“I thought fairy tales were supposed to have happy endings. What was the moral of this story?” (p. 87)

 

“Figures moved on the deck. Fetterlings. Hundreds of them. And with them came that familiar feeling of suffocating terror. The weight of years, decades, centuries of hate and violence… The stench of death and dying, of rot and decay… Uncle C was in that thing. Which meant that ship was – ‘The Maafa,’ I whispered” (p. 402)

 

 

While adults may be excited for Amazon Prime’s adaptation of Gaiman’s Anansi Boys, here is Anansi’s fast-paced fantasy representation for youth. I will champion this book for the rest of my life for the way in which it brings together allusions to slavery, with African myths and heroes, in a modern fantasy setting. For a grade 7-8 audience, it is such a rich text that explores history, imagination, trauma and healing, and so much more.

 

What is so powerful about Mbalia’s narrative is the symbolism behind each antagonist. We have fetterlings, the Maafa, and Uncle C. 

 

Fetterlings are these black iron chains that are alive, and repeatedly attack our heroes. An adult will likely be able to remove the L and think about being chained or imprisoned. Within the context of the other terms and topics here, the fetterlings evoke images of slavery.

 

The Maafa, in the novel, is this ship that houses anger and evil. At first I thought it was some spiritual idea, but towards the end it was confirmed that it was actually a concrete presence. If there was a reason for my confusion, it may be because Mbalia’s Maafa is the corporealization of the African-American history of oppression. Outside of the world of the text, the term “Maafa,” coined in the 1980’s, refers to the slave trade. 

 

If there is any of these three terms a student may understand independently, it is Uncle C. Our main villain tells Tristan to call him Uncle C, and the C is later revealed to stand for cotton. American young readers will definitely make the connection to the production of cotton by African-American slaves, but this may require more explicit background teaching for other students. 

 

Of course, there are other allusions and references, too, as there are some gods and heroes that join Tristan’s battle against Uncle C. For the most part, these other characters are largely defined for the reader. For example, John Henry is explicitly explained: “in the stories, he took slaves’ spirits on trips of happiness and joy and wonder, all the while their bodies remained on the plantation and continued to work” (338). John Henry refers to the hero John the Conqueror (fun fact: Zora Neale Hurston wrote about him in her story High John de Conquer).

 

If there is one contention with the narrative, it could be the conflation between slavery and oppression as trauma, with Tristan’s loss of his best friend Eddie (who dies in a bus crash). What incites the whole journey is Eddie’s journal, which had recorded in it West African mythology. And, beyond his performance at competitive boxing, the internal conflict that Tristan is really working through is Eddie’s death: “there’s a point when I get so worked up I can’t tell my emotions apart. Am I angry or sad or scared? Is it everything at once, or none of the above?” (391). Arguably it is insensitive to compare the entirety of the history of slavery and oppression to a bus crash, but these two topics are connected together:

“The open secret of the Maafa had been bothering me throughout my time here, and it had taken something High John said to make me understand. You shouldn’t try to hide from your pain. You shouldn’t run from it, cover it up, pretend it never happened. That’s what John Henry and Nyame and all the other gods had tried to do with the Maafa. That’s what I’d tried to do with Eddie. Uncle C thought he’d hurt me by taking all my good memories of my best friend, but he’d only it helped me face my feelings” (p. 426).

That said, if we forgive the parallel as a feature of middle-grade fiction (i.e. to help a younger audience relate to a larger societal topic), Mbalia’s point to talk about our history and reflect on injustices is a valid point. It also serves to connect Tristan’s role as a story weaver, an Anansesem, with this broader narrative: “as Anansesem, it was my job to carry the stories of the land to its people. All the stories. If we ignored the past, how would we learn from it?” (426). And I think, in our current climate of reconciliation, Tristan’s reflection echoes across communities and cultures.

 

This is not an academic point, but it would be a disservice to talk about Tristan Strong without addressing the humour. In particular, Tristan’s sidekick Gum Baby has the best lines. Yes, she is a hero that fights with him (interestingly, a number of sidekicks are female), but her primary role in the narrative is to provide the comedic relief to balance the intense references to slavery and oppression. It is best if you come across her lines in the context of the book, but just to give you a sense of her sass and attitude, here are some of my favourites.

-       “He tutted. ‘Nasty stuff. She could have been smooshed.’

“Gum Baby gasped. ‘Gum Baby could’ve been Gum Gravy?” (p. 116)

-       “Gum Baby don’t get lost, boy. She just decides ot go somewhere different sometimes” (p. 131)

-       “Bring it on!.. Ain’t nobody scared! Get your education for free, you thistle-heads, Gum Baby’s an equal-opportunity destroyer!” (409)

Admittedly, that last one might go over the heads of a twelve-year old, but I think the others would generate a laugh or two aloud.