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COMING OF AGE IN MISSISSIPPI(ISBN=9780440314882)书籍详细信息
- ISBN：9780440314882
- 作者：暂无作者
- 出版社：暂无出版社
- 出版时间：1992-01
- 页数：424
- 价格：31.10
- 纸张：胶版纸
- 装帧：平装
- 开本：32开
- 语言：未知
- 丛书：暂无丛书
- TAG：暂无
- 豆瓣评分：暂无豆瓣评分
内容简介：
Moody's famous autobiography is a classic work on growing up
poor and Black in the rural South. Her searing account of life
before the Civil Rights Movement is as moving as The Color Purple
and as important as And Let Us Now Praise Famous Men. "A history of
our time . . . (and) a reminder that we cannot now relax".--Senator
Edward Kennedy.
书籍目录：
Part One: Childhood
Part Two: High School
Part Three: College
Part Four: The Movement
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书籍摘录：
Chapter One
I'm still haunted by dreams of the time we lived on Mr.
Carter's plantation. Lots of Negroes lived on his place. Like Mama
and Daddy they were all farmers. We all lived in rotten wood
two-room shacks. But ours stood out from the others because it was
up on the hill with Mr. Carter's big white house, overlooking the
farms and the other shacks below. It looked just like the Carters'
barn with a chimney and a porch, but Mama and Daddy did what they
could to make it livable. Since we had only one big room and a
kitchen, we all slept in the same room. It was like three rooms in
one. Mama them slept in one corner and I had my little bed in
another corner next to one of the big wooden windows. Around the
fireplace a rocking chair and a couple of straight chairs formed a
sitting area. This big room had a plain, dull-colored wallpaper
tacked loosely to the walls with large thumbtacks. Under each tack
was a piece of cardboard which had been taken from shoeboxes and
cut into little squares to hold the paper and keep the tacks from
tearing through. Because there were not enough tacks, the paper
bulged in places. The kitchen didn't have any wallpaper and the
only furniture in it was a wood stove, an old table, and a
safe.
Mama and Daddy had two girls. I was almost four and Adline was a
crying baby about six or seven months. We rarely saw Mama and Daddy
because they were in the field every day except Sunday. They would
get up early in the morning and leave the house just before
daylight. It was six o'clock in the evening when they returned,
just before dark.
George Lee, Mama's eight-year-old brother, kept us during the day.
He loved to roam the woods and taking care of us prevented him from
enjoying his favorite pastime. He had to be at the house before
Mama and Daddy left for the field, so he was still groggy when he
got there. As soon as Mama them left the house, he would sit up in
the rocking chair and fall asleep. Because of the solid wooden door
and windows, it was dark in the house even though it was nearing
daybreak. After sleeping for a couple of hours, George Lee would
jump up suddenly, as if he was awakened from a nightmare, run to
the front door, and sling it open. If the sun was shining and it
was a beautiful day, he would get all excited and start slinging
open all the big wooden windows, making them rock on their hinges.
Whenever he started banging the windows and looking out at the
woods longingly, I got scared.
Once he took us to the woods and left us sitting in the grass while
he chased birds. That night Mama discovered we were full of ticks
so he was forbidden to take us there any more. Now every time he
got the itch to be in the woods, he'd beat me.
One day he said, "I'm goin' huntin'." I could tell he meant to go
by himself. I was scared he was going to leave us alone but I
didn't say anything. I never said anything to him when he was in
that mood.
"You heard me!" he said, shaking me.
I still didn't say anything.
Wap! He hit me hard against the head; I started to boo-hoo as usual
and Adline began to cry too.
"Shut up," he said, running over to the bed and slapping a bottle
of sweetening water into her mouth.
"You stay here, right here," he said, forcing me into a chair at
the foot of the bed. "And watch her," pointing to Adline in the
bed. "And you better not move." Then he left the house.
A few minutes later he came running back into the house like he
forgot something. He ran over to Adline in the bed and snatched the
bottle of sweetening water from her mouth. He knew I was so afraid
of him I might have sat in the chair and watched Adline choke to
death on the bottle. Again he beat me up. Then he carried us on the
porch. I was still crying so he slapped me, knocking me clean off
the porch. As I fell I hit my head on the side of the steps and
blood came gushing out. He got some scared and cleaned away all
traces of the blood. He even tried to push down the big knot that
had popped up on my forehead.
That evening we sat on the porch waiting, as we did every evening,
for Mama them to come up the hill. The electric lights were coming
on in Mr. Carter's big white house as all the Negro shacks down in
the bottom began to fade with the darkness. Once it was completely
dark, the lights in Mr. Carter's house looked even brighter, like a
big lighted castle. It seemed like the only house on the whole
plantation.
Most evenings, after the Negroes had come from the fields, washed
and eaten, they would sit on their porches, look up toward Mr.
Carter's house and talk. Sometimes as we sat on our porch Mama told
me stories about what was going on in that big white house. She
would point out all the brightly lit rooms, saying that Old Lady
Carter was baking tea cakes in the kitchen, Mrs. Carter was reading
in the living room, the children were studying upstairs, and Mr.
Carter was sitting up counting all the money he made off
Negroes.
I was sitting there thinking about Old Lady Carter's tea cakes when
I heard Mama's voice: "Essie Mae! Essie Mae!"
Suddenly I remembered the knot on my head and I jumped off the
porch and ran toward her. She was now running up the hill with her
hoe in one hand and straw hat in the other. Unlike the other
farmhands, who came up the hill dragging their hoes behind them,
puffing and blowing, Mama usually ran all the way up the hill
laughing and singing. When I got within a few feet of her I started
crying and pointing to the big swollen wound on my forehead. She
reached out for me. I could see she was feeling too good to beat
George Lee so I ran right past her and headed for Daddy, who was
puffing up the hill with the rest of the field hands. I was still
crying when he reached down and swept me up against his broad
sweaty chest. He didn't say anything about the wound but I could
tell he was angry, so I cried even harder. He waved goodnight to
the others as they cut across the hill toward their shacks.
As we approached the porch, Daddy spotted George Lee headed down
the hill for home.
"Come here boy!" Daddy shouted, but George Lee kept walking.
"Hey boy, didn't you hear me call you? If you don't get up that
hill I'll beat the daylights outta you!"
Trembling, George Lee slowly made his way back up the hill.
"What happen to Essie Mae here? What happen?" Daddy demanded.
"Uh . . . uh . . . she fell offa d' porch 'n hit her head on d'step
. . ." George Lee mumbled.
"Where were you when she fell?"
"Uhm . . . ah was puttin' a diaper on Adline."
"If anything else happen to one o' these chaps, I'm goin' to try my
best to kill you. Get yo'self on home fo' I . . ."
The next morning George Lee didn't show up. Mama and Daddy waited
for him a long time.
"I wonder where in the hell could that damn boy be," Daddy said
once or twice, pacing the floor. It was well past daylight when
they decided to go on to the field and leave Adline and me at home
alone.
"I'm gonna leave y'all here by yo'self, Essie Mae," said Mama. "If
Adline wake up crying, give her the bottle. I'll come back and see
about y'all and see if George Lee's here."
She left some beans on the table and told me to eat them when I was
hungry. As soon as she and
Daddy slammed the back door I was hungry. I went in the kitchen and
got the beans. Then I climbed in to the rocking chair and began to
eat them. I was some scared. Mama had never left us at home alone
before. I hoped George Lee would come even though I knew he would
beat me.
All of a sudden George Lee walked in the front door. He stood there
for a while grinning and looking at me, without saying a word. I
could tell what he had on his mind and the beans began to shake in
my hands.
"Put them beans in that kitchen," he said, slapping me hard on the
face.
"I'm hungry," I cried with a mouth full of beans.
He slapped me against the head again and took the beans and carried
them into the kitchen. When he came back he had the kitchen matches
in his hand.
"I'm goin' to burn you two cryin' fools up. Then I won't have to
come here and keep yo' asses every day."
As I looked at that stupid George Lee standing in the kitchen door
with that funny grin on his face, I thought that he might really
burn us up. He walked over to the wall near the fireplace and began
setting fire to the bulging wallpaper. I started crying. I was so
scared I was peeing all down my legs. George Lee laughed at me for
peeing and put the fire out with his bare hands before it burned
very much. Then he carried me and Adline on to the porch and left
us there. He went out in the yard to crack nuts and play.
We were on the porch only a short time when I heard a lot of
hollering coming from toward the field. The hollering and crying
got louder and louder. I could hear Mama's voice over all the rest.
It seemed like all the people in the field were running to our
house. I ran to the edge of the porch to watch them top the hill.
Daddy was leading the running crowd and Mama was right behind
him.
"Lord have mercy, my children is in that house!" Mama was
screaming. "Hurry, Diddly!" she cried to Daddy. I turned around and
saw big clouds of smoke booming out of the front door and shooting
out of cracks everywhere. "There, Essie Mae is on the porch," Mama
said. "Hurry, Diddly! Get Adline outta that house!" I looked back
at Adline. I couldn't hardly see her for the smoke.
George Lee was standing in the yard like he didn't know what to do.
As Mama them got closer, he ran into the house. My first thought
was that he would be burned up. I'd often hoped he would get
killed, but I guess I didn't really want him to die after all. I
ran inside after him but he came running out again, knocking me
down as he passed and leaving me lying face down in the burning
room. I jumped up quic...
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编辑推荐
Blunt, powerful, and angry, Coming of Age in Mississippi dares
the reader to find anything poetic in the lives of black people
living in rural Mississippi in the 1940s and 50s, "where they knew,
as I knew, the price you pay daily for being black." Anne Moody
begins with her childhood - houses papered with newspaper, children
left alone because parents have to work, her own after-school
housecleaning jobs that begin at the age of nine so she can help
her family eat. Smart and athletic, she earns scholarships through
college, but her thoughts are increasingly consumed by the racism
that surrounds her. She is one of the original protestors at the
Woolworth's counter in Jackson; after college she helps lead a
voter registration drive in rural Canton, Mississippi, "where
Negroes frequently turned up dead." She describes finding her own
name on a Klan "wanted" list, seeing a boy beaten as FBI agents
watch from across the street, hearing of murders - Emmet Till,
Medgar Evars, John F. Kennedy, her own uncle. She lives her life
knowing she can no longer return safely to her hometown and feeling
estranged from family members who do not share her passionate
commitment to fight racism. She is easy on no one, not even Martin
Luther King, whose nonviolent stance she eventually questions. Anne
Moody's book, written when she was twenty-eight, is both proof of
her convictions and a forthright testament to the sacrifices,
terror, and courage that made up the U.S. Civil Rights Movement of
the 1960s. -- For great reviews of books for girls, check out Let's
Hear It for the Girls: 375 Great Books for Readers 2-14. -- From
500 Great Books by Women; review by Erica Bauermeister
书籍介绍
Moody's famous autobiography is a classic work on growing up poor and Black in the rural South. Her searing account of life before the Civil Rights Movement is as moving as The Color Purple and as important as And Let Us Now Praise Famous Men. "A history of our time . . . (and) a reminder that we cannot now relax".--Senator Edward Kennedy.
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