Loving Vs. Virginia: A
Documentary Novel of the Landmark Civil Rights Case (Advanced Copy)
By Patricia Hruby Powell; illustrated by Shadra Strickland
Publisher: Chronicle Books, 2017
Reviewed by Arica L. Coleman, Ph.D.
Not Recommended
Opening
Patricia Hruby Powell has written a young adult documentary novel to commemorate the 50th anniversary of this landmark Supreme Court
decision in which the nine justices unanimously
overturned anti-miscegenation laws (state proscriptions against interracial
marriage) declaring such laws unconstitutional.
I learned of Powell’s book a couple of months prior to its
release while conducting a Google search. I reached out to the author in a comment on her blog which featured the book's cover, stating "I cannot wait to read your book. Here is a link to my work on the Lovings. There are additional links to other articles and my book!" Powell responded, stating, "you know I've read your chapter," meaning the chapter on Loving in my book That the Blood Stay Pure and she graciously
sent me an advanced copy stating in an email:
“I look forward
to your reading my book as well. And how I addressed the issue of Sydney Jeter.”
The book received excellent advanced reviews on Goodreads
and has since been highly recommended by School Library Journal, Kirkus
Reviews, and many other reputable experts of young adult literature. My review, however, will focus on the book’s merit as a
historical text. While the conceptualization and execution of the work is
noteworthy, its title claim as a documentary novel, I believe, is oversold, given Powell's penchant to ignore historical facts and her inability to place the work within its proper context of interracial marriage in the U.S. The
essay is structured using the hackneyed phrase “the good, the bad, and the
ugly.” First. . .
The Good
Powell’s documentary novel is an attractive oversized book
with the author’s first person poetic prose set in large easy-to-read print.
Much of the book has been typeset with the traditional black letters attractively
spaced on white pages. Yet, interspersed throughout the book are black and
white photos, and black pages with white lettering to emphasize major
historical events that add to the beauty of this work. The illustrations of
renowned picture book artist Shadra
Strickland adds value to
this aesthetically pleasing product.
The book is well
organized with a focus on the years 1955-1968. Those familiar with southern
culture can easily imagine themselves at a gathering on the Loving’s front
porch in rural Central Point, Virginia listening to the victorious plaintiffs take
turns recounting the pains and triumphs against racialized state imposed marriage
sanctions. The book’s structure is reminiscent of James McBride’s classic work The Color of
Water.[1]
 |
| Screen captures of the narrative structure |
In Loving Vs. Virginia, the narrative fluctuates beginning with Mildred, then Richard,
then Mildred again.
This pattern repeats, until the confluence of their
narratives joins at the point of their marriage in Washington D.C., where it is spread out over
several pages and then resumes the earlier pattern for the remainder of the
book.
Powell’s splendid writing style shines through in this work. The prose is
lyrical with a flow and pace that makes the reader glide from one page to the
next.
The Bad
First, the salient problem with Powell’s book is that she characterizes
the work as a “documentary novel.” In her blog post, "Documentary Novel vs Historical Fiction," writer Susan
Santiago describes three definitions for "documentary novel." She also writes that Loving Vs. Virginia is only the second book she's seen that claims to be a documentary novel. Hence Powell's book would
have benefited from an author’s note with a clear definition of the term and
how her work fits within that definition.
Second, assuming that Santiago’s first definition of the term, "True event + real people told in a narrative format" is the one Powell would use, there is very little primary material in Powell’s book which directly
relates to the Loving case. While the majority of the photos and quotes are
related to the issue of segregation and the Civil Rights Movement, the author
does not adequately connect the dots to demonstrate how such events as Brown v. the Board of Education, King’s "I Have a Dream" speech, the signing of the Voting Rights Act or the Freedom
Rides directly relate to the issue of miscegenation, Virginia, or the Loving
case. In other words, her fictionalized narrative has little to no direct
connection to the documentary “evidence” much of which reflects her own
interpretations of historical events.
Third, and this relates to the issue of documentation and
its lack of specificity, Powell provides a 1958 map of the United States with the
states with anti-miscegenation laws colored in gray; however, the states are not
labeled; although she acknowledges that one of the Virginia counties closed its
public schools for five years rather than integrate, she does not identity the
location as Prince Edward County.
The Ugly
Powell’s choice to tell this story in the first person
narrative is a cautionary tale. The salient problem with this point of view is
that the author’s biases and assumptions are imposed on the speakers. This problem
occurs very early in the first chapter which is Mildred’s biographical
narrative. There, the reader learns about her family life. Mildred identified
an older sibling by noting his etched name in her school desk. “There’s J.J.,”
who she assumes is “my much older half-brother James Jeter." She identified three
additional half-brothers later in the chapter and explained (p. 24), “What makes them half-brothers
is their mama. Daisy. She died. And then Daddy married our mama.”[3]
It is indeed
understandable that Powell wanted to get across the fact that the Jeters were a
blended family, but she imposed a eurocentric definition of family on southern
people of color who do not quantify familial relations. In addition, Powell
imposed a family history on the Jeters based on assumption, but an assumption that is inaccurate (p. 18):
Our Jeter ancestors have lived here
in Central Point
for centuries,
hunting and fishing.
Daddy and Mama
are both part Indian.
We are also descended
from African slaves.
And their owners.
While the Jeters ancestral roots are Indian,
European, and African, there is no evidence that the Jeters were descended from
slaves. In fact, Mildred’s father, Theoliver Jeter was descended from a line of
white and free women of color (African, Indian or both) that stretch back at
least to the 1760s.
Moreover, Powell’s causal mention of the Jeter’s Indian
ancestry on several occasions throughout the text at once acknowledges and
erases Mildred’s Indian identity as the aforementioned example demonstrates. Another example is her characterization of Central Point as a tri-racial
harmonious community as demonstrated by the statement (p. 28): “If I stop and watch I
see . . . Indians, Negroes, Whites—all mixed together. . .Whites and
coloreds—we go to different schools . . . churches, drink out of different
water fountains. But our section is different.”
Powell relies on outdated information which constructed
Central Point as a colorblind society, a narrative begun by famed African
American journalist Simeon Booker in his feature article on the Lovings not
long after their Supreme Court win.[4]
Yet, as my work demonstrates, new information highlighting inter and
intra-racial tensions in the small rural community of Central Point, tensions
which persist to this day, called for a reevaluation of Booker’s earlier
conclusions. Again as demonstrated here and here,
Central Point was a microcosm of the lived experience of racial politics in
Virginia, the South, and indeed the nation.
What is most unfortunate is that Powell does not provide
Mildred adequate voice to explore her self-identity as an Indian woman. Case in
point, when Mildred and Richard arrive in the District of Columbia to obtain a
marriage license, Powell's depiction of their conversation is as follows. On the left is Mildred; on the right is Richard (p. 117):
This exchange is reminiscent of a dialogue between James
McBride and his mother when he discovered that she was not, as he had long
suspected, the light skinned black woman she had always claimed to be, but was
in fact an Ashkenazi Jew who spoke fluent Yiddish.
Powell’s scenario does not work and in fact seemed
rather bizarre. I mean, what an awkward time to have a conversation or--as it
seemed here--a debate about your future wife’s racial identity. Mildred’s race
never mattered to Richard before. Why make it an issue now? Her racial self-identity was indeed full of
complexity and intrigue. For example, in her 1963 letter to the ACLU Mildred
stated,
“I am writing to you concerning a problem we have . . . My husband is
white and I am part negro, part indian.”
On page 176, instead of providing her readers with the letter [5] which features Mildred’s own words in her own handwriting... [Update on January 3, 2018: In response to a reader's request, I have inserted the text of the letter. Scroll to the bottom of the page to see it.]
... Powell chose to highlight a quote from King’s Letter
from A Birmingham Jail. In doing that, Powell did something that many white writers do when they imagine real people as characters: she erased the very people to whom she claims to give voice. That Powell would use Mildred’s Indian heritage
as mere honorable mentions rather than provide space for this woman of color to
use her own words to explore a central aspect of her self-identity is most
unfortunate.[6]
The Uglier
Now to discuss Sidney Jeter. As demonstrated in my work on
the Lovings (see endnote 6 and here), Mildred was
already a mother when she and Richard began dating. Sidney was born in January
1957 which places his time of conception in April 1956. According to Powell’s
time line, Richard and Mildred’s courtship began in November 1955. Five months
later in an entry dated May 1956 Mildred stated (p. 72):
“Didn’t see Richard for
awhile. I missed him. But he’s coming steady again.”
By September, Mildred,
who was at least five months pregnant, was in a quandary over how to break the
news to Richard which she does a month later after they attended a dance
together. Keep in mind that by this time a very slim Mildred is at least six
months pregnant. They are seated in his
car when (p. 94), “I tell him,” she says. "I tell him everything."
The problem is, the reader does not have a clue what Powell
meant by “everything.” Was the pregnancy the result of a rape? Of a one night
indiscretion? The reader is left to wonder.
I find Powell’s handling
of Sidney Jeter’s paternity unconscionable. If she felt that this aspect of the story was
too controversial for a teen audience, she should have left it alone. Since she
chose to include it, then she should have simply told the truth rather than perform
a slight of hand by attempting to adhere to a courtship timeline which has been
adequately disproven. Unfortunately she
creates complication where truth and simplicity would have been sufficient.
Even more unacceptable is Powell’s explanation for Richard’s
resuming his relationship with Mildred whom she characterized as an innocent
child in need of protection. Speaking
about leaving Mildred in the dark about their impending confrontation with the
county Sheriff who was sure to arrest them when he learned of the couple’s
marriage, Richard stated (p. 131), “I knew she was pretty innocent. Innocence what got
her Sidney—sweet Sydney. Hell, I love her innocence.” Hmmm, riddle me this—What
in the hell is Powell talking about?
And more egregious still was Powell’s use of the N-word when
speaking for the Sheriff who was present when the couple arrived for their
hearing at the courthouse stating (p. 151): “There’s the white trash and his nigger.” Yet, earlier in the novel when
the couple was pulled over by the Sheriff who, after admonishing Richard about
speeding, stated (p. 102), “Now you take that little negress home where she belongs.” Why the change in language? The
use of the N-word was/is unnecessary and offensive. The argument that the use
of the word is necessary for historical accuracy does not hold water in this
case as it was not a direct quote, but was deliberately placed there without
regard for its detriment particularly to young readers of color.
Equally offensive is Powell's dialogue on Mildred's passing, in which she states (p. 81):
I'm not real dark--'bout the color of a grocery sack--and I have good hair, but I surely couldn't pass." Or the statement by a passerby who, when seeing Mildred and Richard arm-in-arm, says (p. 81) "Nice piece o'colored ass." It is clear that Powell gave no thought to the feelings of young girls of color when she chose to include these statements in her novel.*
The Conclusion of the Matter
I attempted to review this book several times since
receiving it in late 2016, but my frustration with the text caused me to set it
aside with the hope that when I resumed the effort, I would feel better about
the work. I think I wrestled with this
book these many months because deep down I wanted to like it. I recognize the tremendous time and effort
Powell put into this work for which she is to be commended. Notwithstanding, good writing cannot
substitute for accuracy in historical context and facts; and the pitfalls of
the first person narrative are too glaring to ignore. Its subtitle as a “documentary
novel” places a claimed authoritative validity on the work that requires a standard
of execution that is higher than if it were categorized as historical fiction. Being
bound by both professional and personal ethics requires that I provide an
honest assessment. While I applaud the concept of the work, the
lack of focus, historical inaccuracies, and the imposition of the author’s
personal biases have derailed what could have been an excellent book.
[1] James McBride, The Color of Water: A
Black Man’s Tribute to His Wife Mother (Riverhead Trade), 1997.
[2] What appears at the beginning of Powell’s book is the first page of a pamphlet
issued by the Virginia State Registrar’s Office about the new Act to Preserve
Racial Integrity. Text of the actual law appears on subsequent pages; documents
relating directly to issues surrounding the Loving case are easily accessible
via The Eugenics Archives
in addition to other online sources.
[3] There
is a gross imbalance between Mildred’s narrative in chapter one and Richard’s
narrative in chapter two. The reader is provided extensive information about
the Jeters, but nothing about the Lovings. In fact, it is Mildred, not Richard
who introduces the reader to her in-laws. Where is the research on the original
Mr. and Mrs. Loving?
[5] Mildred's mention of the Attorney General appears to be an afterthought. There is no evidence of correspondence between Mrs. Loving and Bobby Kennedy.
[6] For more on Mildred Loving’s racial identity see Arica L. Coleman, “ Beyond
Black and White: Afro-Indian Identity in the Case of Loving V. Virginia,” in That the Blood Stay Pure: African Americans,
Native Americans, and the Predicament of Race and Identity in Virginia
(Indiana University Press, 2013), 151-176; and “Mildred Loving: The
Extraordinary Life of An Ordinary Woman” in Virginia
Women Their Lives and Times, Vol. 2 (University of Georgia Press, 2016),
313-319, for further discussion on the first-person-viewpoint see, https://americanindiansinchildrensliterature.blogspot.com/2015/09/deborah-wiles-debbie-reese-and-choosing.html.
*This paragraph added on Jan 2, 2017.
Update, January 3, 2017
Here is the text of Jeter's letter:
1151 Neal St.
N.E. Wash. D.C.
June 20, 1968
Dear sir:
I am writing to you concerning a problem we have.
Five yrs. ago my husband and I were married here in the District. We then returned to Va. to live. My husband is White, I am part negro, + part indian.
At the time we did not know there was a law in Va. against mixed marriages.
Therefore we were jailed and tried in a little town of Bowling Green.
We were to leave the state to make our home.
The problem is we are not allowed to visit our families. The judge said if we enter the state within the next 30 yrs., that we will have to send 1 yr. in jail.
We know we can't live there, but we would like to go back once and awhile to visit our families + friends.
We have 3 children and cannot afford an attorney.
We wrote to The Attorney General, he suggested that we get in touch with you for advice.
Please help us if you can. Hope to hear from you real soon.
Yours truly,
Mr. + Mrs. Richard Loving
Update, Jan 10, 2018
See
Debbie Reese's review of Powell's book.
