªa triumphant vision for the future
¡°And I could tell you about things we been through, some awful ones, some wonderful, but I know that the things that make us are more than that, our lives are more than the days in them, our lives are our line and we go on.¡±
A short and powerful look at Lucille Clifton¡¯s family history. Important because, as she says, no one remembers the names of slaves except for their children.
This slim book is a memoir, and a family history. Written by a poet, which gives it an ease and pacing and repetition that is memorable, comfortable, and feels very safe and homey.
Clifton frames this around her father's funeral, a time when she traveled home, saw lots of relatives, and thought a lot about her father's life and the stories he told about their family history. And that is what we have here. The repetition feels exactly like a parent telling their children stories--the same things pop up here and there, with different phrasing and context. She frames how he taught her to be brave and capable and confident despite your surroundings, just like his great-grandmother who raised him from the age of 8. Clifton took all of this to heart.
There is a good family tree (with sources) on familysearch.org. It does not go back to Caroline and the first Lucy--whether their passed-down history is exactly 100% true (lack of online sources does not mean it is not true, as any historian or genealogist can confirm) is irrelevant in light of the relevance and importance of the stories to the later generations, giving them history and background and love.
As a historian and genealogist, I wish everyone (especially the oldest generations) would write their own version of this. No they would not be poetic and evocative like this, but they would still be important within their own families and even to their own local historical/genealogical societies.
Lucille Clifton beautifully paints her complicated family dynamic. I really enjoyed the way she tells of her love for each family member despite their faults and the tribulations that may have occurred to complicate those relationships!
here clifton archives her family history as a response to her father¡¯s death. it feels like a lost art knowing details about one¡¯s ancestors: how they walked, the phrases they used, what kinds of people they were. reading this felt sacred, like i was being included into an act of self-creation and self-preservation. i am palpably afraid of death and grief, and therefore feel motivated the numb and forget. clifton, however, carries the past¡ªand feeling, therefore¡ªwith grace.
reading this short book brought me a sense of kinship. i am not alone in my effort to remember, recall, reimagine the past. i am not alone in thinking it is important.
This is a short and elegant history of Clifton's family. The structure recalls poetry through repetition and intergenerational themes. It's beautiful! I rarely fail to be impressed by poets' memoirs and this is no exception. This is worth seeking out.
Wow. Just wow. I don¡¯t even know where to start with this book, but I¡¯ll give it my best shot.
I first stumbled across Lucille¡¯s poetry, specifically ¡°won¡¯t you celebrate with me¡±. Her famous last line was written above my bed in my sophomore year dorm room. The way that she portrayed her struggles, not as obstacles but as steps to her creation¡ª it was inspiring.
Last week I was in Strand Bookstore in nyc & stumbled again upon another creation of Lucille¡¯s, this time a memoir. It looked short and interesting¡ª the vague title intrigued me so I bought it and picked it up. I highly underestimated the effect that 87 pages can have on a person.
Lucille, and I use her first name intentionally in this praise, documents stories that were either passed down or created during her lifetime from family members, dating 5 generations. Her great-great-grandmother Caroline, or Ca¡¯line, has the tagline ¡°born a free woman in Afrika in 1822, died a free woman in Virginia in 1902.¡± Stories are told about Ca¡¯line (& her private, arguably clandestine life), Ca¡¯line¡¯s daughter Lucille, Lucille¡¯s son Genie, Genie¡¯s son Samuel, & Samuel¡¯s daughter Lucille Clifton.
Lucille¡¯s name means light, and that is exactly what she brings to her family¡¯s history and the interconnected family web. The way that she copes with mortality and identity throughout her writing, throughout the stories of the people who have helped make & shape her, is so profound.
This is a great memoir for so many reasons¡ª to understand Lucille¡¯s poetry, to grapple with identity and how that fits into (pre-written) histories, to grieve even when there has been pain AND love. I am so grateful to have read such an amazing book and I cannot recommend this book enough.
More of a 'prelude to the actions of a life', Clifton's work connects threads that, when put together, build her into who she is. These threads already have a multiple articulation. Take laughter, she writes (Pg.19)
"There was a Pennsylvanian driving behind us, driving too close to our station wagon. A whiteboy driver in a cowboy hat driving a cowboy car and bent down low and stiff over the steering wheel. Sammy and I pointed at him and laughed loud and fell down all in the seat and the poor Pennsylvania whiteboy sat straight up and gunned around us three crazy spooks driving North and sped the hell in front of us and across the mountains scared and driving like hell. Fred started to speed and we strained trying to catch up with him and laugh at him some more but we looked across every mountain and he was gone."
Here, laughter forms a territory, a place of safety that can be carried around. However, laughter also is necessarily unstable, a hazy defense.
Pg.84:
"I always felt that I was supposed to make things right, only I didn't know how, I didn't know how. I used to laugh and laugh at the dinner table till they thought I was crazy but I was so anxious to make things right."
When reading the work, I felt this uneasy laughter constantly, able to burst out or not, but always haunting the mood of the work, just like past relatives.
At the end, Clifton writes,
"Things don't fall apart. Things hold. Lines connect in thin ways that last and last and lives become generations made out of pictures and words just kept."
Laughter, similar to repetition, doesn't break these lines up, but it can express their thinness.
I read this novella for Black History month. Written in poetic prose, the author, poet Lucille Clifton, tells the history of her family from slavery to the present. Although it is not a thorough excavation of her family history with lots of places and experiences, she does reveal her family through vignettes of the family members that shaped the family¡¯s sense of who they are, women like Mammy Ca¡¯line, born into slavery and walked from New Orleans to Virginia at age 8 and her aunt who was the first black womanly hung in Virginia.
I recommend this because of all that Clifton revealed in so few pages.