12 anni schiavo

Di Solomon Northup

Da questa storia vera il film di Steve McQueen vincitore di 3 premi Oscar, del Golden Globe &copy e premiato al festival di Toronto

La straordinaria storia vera di Solomon Northup

Da questo libro il film pluripremiato di Steve McQueen

Solomon Northup, un uomo nato libero, fu rapito a Washington nel 1841, e fatto schiavo per dodici, interminabili anni.
In queste memorie, pubblicate per la prima volta nel 1853, troviamo tutta la sua storia: mentre si trovava a Washington con due sconosciuti che gli avevano proposto un ingaggio come violinista, venne assalito nel cuore della notte, drogato, legato e trascinato al mercato degli schiavi. Lì fu subito minacciato: se avesse rivelato di essere nato libero, sarebbe stato ucciso. Iniziarono così dodici anni di schiavitù, di violenze, brutalità e sofferenze senza fine. Solomon capì che gli schiavi valevano meno del bestiame: potevano essere picchiati, costretti a lavori massacranti, potevano morire nella completa indifferenza. Lui stesso venne assalito con un’ascia, minacciato di morte, fu costretto a uccidere per salvarsi. Poté vivere sulla sua pelle una delle pagine più nere della storia d’America, la piaga nascosta dietro la splendente vetrina del Paese che cresceva e abbatteva ogni confine. Poi, al culmine della disperazione, Northup incontrò un bianco completamente diverso dagli altri. A lui Solomon affidò una lettera indirizzata a sua moglie e da quel momento tutto cambiò.

Da questa storia vera il film di Steve McQueen premiato al festival di Toronto, vincitore di tre premi Oscar e del Golden Globe

«Messo a confronto con 12 anni schiavo, Via col Vento sembra insignificante.»
Variety

«Potente.»
The New York Times

«Magistrale, strepitoso, rimarrà nella leggenda.»
The Huffington Post

«Commovente.»
The Telegraph

«Magnifico.»
Entertainment Weekly

«Sbalorditivo.»
Wall Street Journal

«Duro, viscerale, incalzante, necessario.»
The Guardian


Solomon Northup
Afroamericano, nacque libero all’inizio dell’Ottocento a Saratoga Springs, nello Stato di New York. Venne rapito nella città di Washington e venduto come schiavo. Cambiò diversi padroni e lavorò nelle piantagioni in Louisiana per 12 anni prima della sua liberazione. Il racconto autobiografico di quella drammatica esperienza è convogliato nel libro 12 anni schiavo, pubblicato nel 1853, diventato uno dei capisaldi della letteratura americana.

• Lingua: Italiano
• Editore: Newton Compton Editori
• Data di uscita: 16 dic 2013
• ISBN: 9788854163379

Solomon Northup

Solomon Northup was a renowned fiddle player who was kidnapped and enslaved for twelve years before he was rescued by an official agent from the state of New York.

Anteprima del libro

Capitolo 1

Introduzione – Gli avi – La famiglia Northup – Nascita e discendenza – Mintus Northup – Il matrimonio con Anne Hampton – Buoni propositi – Il canale Champlain – In Canada a bordo di una zattera – La fattoria – Il violino – In cucina – Il trasferimento a Saratoga – Parker e Perry – Schiavi e schiavitù – I figli – L’inizio dell’ordalia.

Poiché la mia è la storia di un uomo nato in libertà, che poté godere dei benefici di tale condizione per trent’anni in uno Stato libero e che fu poi rapito e venduto come schiavo e tale rimase fino al felice salvataggio avvenuto nel mese di gennaio del 1853, dopo dodici anni di cattività, mi è stato suggerito che queste mie vicissitudini potrebbero rivelarsi molto interessanti per il grande pubblico.

Sin da quando ho riacquistato la libertà, non ho mancato di notare come negli Stati del Nord sia sempre più diffusa l’attenzione per l’argomento della schiavitù. Circolano più numerose che mai opere di finzione che dichiarano di raffigurarla tanto nei suoi aspetti più benevoli quanto in quelli più ripugnanti e che, ho notato, sono assai spesso motivo di commenti e discussioni.

Io posso parlare della schiavitù solo per come l’ho osservata, conosciuta e personalmente sperimentata. È mio intento fornire una testimonianza sincera e genuina: voglio narrare la storia della mia vita, senza esagerazioni, lasciando ad altri il compito di stabilire se nelle pagine dei romanzi vengano raccontati soprusi più crudeli o venga dipinta una prigionia più severa.

Da quel che sono riuscito ad appurare, i miei avi dal lato paterno della famiglia erano schiavi nel Rhode Island. Appartenevano alla famiglia Northup, un membro della quale, trasferitosi nello Stato di New York, si stabilì a Hoosic, nella contea di Rensselaer, portando con sé Mintus Northup, mio padre. Alla morte di questo gentiluomo, che occorse all’incirca cinquant’anni fa, mio padre divenne libero, emancipato secondo le ultime volontà del suo padrone.

L’egregio signore Henry B. Northup di Sandy Hill, illustre avvocato al quale, grazie alla Divina Provvidenza, devo la mia attuale libertà e il ricongiungimento con mia moglie e i miei figli, è imparentato con quella famiglia presso la quale i miei progenitori prestarono servizio e dalla quale presero il cognome che io stesso porto. Si deve forse a questo la sua indefessa premura nei miei riguardi.

Una volta diventato un uomo libero, mio padre si trasferì nella cittadina di Minerva, nella contea di Essex dello Stato di New York, dove nacqui nel mese di luglio del 1808. Non ho modo di appurare con esattezza quanto a lungo vi rimase. Da lì si spostò poi a Granville, nella contea di Washington, nei pressi di una località nota come Slyborough, dove lavorò per qualche anno nella fattoria di Clark Northup, un altro parente del suo vecchio padrone; quindi si trasferì alla fattoria Alden, su Moss Street, poco a nord del villaggio di Sandy Hill; e poi alla fattoria ora proprietà di Russel Pratt, sulla strada che da Fort Edward conduce ad Argyle, dove rimase fino alla morte, che ebbe luogo il 22 novembre 1829. Lasciò una vedova e due figli: me e Joseph, mio fratello maggiore. Quest’ultimo vive ancora nella contea di Oswego, vicino all’omonima città; mia madre morì mentre io ero in schiavitù.

Seppur nato schiavo, e avendo patito le disgrazie cui la mia razza sfortunata è soggetta, mio padre era un uomo rispettato per la sua laboriosità e la sua onestà, come sarebbero pronti a testimoniare tutti coloro che ne serbano il ricordo. Trascorse la vita occupandosi di agricoltura, senza mai cercare impiego in quei settori più umili che paiono riservati a noi figli dell’Africa. Oltre ad averci fornito un’istruzione superiore a quella solitamente concessa ai bambini della nostra posizione sociale, acquisì con diligenza e parsimonia un titolo di proprietà, sufficiente a concedergli il diritto di voto. Aveva l’abitudine di raccontarci dei primi anni della sua vita, e pur ricordando sempre con bonarietà e persino con affetto la famiglia presso la quale aveva prestato servizio, non poteva per questo accettare il sistema della schiavitù e si soffermava con dolore sulle condizioni di degrado in cui versava la gente della sua razza. Si sforzò di infondere in noi alti valori morali e ci insegnò ad avere fede e fiducia in Colui che ama allo stesso modo le Sue creature, quelle più umili come quelle più nobili. Assai spesso mi sono tornati alla memoria questi paterni consigli, mentre giacevo in un capanno per schiavi nelle lontane e torride regioni della Louisiana, dolente per le ingiuste ferite inflittemi da un padrone disumano, e desideravo solo raggiungere il mio genitore nella tomba, affinché quella stessa lapide mi proteggesse dalla sferza del mio oppressore. Nel camposanto della chiesa di Sandy Hill, un’umile pietra tombale segna il luogo dove riposa mio padre, dopo aver degnamente compiuto i doveri destinati alle basse sfere del creato alle quali Dio l’aveva designato.

Agli inizi mi occupai principalmente dei lavori della fattoria insieme a mio padre. Le ore di libertà che mi erano concesse le trascorrevo di solito sui libri, o esercitandomi con il violino, uno svago che fu la principale passione della mia gioventù. È stato poi anche fonte di consolazione, poiché dava gioia alle semplici creature con le quali condivisi l’amaro destino e mi distoglieva per molte ore dalla triste contemplazione della mia esistenza.

Nel giorno di Natale del 1829 sposai Anne Hampton, una giovane donna di colore che all’epoca abitava vicino casa nostra. Il matrimonio fu celebrato a Fort Edward dall’egregio signore Timothy Eddy, un giudice di quella città, della quale è tuttora cittadino emerito. Anne aveva a lungo vissuto a Sandy Hill, presso il signor Baird, proprietario della Eagle Tavern, e anche presso la famiglia del reverendo Alexander Proudfit, di Salem. Questo gentiluomo fu per molti anni il presidente della locale società presbiteriana ed era assai rispettato per la sua cultura e l’animo caritatevole. Anne ancora rammenta con gratitudine l’immensa gentilezza e gli ottimi consigli di quel buon uomo. Non è in grado di stabilire con esattezza la propria discendenza, ma nelle sue vene scorre, mescolato, il sangue di tre razze. È difficile stabilire quale, tra la rossa, la bianca e la nera, sia predominante. La loro unione, tuttavia, le ha donato un aspetto singolare ma assai piacevole, che ha ben pochi riscontri. Seppur in qualche modo simile, non può propriamente esser definita mulatta, categoria alla quale, ho dimenticato di dire, apparteneva mia madre.

Ai tempi del matrimonio avevo appena raggiunto la maggiore età, avendo compiuto i ventun anni nel luglio dell’anno precedente. Privo dei consigli e del supporto di mio padre, con una moglie che faceva affidamento su di me per il proprio sostentamento, decisi di entrare nel mondo del lavoro; malgrado l’ostacolo rappresentato dal colore della pelle e consapevole della mia bassa posizione sociale, mi concessi il sogno di un futuro migliore, quando come ricompensa per le mie fatiche fossi riuscito ad acquistare un’abitazione, seppur umile, e qualche acro di terra, che mi donassero agio e felicità.

Da quel giorno fino a oggi l’amore che nutro per mia moglie è sempre stato sincero e profondo; e solo chi conosce il tenero affetto che un padre prova per la sua prole può comprendere i miei sentimenti per gli adorabili bambini cui abbiamo donato la vita. Ritengo opportuno e necessario dire certe cose affinché chi legge queste pagine possa comprendere la profondità delle sofferenze che sono stato poi condannato a patire.

Subito dopo il matrimonio cominciammo a lavorare come domestici nel vecchio edificio giallo che all’epoca sorgeva al confine meridionale del villaggio di Fort Edward e che è stato poi trasformato in una residenza moderna e di recente occupato dal capitano Lathrop. Dopo l’istituzione della Contea, talvolta questo palazzo, noto come Fort House, viene usato quale sede per il tribunale, durante i processi. Fu anche occupato da Burgoyne nel 1777, poiché si trovava vicino al vecchio forte, sull’argine sinistro dell’Hudson.

Durante l’inverno trovai lavoro insieme ad altri nell’opera di ristrutturazione del vecchio canale Champlain, lungo la sezione che aveva William Van Nortwick come sovrintendente. Gli uomini insieme ai quali lavoravo erano sotto il diretto comando di David McEachron. Quando in primavera riaprimmo il canale, con i soldi della paga che avevo messo da parte riuscii a comprare due cavalli e vari strumenti necessari all’industria della navigazione.

Ingaggiati alcuni marinai d’esperienza, cominciai a occuparmi del trasporto di grosse zattere cariche di tronchi dal lago Champlain fino a Troy. In molti di questi viaggi fui accompagnato da Dyer Beckwith e da un certo signor Bartemy, di Whitehall. Nel corso della stagione sviluppai una perfetta conoscenza dei segreti e dell’arte della navigazione fluviale, talento, questo, che mi avrebbe poi permesso di rendere proficui servigi a un buon padrone e di stupire le semplici menti dei taglialegna sulle rive del Bayou Bœuf.

Durante una delle traversate sul lago Champlain, fui convinto a fare una gita in Canada. Trovato alloggio a Montreal, visitai la cattedrale e altri luoghi di interesse e proseguii poi verso Kingston e altre città, familiarizzando così con la geografia locale, cosa che mi sarebbe tornata assai utile in futuro, come si vedrà verso la fine di questa storia.

Dopo aver onorato quei contratti con soddisfazione mia e del mio datore di lavoro, e poiché non desideravo starmene con le mani in mano ora che il canale era di nuovo chiuso al traffico, firmai un altro contratto con Medad Gunn, per il quale avrei dovuto tagliare una grande quantità di legna. Questo impiego mi tenne occupato per tutto l’inverno 1831-1832.

Al ritorno della primavera, io e Anne cominciammo a pianificare l’acquisto di una fattoria nei paraggi. Negli anni di gioventù mi ero impratichito nei mestieri dell’agricoltura, un’occupazione congeniale ai miei gusti. Stipulai quindi un accordo per una parte della vecchia fattoria Alden, dove un tempo aveva vissuto mio padre. Con una mucca, una scrofa e un buon tiro di buoi che avevo di recente comprato da Lewis Brown, a Hartford, e con altri effetti e beni personali, ci trasferimmo nella nostra nuova casa di Kingsbury. Quell’anno seminai a grano venticinque acri di terra, preparai i campi per la coltivazione dell’avena e investii tutto ciò che avevo al fine di avviare un’attività agricola quanto più estesa possibile. Anne si occupava con diligenza delle faccende domestiche, mentre io lavoravo sodo nei campi.

Restammo alla fattoria fino al 1834. Nella stagione invernale venivo spesso invitato a suonare il violino. Ovunque i giovani si riunissero per danzare, c’ero quasi sempre anch’io. Il mio archetto era famoso nei villaggi del circondario. Anche Anne, durante la lunga residenza alla Eagle Tavern, era diventata piuttosto famosa come cuoca. Nelle settimane in cui Fort House ospitava il tribunale, e in occasione di eventi pubblici, veniva impiegata dietro lauto compenso nelle cucine della Sherrill’s Coffee House.

Una volta terminate queste occupazioni, tornavamo sempre a casa con un bel gruzzoletto, tanto che tra violino, cucina e agricoltura ci ritrovammo ben presto nell’agiatezza e conducevamo in effetti una vita prospera e felice. Sarebbe stato assai meglio se fossimo rimasti nella fattoria di Kingsbury; ma giunse il momento in cui fui costretto a muovere il passo successivo, un passo che mi avrebbe portato verso un destino crudele.

Nel marzo del 1834 ci trasferimmo a Saratoga Springs. Occupavamo un’abitazione che apparteneva a Daniel O’Brien, sul lato settentrionale di Washington Street. All’epoca Isaac Taylor gestiva una grossa pensione, nota come Washington Hall, all’estremità settentrionale di Broadway. Mi assunse come cocchiere, incarico che conservai per due anni. Dopo questo periodo trovai impiego insieme ad Anne presso lo United States Hotel e in altre pensioni del posto durante la stagione turistica. D’inverno mi affidavo al mio violino, anche se all’epoca della costruzione della ferrovia fra Troy e Saratoga trascorsi diverse giornate di duro lavoro alla posa dei binari.

A Saratoga presi l’abitudine di comprare i beni di prima necessità per la mia famiglia nelle botteghe dei signori Cephas Parker e William Perry, due gentiluomini nei confronti dei quali, grazie a molti gesti di grande cortesia, sviluppai un forte rispetto. Fu per questo motivo che, dodici anni più tardi, feci consegnare a loro la lettera che è acclusa anche in questo volume e tramite la quale, nelle mani del signor Northup, si arrivò alla mia fortunosa liberazione.

Quando vivevo allo United States Hotel mi capitava sovente di incontrare schiavi che accompagnavano i loro padroni dal Sud. Erano sempre ben vestiti e nutriti, conducevano una vita in apparenza agiata, turbati da ben pochi dei problemi che di solito ci affliggono. Diverse volte mi ritrovai a conversare con loro sull’argomento della schiavitù e quasi sempre scoprii che nutrivano un segreto desiderio di libertà. Alcuni di loro espressero l’ardente desiderio di fuggire e mi chiesero consiglio sui modi migliori per riuscirvi. Tuttavia, la paura della punizione che sapevano per certo li avrebbe attesi una volta catturati si rivelava ogni volta sufficiente a trattenerli dall’impresa. Poiché avevo sempre respirato l’aria libera del Nord, e dal momento che nutrivo sentimenti e affetti uguali a quelli che albergano nel cuore dell’uomo bianco ed ero inoltre dotato di un’intelligenza pari a quella di alcuni uomini quanto meno di carnagione più chiara della mia, ero troppo distante dalle loro realtà, troppo indipendente forse, per capire come ci si potesse accontentare di vivere nelle abiette condizioni di uno schiavo. Non mi capacitavo di come certe leggi, e anche alcune dottrine religiose, potessero riconoscere o legittimare il principio della schiavitù; e mai una volta, questo posso dirlo con orgoglio, a chiunque mi si rivolgesse mancai di suggerire di cogliere l’occasione giusta e tentare la fuga verso la libertà.

Rimasi a Saratoga fino alla primavera del 1841. Le rosee ambizioni che sette anni prima ci avevano sedotto e spinto ad abbandonare la tranquilla fattoria sulla sponda orientale dell’Hudson non si erano ancora concretizzate. Sebbene vivessimo sempre in condizioni agiate, non ci eravamo arricchiti. La società e i rapporti personali in quella stazione termale famosa in tutto il mondo non promuovevano certo i semplici valori di laboriosità e parsimonia ai quali ero abituato, ma tendevano al contrario a sostituirli con altri, più propensi all’inattività e allo sperpero.

All’epoca eravamo genitori di tre figli, Elizabeth, Margaret e Alonzo. Elizabeth, la maggiore, aveva dieci anni, Margaret era di due anni più giovane, mentre il piccolo Alonzo ne aveva appena compiuti cinque. Riempivano di gioia la nostra casa. Le loro giovani voci erano musica per le nostre orecchie. Quanti castelli in aria costruimmo per quelle piccole creature innocenti. Quando non ero al lavoro, passeggiavo sempre insieme a loro, vestiti con gli abiti migliori, per le strade e i parchi di Saratoga. Stare con loro era la mia più grande gioia; e me li stringevo al petto con lo stesso calore e la stessa tenerezza che mi avrebbero suscitato se la loro pelle scura fosse state bianca come la neve.

Finora la storia della mia vita non presenta alcunché di insolito: ci sono soltanto le normali speranze, gli affetti e le fatiche di uno sconosciuto uomo di colore che segue la propria strada nel mondo. Ma ero ormai arrivato a un punto di svolta della mia esistenza, ero giunto sulla soglia di una sventura indescrivibile, del dolore e della disperazione. Mi trovavo all’ombra di quella nuvola nella cui fitta oscurità sarei presto svanito, per rimanere nascosto agli sguardi di tutti i miei cari, privo della dolce luce della libertà, per tanti, troppi anni.

Capitolo 2

I due sconosciuti – La compagnia circense – Partenza da Saratoga – Ventriloquismo e prestidigitazione – Viaggio a New York – I documenti – Brown e Hamilton – La corsa verso il circo – Arrivo a Washington – Funerali di Harrison – L’improvvisa malattia – Il tormento della sete – La luce si spegne – Privo di sensi – Catene e oscurità.

Un mattino, sul finire di marzo del 1841, non avendo all’epoca particolari impegni che mi tenessero occupato, passeggiavo per il villaggio di Saratoga Springs, chiedendomi dove potessi trovare un impiego temporaneo in attesa della stagione lavorativa. Anne, come di consueto, era andata a Sandy Hill, a circa venti miglia di distanza, per occuparsi delle cucine della caffetteria di Sherrill durante le sedute del tribunale. Elizabeth, se ben ricordo, era con lei. Margaret e Alonzo stavano con la zia a Saratoga.

All’angolo fra Congress Street e Broadway, nei pressi della taverna che era allora e, da quel che ne so, è tuttora gestita dal signor Moon, mi vennero incontro due gentiluomini dall’aspetto rispettabile, che non avevo mai incontrato prima. Credo che a parlargli di me fosse stato qualcuno di mia conoscenza, dicendo loro che ero un abile suonatore di violino, ma per quanto mi sia sforzato non rammento chi fosse.

A ogni buon conto, i due guidarono subito la conversazione sull’argomento della musica, rivolgendomi numerose domande riguardo le mie capacità. Pienamente soddisfatti dalle risposte, proposero di avvalersi dei miei servizi per un breve periodo, dichiarando che ero proprio la persona necessaria alla loro attività. Si chiamavano, come mi avrebbero in seguito rivelato, Merrill Brown e Abram Hamilton, anche se ho validi motivi per dubitare che questi fossero i loro veri nomi. Il primo pareva avere circa quarant’anni di età, era piuttosto basso e tarchiato, con lineamenti che indicavano intelligenza e astuzia. Indossava una redingote nera e un cappello dello stesso colore e disse che risiedevano a Rochester, o a Syracuse. L’altro era un giovane di carnagione chiara e occhi azzurri e, credo, non doveva avere più di venticinque anni; indossava un soprabito color tabacco, un lustro cappello nero e un panciotto dagli eleganti ricami. Tutto nel suo aspetto era assai alla moda. Appariva per certi versi effeminato, ma gradevole, e aveva le maniere disinvolte dell’uomo di mondo. Mi dissero che erano legati a una compagnia circense, all’epoca nella città di Washington, e che erano in viaggio per raggiungerla, dopo essersene separati brevemente per un’escursione a nord allo scopo di visitare la regione, pagandosi le spese con esibizioni occasionali. Aggiunsero anche che avevano incontrato grandi difficoltà nel procurarsi un degno accompagnamento musicale per i loro spettacoli e che se avessi viaggiato con loro fino a New York mi avrebbero dato un dollaro al giorno, più tre dollari per ogni sera in cui avessi suonato per loro, oltre a coprire le mie spese per il ritorno a Saratoga.

Accettai subito l’allettante offerta, sia per la ricompensa promessa sia per il desiderio di visitare la metropoli. Avevano fretta di partire. Convinto che la mia assenza sarebbe stata di breve durata, non ritenni necessario scrivere ad Anne dove mi sarei recato, immaginando in effetti che il mio ritorno potesse addirittura coincidere con il suo. Così, preso un cambio di biancheria e il mio violino, ero pronto a partire. Arrivò la carrozza: era coperta, tirata da una coppia di fieri cavalli bai, e il tutto aveva una grande aria di eleganza. I loro bagagli, consistenti di tre grossi bauli, erano legati alla rastrelliera, e, una volta salito a cassetta mentre gli altri due prendevano posto sul retro, mi allontanai da Saratoga sulla strada per Albany, estasiato per questa nuova occasione e felice come mai mi ero sentito in vita mia.

Passammo per Ballston e, presa la strada costiera, la seguimmo fino ad Albany. Arrivammo in città prima del buio e alloggiammo in un albergo a sud del museo.

Quella sera ebbi modo di assistere a una delle loro esibizioni, l’unica nell’intero arco di tempo che trascorsi in loro compagnia. Hamilton era fermo sulla porta; io costituivo l’orchestra, mentre Brown si occupava dello spettacolo. Questi eseguì un numero da giocoliere, lanciando delle palle in aria, poi danzò su una fune, preparò delle frittelle in un cappello, produsse le strilla di maiali invisibili ed eseguì altri trucchi di ventriloquismo e prestidigitazione. Il pubblico era assai poco numeroso e di livello tutt’altro che scelto, e quando Hamilton ci riferì degli incassi parlò di «borse vuote e morti di fame».

Alle prime ore del mattino seguente ci rimettemmo in viaggio. Il grosso della loro conversazione riguardava ora la necessità di arrivare al circo in fretta e senza altri indugi. Proseguirono di corsa, senza più fermarsi per fare spettacoli, e a tempo debito arrivammo a New York, dove prendemmo alloggio in una pensione nella zona occidentale della città, in una strada che andava da Broadway fino al fiume. Immaginai che il mio viaggio fosse terminato e mi aspettavo di tornare a Saratoga da amici e famiglia entro uno, massimo due giorni. Brown e Hamilton, tuttavia, cominciarono a chiedermi con insistenza di proseguire con loro fino a Washington. Dissero che, con l’inizio della stagione estiva ormai imminente, il circo sarebbe partito per il Nord subito dopo il loro arrivo. Mi promisero lauti compensi se li avessi accompagnati. Si dilungarono molto sui vantaggi che ne sarebbero conseguiti per me, e la realtà che mi prospettarono era così lusinghiera che alla fine decisi di accettare.

Dal momento che stavamo per entrare in uno Stato schiavista, il mattino seguente mi suggerirono di procurarmi dei documenti che attestassero la mia posizione di uomo libero prima di lasciare New York. L’idea mi parve molto assennata, ma di sicuro non mi sarebbe venuta in mente se non fossero stati loro a parlarne. Ci recammo subito presso quella che appresi essere la dogana. Lì dichiarai sotto giuramento che ero un uomo libero. Venne redatto un attestato e ci fu consegnato con l’ordine di portarlo all’ufficio del registro della Contea. Obbedimmo e, dopo che l’impiegato ebbe aggiunto qualcosa al documento, per il prezzo di sei scellini, tornammo alla dogana. Fu necessario sbrigare alcune formalità per il completamento della procedura, quindi, dopo aver corrisposto due dollari all’ufficiale, misi in tasca l’attestato e mi avviai coi due amici verso il nostro albergo. Devo confessare che all’epoca pensai che quei documenti di certo non valevano il prezzo pagato per ottenerli, non avendo mai conosciuto la minima apprensione per l’incolumità della mia persona. L’impiegato del registro, ricordo, prese un appunto in un grande libro che, presumo, è ancora in quell’ufficio. Sono sicuro che un controllo delle annotazioni inserite negli ultimi giorni di marzo o nei primi di aprile del 1841 potrà soddisfare gli scettici, quanto meno riguardo a questa particolare transazione.

Riguardo ai miei due compagni di viaggio, instaurai con loro un rapporto di grande confidenza e giunsi a fidarmi di loro in maniera quasi totale. Il modo in cui parlavano e si comportavano con me, l’accorto consiglio circa l’attestato e innumerevoli altri, piccoli gesti che non è necessario ripetere, tutto indicava che fossero dei veri amici, sinceramente preoccupati per il mio benessere. Non so bene se lo fossero davvero. Non so se si macchiarono della grande infamia della quale ora li ritengo colpevoli. Chi legge queste pagine avrà, come me, l’opportunità di stabilire se ebbero un ruolo nelle mie disgrazie, se come mostri scaltri e disumani travestiti da uomini mi attirarono volutamente lontano dalla mia casa, dalla mia famiglia e dalla libertà in nome del denaro. Se furono davvero innocenti, allora la mia improvvisa sparizione è davvero inspiegabile; ma ripensando a tutte le circostanze di quegli eventi, proprio non riesco a concedere loro un così caritatevole beneficio del dubbio.

Dopo avermi dato il denaro, del quale parevano muniti in abbondanza, mi suggerirono di non aggirarmi per le strade di sera, dal momento che non avevo familiarità con le usanze della città. Promisi di tener da conto quei consigli, mi separai da loro e subito un servitore di colore mi accompagnò in una stanza sul retro dell’albergo, al pianterreno. Mi stesi a letto, pensando alla mia casa, a mia moglie e ai miei figli e alla lunga distanza che ci separava, finché non mi addormentai. Ma nessun angelo misericordioso venne al mio capezzale per dirmi di fuggire, nessuna voce pietosa mi avvisò in

Recensioni su 12 anni schiavo

[jerseygirl21-977813 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

I read the book because I wanted to see the movie but after reading the book I don't think I could handle the movie. The subject of Slavery just upsets me so much! As far as this book Mr Northup did a great job in relating his experience.

[justindtapp · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

I enjoy reading books, especially autobiographies, from the 1800s--this one published in 1853 and was a bestseller at the time. The movie made from this book is nominated for several Oscars. It bothers me that we're so ignorant of our history that we have to "rediscover" books from just 150 years ago. This book is available for free since it's way past copyright, but you can buy an updated annotated version by some professors who researched the history. The version I listened to was read by Louis Gossett, Jr. which made it great. Solomon Northrup's story was supposedly used as the historical basis for Harriet Beecher Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin.

*spoilers below*

Northrup was born a free black man and lived in New York where he owned property and made a good living for himself and his family. One day, some travelers offer to pay him for his services in playing the violin and convince him to travel to New York City, where he obtains legal proof of his freedom, and onward to Washington, D.C. where Northrup is kidnapped and cruelly sold into slavery, within sight of the Capitol; the irony of this is lost on no one.

He is transported to New Orleans and recounts the sad tales of other slaves along his journey. For example, one woman was the slave mistress of a master who seemingly had loved her and promised to free her. When she thought that day had arrived, she was instead delivered to an auction with her children, and she is to be resold in New Orleans. She is desperate to keep her children with her and her new purchaser offers to buy her daughter, but her owner will not sell her because she is beautiful and will fetch a large sum from men for her use when she's older.

Northrup is able to sneak a letter off of his slave transport, which reaches his family in New York (he later learned) but they are unable to do anything without more information on his whereabouts. This is the last letter he is able to send for the next 12 years as it was forbidden for slaves to get access to pen and paper, and illegal for a post office to mail a letter from a slave without his master's consent. It's a crime to kidnap and sell a free man, so his story could get many in trouble (and cause later masters to lose possession of him) for which he fears his own life. Northrup is given the name of Platt and lives by that name for 12 years, keeping his real story secret. This also hinders any chance of recovery by his family.

He is purchased by a "good, Christian man" and Northrup remarks at the way slavery is seen by Christians in the North as anathema but in the South they see no problem with it; his first master actually is kind to his slaves and reads Scripture to them on Sundays-- Northrup enjoys working for him and endeavors to please him. Reading and thinking recently about the theology of work, the way a man can take pride in his own work no matter the situation is very instructive for me. Northrup observes that the better slaves are treated, the harder and more earnestly they work; but always, they long for freedom. They know there are places where there is no slavery and it's a heavenly dream to them.

When the kind master falls on hard financial times, Northrup is mortgaged and then sold to a notoriously harsh carpenter who twice tries to kill him-- and Northrup responds by beating the man almost to death the first time, running away back to his original master the next. Northrup was able to escape only because he had learned to swim in the North, whereas it was forbidden for slaves to learn to swim in the South. He serves another master (Epps) for ten years, and Epps, like most masters, treat their slaves cruelly.

He encounters everything from Indians to Cajuns to runaway slaves in Louisiana and engages in various occupations on a few plantations, being repeatedly resold or leased out. He develops a reputation everywhere he goes of being remarkable-- both for his beating of previous taskmaster, and to his intelligent work. He recounts the daily fears of working the plantation during cotton season; whippings in the fields for small mistakes, whippings at the gin for bringing in too much or too little cotton, the fear of being late, or of going hungry. He details the processes of cotton, corn, and sugar harvesting and processing. He recounts the fate of slave escapes and rebellions-- always ending badly. If you've seen Roots or really any PBS documentary discussing slave life, nothing in this book will shock you. There are a couple of grotesque scenes that vividly portray the depravity of men given license to do as they wish with other men-- one act which Northrup rightly describes as "demonic." What you glean from it is the perspective of a man who was always aware of what freedom was-- like a prisoner unjustly imprisoned with little hope of release.

Some new details that stood out to me about slave life are that slaves were usually given 3-6 days off at Christmas, but worked the other 360 days. At Christmas, plantation owners would host a large feast for the slaves, and the slaves would have a lively dancing party that was looked forward to the whole year. They were also traditionally given a pass to go where they pleased for those days, and most slaves took time to visit loved ones on other plantations. Any work done in the Christmas season (and on Sundays year round) had to be compensated by law-- and that's how slaves were able to afford food and other necessities not provided. Solomon goes 12 years without sleeping on a bed, just floors with a blanket used for horses. Most slaveowning households had a tense relationship between the wife and the slaveowner's slave mistress. This plays out on several occasions in the book.

In Why Nations Fail (my review), Acemoğlu and Robinson point out that the South lagged behind the North in terms of patents filed during the slave plantation period--there was little innovation. This is evident in that Solomon modifies tools and practices based on simple things he had seen in the North and these are huge innovations on the plantations that his masters praise him for. Unfortunately, it makes him too valuable to sell to the one abolitionist he encounters-- a man named Bass.

Bass is a Canadian journeyman carpenter who finds work on the plantations. At one point he lectures Northrup's master on the equality of the races and how ungodly slavery is. Overhearing this, Northrup confides in Bass and Bass devotes his life to helping emancipate him, primarily by mailing letters to Northrup's acquaintances in the North. The Governor of New York is enlisted (by law) to begin the process of retrieving Northrup, and eventually an emissary is sent to find Northrup. It was providential that the emissary is directed to Bass just before he sets out on a long journey, and they are then able to find Northrup's plantation. Northrup's master and other authorities fight the extradition, but Northrup is freed and quickly returns to Washington, D.C. where his kidnapper is prosecuted-- and the case is dismissed for lack of evidence and due to witnesses who contradict Northrup. Northrup hopes his book's publication is some vindication, I believe.

At last, Northrup returns home. Truly remarkable providence that he encountered Bass and that things worked themselves out as they did. Northrup ends the book by remarking that doubtless hundreds of other free men are enslaved in the South. One marvels that it would be another decade and hundreds of thousands of American lives lost before the institution would be ended.

This is a 5 star book.

[cdiemert-1 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

This unforgettable memoir was the basis for the Academy Award-winning film 12 Years a Slave. This is the true story of Solomon Northup, who was born and raised as a freeman in New York. He lived the American dream, with a house and a loving family - a wife and two kids. Then one day he was drugged, kidnapped, and sold into slavery in the deep south. These are the true accounts of his twelve hard years as a slave - many believe this memoir is even more graphic and disturbing than the film. His extraordinary journey proves the resiliency of hope and the human spirit despite the most grueling and formidable of circumstances.

[terribooks · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

I expected a book written 160 years ago to have a much more dated style, but this one sounds surprisingly contemporary. The voice of the author, narrating his own experience, is real and natural, opening up a perspective to a horrible part of our history. It is fascinating and believable.

[melydia_1 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

A free black man in New York is kidnapped and sold into slavery in Louisiana, where he remains for a dozen years before he is rescued. It pulls no punches when describing the horrors of slavery, but what really struck me is how hard Northup worked to see the best in everyone. He does put a little more detail into the act of farming cotton and the description of stocks than I found strictly necessary, but his purpose was to educate his contemporaries about the realities of slavery, setting the record straight. He goes to great pains to give evidence that his story is true, and while he does speak about the wrongness of slavery as an institution, he is reasonable rather than preachy. Fascinating story.

[greeniezona · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

I was way ahead on reading Battle Cry of Freedom for my Civil War reading group, so I decided to take a break and read something related. I'd been meaning to read this since seeing the heart-breaking movie, and as I'd found a nice copy at my favorite used bookstore last year, this seemed an obvious choice.I thought the movie did a fairly good job of keeping faithful to the book, so most of the horrors of this story were already familiar. So what impressed me most in this reading were Northup's remarkable insights into the people around him -- both the slaves who have known such treatment their entire lives, but also the slave owners. Some of his observations of the very real cost to their humanity by the brutalities they have inflicted and/or witnessed as members of the slave-holding class struck me. Northup wasn't just a man thrust into extraordinary circumstances -- he was clearly himself extraordinary, as a writer and observer, to be able to produce such an account.

[sweetiegherkin · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

Solomon Northup, a free man all his life, was kidnapped and sold into slavery, being transported to the deep South of Louisiana's rural bayous. He recounts his twelve years of forced servitude, 10 years of which were under the cruel master Edwin Epps, and his eventual rescue.I confess I had never heard of Northup, his plight, or his book until the recent movie was released. I had no interest in viewing the movie as I felt it would be too intense - both with the violence and the emotion. However, when the book came up as a choice for my book club, I was happy to vote for it and am glad to have done so now that I've read it. While there is certainly detestable violence and other situations that evoke strong emotions, the book allowed some distance that I feel a movie would not. Northup writes his account in a manner I found very effective. Although he had every reason to be outraged by his lot in life, he managed to write in a very reasoned tone and factual way. He lays out the account with a great deal of circumspect, making sure to describe only those things he was absolutely certain of and to make note of when he was simply making a supposition. He generally asked - sometimes directly - the reader to make his or her own opinions based on what he was reporting. Northup also makes great allowances for many of the slave owners of his acquaintance, noting how the culture they grew up in allowed them to be otherwise good people who were blinded to how the institution of slavery was an inhumane system. He elegantly says: "It is not the fault of the slaveholder ... so much as it is the fault of the system under which he lives. He cannot withstand the influence of habit and associations that surround him. Taught from earliest childhood, by all that he sees and hears ... he will not be apt to change his opinions in maturer years. There may be humane masters, as there certainly are inhuman ones - there may be slaves well-clothed, well-fed, and happy, as there surely are those half-clad, half-starved and miserable; nevertheless, the institution that tolerates such wrong and inhumanity as I have witnessed, is a cruel, unjust, and barbarous one."This kind of forgiveness shows just how kind and educated a person Northup was and makes it all the more potent when he describes someone like Epps as savage and brutal; we know that Solomon is not choosing his words lightly when he defines his master as such.As an outsider to the institution of slavery until he was forced into it and as a Northerner by birth, Northup spends some time describing various things about his life in Louisiana, including the climate, the planting and picking of cotton, etc. Given that this was written long before the days of Google, let alone easy travel, it is perfectly logically that he should describe such minutiae to people who would be unfamiliar with it. Some modern readers may find this level of detail off-putting, but I appreciated that he took the time to describe everything so that it gave a very clear picture. The book also contains appendices including legal documents regarding how Solomon was eventually rescued from slavery through a legislative act of New York State.All in all, this was a very interesting read about a sad and dark chapter of one man's life - and one country's history. I'd very much recommend this book to anyone interested in U.S. history in general or African-American history.

[lamour_1 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

Born a freeman in New York State in 1808, married with three children, Soloman was offered a short term job in Washington, DC to play his violin at a circus. However, he was drugged and shipped to Louisiana as a slave. For 12 years he worked on several plantations on the Red River recording names, places and conditions in his head all the while trying to find some way to communicate his whereabouts to his family and friends in New York.Eventually a Canadian working as a handyman in the area who had shown strong views about the injustice of slavery mailed a letter home for him which resulted in the Governor of New York sending an agent to Louisiana to free him.I had thought that this would be a difficult read because it was written in the 1850`s but I was pleasantly surprised to find Solomon was an excellent writer and his narrative flowed along quickly. As with any book that describes slavery or injustice to fellow humans such as the Holocaust, one wonders at man`s ability to mistreat his fellow human beings. In the case of slavery in the southern USA, it is how white religious men & woman justified it with the Bible that always rankles me.

[beckyhaase · Valutazione: 3 su 5 stelle]

12 YEARS A SLAVE by Solomon NorthupI never thought I would say this but …. Go see the movie. The story is important but the book is ponderous. The writing is old fashioned enough to make it difficult for the modern reader. I was glad I read this on my e-reader so I could easily look up all the many “archaic” words. The punctuation also forces the reader to slow down and re-read portions to understand what is being said in this autobiography.The book relates the experiences of a free black man who is kidnapped by slavers in Washington, DC and taken to Louisiana where he is sold into slavery. It takes 12 long years for him to be found, released from bondage and returned to wife and children. He suffers under both cruel and mild masters as he shares life with other bound persons. Northup also relates the stories of other persons he suffers with. You will feel Patsey’s pain as she is whipped into submission and suffer with Elisa as her small children are wrenched from her and sold away never to be seen again.This biography needs to be told. Perhaps another writer will make the story come alive for the modern reader.3 of 5 stars

[zumbanista · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

A Must ReadHow was it I never heard of this book before the movie's circulation? I read it in preparation for the movie, which I still have yet to see. 12 Years A Slave is a heartbreaking memoir of a free black man kidnapped and sold into slavery in Louisiana. And yet I found it an uplifting and inspirational story. The conditions and behaviors are naturally horrifying, but the book is well written and quite balanced in outlook. The fact it is non-fiction and all events are verifiable amazed me. A very moving historical testament.

[tina1969_1 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

Solomon Northup was born a free man in New York State. At the age of 33 he was kidnapped in Washington D.C. and placed in an underground slave pen. Northup was transported by ship to New Orleans where he was sold into slavery. He spent the next 12 years working as a carpenter, driver, and cotton picker. This narrative reveals how Northup survived the harsh conditions of slavery, including smallpox, lashings, and an attempted hanging. Solomon Northup was among a select few who were freed from slavery.My Thoughts:The description of the book really tells the reader what to expect with this true account of the authors experiences. The story is really harrowing and it is awful what human beings can do to each other.I wouldn’t say that the book is an enjoyable one because of its content and at times it was awful. I especially found the floggings terrible and worse of all was what happened to Patsey. After that event I found that I couldn’t stand anymore so I was skipping towards the end just to see how the author did find his freedom again.A very harrowing tale but at times very compelling but I wouldn’t say it was a nice read. I am glad that I did read this book albeit it hard at times to read the content.

[stuart_taylor-1 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

The name Solomon Northup meant nothing to me until I saw the film, Twelve Years a Slave.

I don’t usually read a written work after seeing a film adaptation, but in this harrowing instance I made an exception.

Why? Two reasons really. One, because having witnessed a director’s eye view of the story, I wanted to hear the voice of the man who had been kidnapped a free man and sold as a chattel into bondage. Two, Slavery is an age-old human outrage which is as much a vile horror in today’s world as it was during Solomon Northup’s day and across the world for millennia before that.

Solomon’s account shines as the work of an educated and talented man, whose downfall begins when he trusts the wrong people. Believing he could supplement the household income - during the temporary absence of his family – by accepting a two week job, playing the violin; he is lured by two villains to Washington, where he is drugged. Regaining consciousness he finds himself manacled hand and foot in a dark cellar, and stripped of clothes and possessions.
On protesting his status as a free man, Northup suffers a near fatal beating by two strangers, and learns that the men he trusted with the promise of work had tricked him and sold him into slavery.

On leaving the confines of the cellar to be transported, with a small group of unfortunates, to the Southern cotton plantations, the author glimpses the distant outline of the White House, a sad irony not lost to him.

I didn’t enjoy this book. It was far more detailed than the film, which I also didn’t enjoy. I felt both had an essential message however, and both gave testament that there are no depths below which the human animal will stoop when dealing with his fellow man.

[toobusyreading · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

A free black man is forced into slavery, and stays a slave for twelve years. How can anyone survive what too many of the slaves endured?This remarkable memoir is highly readable and no one with even the least little heart could fail to be touched deeply by it.The language is the language of the time, and helps transport the reader to the world of Mr. Northup. The book is relatively short, but what a wallop it packs in those pages. It is never boring and immensely informative.While painting a very ugly picture, this book is not a diatribe. The author recognizes that although the institution of slavery is abominable, there were masters who treated their slaves well, if holding people against their will, owning them, can ever be considered good treatment. This particular Kindle edition does have some mistakes in it. I most frequently noticed that words were split in two, but there were also some incorrect words and a few formatting problems. However, and despite the mistakes, the editing is not awful, and the content of the story more than makes up for any editing issues.

[ursula_2 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

Solomon Northup was a free black man living in New York state during the slave era. Married with a family, he is looking for extra work when he encounters a couple of men who say they've heard he plays a mean fiddle (he does), and wonder if he'd like to earn some money. He would, so he accompanies them to Washington DC without even letting his wife know, since she's also out of town at the moment. The evening they arrive he seems to be drugged by someone, whether that's the men he was traveling with or someone else, he's not sure. He awakens chained to the floor, and ultimately ends up being transported to Louisiana and sold as a slave. Solomon learns quickly that mentioning his status as a free man is not going to gain him anything but beatings, so he keeps his head down, watching and waiting for an opportunity to make contact with home and someone who can help him. From the title, we know it's not going to happen too soon.The events in the book are no worse than any other account of slavery, but I suppose some may find them more poignant by virtue of being told from the point of view of someone who started out as a free American. I found Solomon's predicament interesting, but I was always mindful that his experience was similar to that of many others who didn't have the ability to read and write to tell their stories, and who didn't have anyone to appeal to for their freedom. But he did what he could at the time, which is to get the hell out of slave states, and to tell the tale. Northup tells of both good and bad masters, not vilifying all white men in the south for their participation in slavery, but instead evaluating them as individuals. Considering the circumstances under which he got to know these men, it's remarkable that he was able to be so even-handed.The writing was simple and conversational, and the audio version (read by Lou Gossett, Jr.) was the perfect format to add immediacy to the experience.

[adriansamuels-1 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

I saw the film first, which rather colours ones view somewhat. But both are great in different ways.I still cannot get over the fact that this intense barbarity went on only 150 years ago.

[creighley_1 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

Solomon Northup, a free black living in the free state of New York, was kidnapped and sold into slavery where he barely survived brutal and inhuman treatment at he hands go his "owner." The horrific conditions of the slaves and their oppression are aptly told with clarity and without exaggeration.

[glorybe1 · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

A heartbreaking account of Soloman Nothup's kidnapping. How he was taken from his family, being a free man and forced into bondage for 12 years. The worse for it being a true story! How heartless owners whipped and used him to within an inch of his life, just because he was a black man!A brilliant read, written in language that is evocative of the times. The book on which the film of the same name was based

[michigantrumpet_1 · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

Published in 1853, this is the true life account of Solomon Northup, free man of Saratoga NY, properly educated as a child, married with three children and one time owner of a ferry service on the Hudson River. Through deceit and trickery, he was enticed to Washington DC with a job offer, drugged, kidnapped, and sold into slavery. He was shipped to a slave market in New Orleans where he was sold to William Ford. His time with the kindly Ford was short lived. Due to financial troubles, Ford was forced to sell Northup to the violent and volatile Edwin Epps. Northup toiled for almost 11 years in backwoods Louisiana before being rescued and restored to his family. Upon his return to freedom, Northup brought charges against the perpetrators. The case in NY was dropped due to issues over jurisdiction. The case in DC resulted in an acquittal because Northup, a black man, was not allowed to testify there. Northup's book was an instant success, selling 30,000 copies. Unlike other slavery accounts of the day, it was written from the perspective and experiences of a free man who finds himself so horribly betrayed and enslaved. His writing was not polemical. (He actually had kind words to say about his first master.) Accordingly, his writing was given greater weight as a true account, written without an agenda. Sympathy for his plight spurred abolitionists and won the approbation of Harriet Beecher Stowe, who stated it magnified and informed her Uncle Tom’s Cabin. In the last days of the Civil War, Union soldiers remarkably searched out Edwin Epps, who agreed Northup’s account was factual. Northup spoke movingly and well about his experiences and was sought on the speechmaking circuit. Before being lost to history, documentary evidence also indicates he actively assisted slaves to freedom on the Underground Railroad. How does this account hold up for modern eyes? Northup’s story is written with all of the verbal flourishes of mid 19th century literature. You will not want to read Twelve Years A Slave for the quality of the prose but rather for the powerful impact of his experiences. I was particularly moved by his palpable love of his wife and children. There is a searing account of one woman’s agony and grief upon being separated from her children at the slave market. Most heartrending is the fate of Patsy, forever caught between the unwanted libidinous interest of her master and the punishments of her spiteful jealous mistress. Historically important both in Northup’s time and ours, this unique perspective on a now incomprehensible way of life is highly recommended.

[philjackson-1 · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

I'd never heard of this book until promotion for the film, which I've not seen, began and inspired me to seek it out. I got it on my Kindle.I don't think I'd read anything on American slavery before but I'd imagined I knew pretty much what went on.However two things came very strongly out of this book for me and which I'd not really thought about before. The first was the grinding relentless reality of slavery, the day after day, month after month, year after year existence, the unceasing toil, unceasing cruelty, the total lack of respect for age or sex or family; above all, what all of this does to someone. The book gives vivid, ofthen harrowing depictions of all of this. And there are moments of vicious brutality which are not at all easy to read.The second, which Northup touched on in several places, was the utterly warped thinking which slavery engendered, as a necessity, in not just the slave owners but in a slave owning society. I think I can understand now why after abolition it took over a century and five generations to get out from under that thinking; I'd never really understood that before.

[maggieandersonwriter · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

In a time when anything considered controversial is censured, Solomon Northup tells his story with honesty and humility. He takes the reader on his journey from being a free black man in the 1800s in America to becoming a beaten, starved and exploited slave, sold from one Master to another like cattle. His poignant real-life account of the appalling conditions he and his fellow slaves had to endure is heart-wrenching, and opens the reader’s eyes to the disgraceful acts of brutality inflicted on a human being by another.This man was an upstanding member of his community, who had been well educated and was also an accomplished violin player. He was a family man with a wife and three children, and took every measure possible to give them a decent and comfortable life.Unfortunately, in March of 1841, he was lured away from his home in Saratoga Springs by a pair of unscrupulous slave traders offering him money to join them on their journey to play his violin. He was drugged and divested of any documentation pertaining to him being free and thrown into a dark cellar, tied up like an animal, to await sale.What ensued was twelve years of torture that did not break his spirit. He resolved to continue with the hope that one day he would be liberated and once again return to his much-loved wife and children. That liberation came on January 1853.Northup’s story is one that must be read.

[beamis12 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

Written in 1853 this is a true story of a free black man, basically kidnapped and sold into slavery. My first impression of this book was how wonderfully well it is written. My second was to note how dispassionately this story was told, as if the author had to emotionally distance himself in order to tell his story. So hard to read some of these events, but he also tells of good owners as well as those that were horrible.Have read that when this book was first published it caused barely a stir and quickly disappeared. Also recently read that one of the first printed copies of this book recently sold for 3500.00. Worthy read, just wish I knew what happened to the author in his later years.

[pinkcrayon99 · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

“If they don't know as much as their masters, whose fault is it? They are not allowed to know anything. You have books and papers, and can go where you please, and gather intelligence in a thousand ways. But your slaves have no privileges. You'd whip one of them if caught reading a book. They are held in bondage, generation after generation, deprived of mental improvement, and who can expect them to possess much knowledge?”Reading about slavery from Northup's perspective was quite insightful because he was born free. It felt like he was soaking in every detail from the landscape to the nature and personalities of the other slaves so that he tell this story. Being without pen and paper during his 12 years of slavery did not hinder Northup's memory. I appreciated the details even though most were painful to read. "Truly, Patsey was a splendid animal, and were it not that bondage had enshrouded her intellect in utter and everlasting darkness, would have been chief among ten thousand of her people."After viewing the movie based on this book, I could not wait to read Northup's actual narrative about Patsey played by the actress Lupita Nyong'o. Patsey was known by her master as Queen of the Field because she could pick 500lbs of cotton a day. She was a tortured soul and only 23 years old {per Northup's documentation}. It makes my heart glad that this slave who was treated so brutally and only praised for her labor is now known of by people all over the world. Epps nor the mistress could not stop the power of the written word. Patsey you made it. Slavery did not keep you bound. That evil institution did not keep your story from us. Northup gave you your freedom by writing your story. You are more than the Queen of the Field you are the Queen of our Hearts. I will never forget you. Another remarkable woman of this narrative was the slave, Celeste. Her cunningness was inspiring. She evaded the dogs. They refused to follow her tracks. Knowing something about the area that Northup writes from, Avoyelles Parish, Louisiana, I can only speculate that Celeste may have dabbled in "roots." She ran away and stayed in the woods for months. When the terror from the beasts of the swamps overwhelmed her she returned to her master. He fastened her neck in stocks and sent her back to the fields. Celeste your spirit of courage and determination was not lost. Other women put it on such as Ida B. Wells and Fannie Lou Hamer. The stocks did not bind your spirit you found us. Personally, I think the only thing Solomon Northup had to get him through those twelve years was his music. Had he not gotten to play and travel to play I believe slavery would have stolen him from his family and us forever.

[mcelhra · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

Because of the Academy Award nominated movie based on this book, I think most everyone is acquainted with the story of 12 Years a Slave. It’s the memoir written by Solomon Northup, a free black man who lived in New York state with his wife and three children. He was kidnapped and sold into slavery in 1841 and was a slave for twelve years before he was rescued.As one can imagine, Solomon’s time as a slave was utterly horrible. Because of the media coverage of the movie, I expected the worst in terms of what Solomon and the other slaves went through and the truth of it was even worse than I could have ever imagined. Not every scene is intense and graphic – I don’t want to discourage anyone from reading this book. It’s an important book and should be read by everyone. There are some scenes that are to read though, I won’t lie about that.I was surprised by how accessible the language Solomon used was. I’ve read other books from the 19th century that were really hard to follow and understand (Dickens, anyone?) This book was very beautifully and descriptively written but I still was always able to follow what was happening. I bought this version of the book because I anticipated struggling with it but I would have been just fine with the regular book.I haven’t seen the movie yet so I can’t draw any comparisons between the two but I still highly recommend this book to everyone.

[tea58 · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

There is no question that Solomon Northup is a hero of American History. This Slave narrative, 12 YEARS A SLAVE, by SOLOMON NORTHUP, is unforgettable. I think the story is not only amazing but also miraculous. When I met Solomon Northup, he was a slave. Solomon Northup is born a free man. He lives in Upstate New York. He has a wife named Anne and three children. He is a hard working man and a honest man. Until one day his whole life changes. It is difficult to believe there are indeed rascals and scoundrels on the earth and in the vicinity where you live especially when you've been taught all the bad men or evil masters are down South. On this particular day, Mr. Northup befriends two men. Two men who will take him South and sell him to a Southern planter. Solomon Northup had no idea of their ugly plans. For twelve years Solomon Northup does not mention he is a free man. He works harder than a dog. He is beaten. He is treated like he was born into slavery. I could not see how his life could ever change, how he could regroup from such a trial and test. I can't imagine losing my whole family in one day. Never hearing whether they are dead or alive for twelve long years. This man, now not a man but an animal, to his slave holders, continues to struggle through each day. I think he had quite a bit of faith. He never praises himself in the narrative. He does finally call himself upright. How does he look upon slavery? He calls it a "peculiar institution." Other than that he will not judge this way of life in any way. He will leave it to other men and women. Along with Solomon Northup, I met the other slaves around him. I had the chance to read about them. One woman still lives in my head. She had two children. She begged, screamed, begged, "please don't sell my children from me." Those who know about American slavery can guess what happened to her and her children. I could hear her voice in my head because it was my voice. If any man would have taken my children from me to an unknown place, I would have died. I would not have had the fortitude to live on. But how many men and women did live through those days without hope of seeing or hearing their children again? Only an inhumane person could do such a thing to another person. This woman's story is a testament to the horrors of slavery. It made me think about my values in life. I now believe more fully nothing is impossible in life. Perhaps this is why people say the truth is stranger than fiction. Number two is that I must always keep putting one foot in front of the other foot as I journey through the adventures, unwanted adventures, of my life. I must also remember my scars from life whether emotional or physical in no way touch what the slave ancestors lived each and every day of their short lives. Strange, one man's narrative has the power two and a half centuries later to give hope to people of another generation. His voice speaks from the grave. He still lives because his story lives. His last wish was to lie in the church graveyard and finally go home to the Lord. Little did he know how much his life would mean to future old and young people. It is a disservice if these slave narratives are not read in our schools and discussed with relevance.I have been moved by other slave narratives: for example Frederick Douglass's narrative and The Incidents in a Slave Girl's Life. Truly, I think this one, 12 YEARS A SLAVE, is my favorite. Why? Simply because he already had that most precious gift, freedom. He had experienced it. Not just wished for it. He had it. It was stolen from him. How in the world must he have felt? And that is what made me want to read this narrative. I named two lesson from the narrative by Solomon Northup. There are more than any two I named. As I remember Northup, I will not forget Epps, his wife or the other slaves who worked around him. The slaves had no idea he was a free man until the day Henry Northup came to pick him up and take him back to New York State and his family. Therefore, Solomon Northup taught me the importance of knowing the power of silence at the right hour.As the young people say, "he kept it "real" for twelve long years. That's a mighty long time to give free labor while you are treated as less than a man in every way. In the end, Epps still called Northup "that d______d nigger." He didn't change one bit in his thinking. As a matter of fact he headed out on his horse to find a way to stop this foolish behavior. Had the world gone nuts? To Epps and white men like him, yes, the world was losing its way. Their workers in a few year would be set free. The Land of Cotton was in danger. Who else would do such work with so little food and clothing while being beater with whips?If only the "men or masters" around Northup, had looked at that last name. It would have told them life was going to change for the better and the North would help it happen. When it begun to happen, the Civil War, there would be no way for the slaves to go but "up." Up in their geography and Up in their thinking..america.aljazeera.com/watch/shows/america-tonight/subject-of-12yearsaslave150yearsinwronggrave.html

[jimrgill · Valutazione: 4 su 5 stelle]

It’s quite tempting to call “Twelve Years a Slave” an overlooked or rediscovered classic, since it fell into obscurity after its initial success upon publication in 1853 and was pretty much forgotten until 1968, when a couple of historians decided to examine its accuracy. I suspect, however, that its neglect by the general public (and literary and historical scholars) has more to do with its author and its truth. Considering that Harriett Beecher Stowe’s “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” (a fictional tale of slavery written by a white woman)—which was published just a year before Northrup’s autobiographical account of his abduction and forced bondage—has remained a canonical part of 19th century American literature, one wonders whether Northrup’s tale was perhaps less palatable to the literary and historical community because of its authenticity.Although the book contains disturbing depictions of whippings, detailed accounts of a slave’s day laboring in the cotton fields or the sugar mill, and the overall miserable living conditions of slaves—along with honest portrayals of unmitigated sadism committed by white men and women—Northrup does not embellish these accounts or depict them as outlandishly gruesome and brutal (though they no doubt were). His tone is almost demure and understated throughout—his dignity and sense of propriety triumphs over any vengeance or bitterness he undoubtedly felt.Reading Northrup’s memoir alongside Stowe’s novel would, I suspect, yield some valuable insights regarding the power of both genres in terms of narrative art and historiography.

[garysims-1 · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

This is a very old story... a plague from throughout human history. Even though Solomon is revealing his personal story from a 160 years ago, it is as fresh as if it happened today. Why? Because it still is happening today. Human trafficking is a blight on humanity... not only on those who participate but on those who are not outraged enough to do something about it. If you read this book and then continue to ignore the plight of sex-slave victims in your own town, state, country, and world, you are as guilty as those who pick up the whip and flail the backs of the down-troddened and victimized women and children every day. Read this book and then become an advocate for the poor and defenseless until this blight is removed.

[thewanderingjew_1 · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

This is the harrowing account of a free black man who was kidnapped. His free papers were stolen, he was viciously beaten into submission and then transported to plantations in the south as a slave. His whereabouts were unknown to any and all who could free him. The idea that any man, of any color, or any background, could be captured and penned, treated like no more than a brute animal, should have been, then and surely now, nothing short of anathema to any breathing human being. Ignorance could not be a legitimate excuse, anymore than it could have been during the Holocaust. Myself, I am at a loss to understand why an economy driven by slaves would be exalted, why greed would be elevated to heights higher than human dignity.Man’s inhumanity to man, man’s ability to turn a blind eye to human suffering for monetary gain, will render the reader speechless and horrified. As a Jew whose history is steeped in slavery, I felt personally affected by his plight and angered to the point of distraction, because there is absolutely nothing anyone can do today to reverse the effects of the terrible injustice imposed upon people, simply because of their color. They were kept illiterate, forbidden to improve their station in life, beaten violently for the slightest infractions, by people who would not have wanted such a life for themselves or anyone they associated with, and yet, they turned a blind eye to accumulate the all-mighty dollar. Those who hated, taught their offspring to hate. Those who hated, hired overseers who hated. Those who hated often got away unscathed. Justice was usually not served for the black man. No matter how many times one reads about slavery, it is impossible to get used to the idea that human trafficking existed in this country with very little opposition, for many years, and today, still exists in other avenues of the culture.The successful economy of the plantation depended upon slavery, but while the South flourished, the slaves did not. They worked until their deaths, without hope of freedom or any basic civil rights. In this book, there is a definitive description of the life of a slave, by a man who walked in those shoes. No man or woman could possibly begin to understand the horror of a slave’s existence, the helplessness, the shame, the humiliation, the human suffering, unless they walked in those shoes, themselves. The reader will come to understand, more fully, how cruel and barbaric the practice was and will understand why it has been so hard, for those enslaved and their descendants, to achieve success, even today.Families were torn asunder, children were separated from mothers, husbands from wives, friends from friends, and then subjected to abuse, beatings, rape, overwork, starvation, unlivable living conditions, and brutal masters, until they were completely subdued and weakened, unable to defend themselves, unable to change their circumstances, unable to do anything but acquiesce or die.From Solomon’s descriptions of the despicable treatment of the slaves, as if they were less than human, lower than animals in bondage, made to respond like automatons, the reader will come to understand how strong these people had to be, mentally and physically, in order to withstand so much cruelty and exploitation, in order not to succumb. One will wonder why they would even want to live under such conditions, yet they found a way to find enjoyment and pleasure in the few moments they could share together, on holidays, in evenings, in moments when they were alone. They managed to create communities for themselves, even under such horrendous circumstances. Solomon makes it a point of saying that not all masters were cruel. He often found goodness in unexpected places. He, himself, was sometimes forced to be cruel to his friends and fellow slaves, forced to lose his own humanity by joining forces with the masters in order to avoid his own abuse and beatings. His plight, during his years as a slave, when he was required to whip fellow slaves, reminded me of that of the Kapos, during the Holocaust. Kapos were prisoners who meted out the justice and punishment upon other prisoners, for their Nazi captors. Were they co-conspirators or simply saving their own skins? It is an ethical conundrum.Perhaps not all masters were the same, but all owned their slaves and valued them more for their purchase or resale price and their productivity, rather than for their lives. Some slaves, realizing they would never be free, tried to escape. When caught, the punishment was inhuman. They were whipped beyond comprehension or murdered. Although many tried hard to please their masters, they were often caught between the petty jealousies of the master and the mistress, neither willing to understand that a slave had no choice but to do what they were told, that they had no free will. There was no safety for them. There were no defenders of their plight.Simply reading about the beatings, often beyond human endurance, made my skin crawl, made me want to find those barbaric, immoral, insensitive savages who treated other human beings so maliciously, though they are long gone. These poor victims had no recourse whatsoever. The mercilessness of the owners and the overseers leaves the reader aghast and hoping there is an afterlife where these people do get their just desserts. They were totally selfish and cold-blooded, pitiless and callous. There are simply no adequate words to describe that blight upon our history.The years of beatings and abuse never broke Solomon’s spirit; he saw good qualities in almost everyone he met and always maintained a positive attitude, hoping to be free again.In this memoir, he presents a clear, concise description of slavery from a slave’s vantage point. His daily life was one of monotonous, unending labor and fear. Solomon was luckier than most. He played the violin and could entertain plantation owners, occasionally escaping the toil of his fellow slaves. He was clever and could build and repair most things, unlike the vast majority of slaves who were kept totally imprisoned by their forced life of ignorance. He was therefore, more valued. He knew of the outside world, while they knew of no other than the world of master and slave. He lived to go from his capture and captivity to freedom and his wife and family. He lived to try and see the worst of these slave traders cringe in fear, but not, unfortunately, brought to justice. Even though he was a free man in the eyes of the law, in the eyes of the world, he was still subservient, still second class. Once free, I read that he lectured on his experiences and also worked on behalf of the cause to abolish slavery and to aid other slaves seeking freedom through the Underground Railroad.The descriptions of the cultivation and picking of the cotton and the process of planting and cutting of the sugar cane, as well as the explanation of how some of the crude equipment worked, was sometimes tedious, and that was the only drawback I could find in this beautifully written memoir, read by Louis Gossett Jr.

[john257hopper · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

Solomon Northup was born in 1808, the son of a freedman whose ancestors had been slaves in Rhode Island. In 1841 he was tricked and kidnapped, handed over to slave traders and transported to Louisiana. While initially owned by "the kind, noble, candid, Christian" master, William Ford, he was sold after his master fell on hard times and for most of the rest of his captivity was owned by the cruel Edwin Epps. He had many bitter low points ("there have been hours in my unhappy life....when the contemplation of death as the end of earthly sorrow - of the grave as a resting place for the tired and worn out body - has been pleasant to dwell upon"). He eventually managed to smuggle out letters through a sympathetic contact and secure his freedom and return to his family in New York in 1853. I haven't seen the 2013 film based on this book, but will now seek to do so.Solomon tells his story, published a few months after his return to freedom, in simple but powerful words and is at times quite laconic in its presentation of the sufferings he endures ("..after a bondage of twelve years - it has been suggested that an account of my life and fortunes would not be uninteresting to the public"). Being written with the mindset of the mid-19th century, it contains assumptions that are of its time, e.g. while believing that the black man is as entitled to freedom as the white man, he seems to have imbibed the belief that most (though not all, in his view) white men are inherently superior ("[I was]..conscious, moreover, of an intelligence equal to that of some men, at least, with a fairer skin"; "I clasped them [his children] to my bosom with as warm and tender love as if their clouded skins had been as white as snow"). He recounts the rhythms of the slaves' lives, the brusque separation of family members, the beatings and hard labour, the inadequate and monotonous diet, but above all, I think, the sheer arbitrariness of the slave's life; the knowledge that a master can do anything he or she wishes to what the law deems his or her own property. Despite having worked for both humane and cruel masters, he is clear that "nevertheless, the institution that tolerates such wrong and inhumanity as I have witnessed, is a cruel, unjust, and barbarous one" and that ignorant writers talking about the "pleasures of slave life... will find that ninety-nine out of every hundred [slaves] are intelligent enough to understand their situation, and to cherish in their bosoms the love of freedom, as passionately as themselves." One final powerful image: "Within plain sight of this same house [the slave pen in Washington], looking down from its commanding height upon it, was the Capitol. The voices of patriotic representatives boasting of freedom and equality, and the rattling of the poor slave's chains, almost commingled".Brilliant stuff and a defence of human freedom that is relevant to all races and nations and to any period of time.

[jackiecraven · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

Don't be off-put by the Victorian language. We can blame Northup's editor for that. The book is a must-read document. I would have found the story too incredible to believe if not for the painstaking research of Clifford Brown, Rachel Seligman, and David Friske who drew on original sources for their biography, Solomon Northup: The Complete Story of the Author of Twelve Years A Slave.

[davido1103 · Valutazione: 5 su 5 stelle]

Wrenching, important book by Simon Northrup, an African American free man who is kidnapped and sold into slavery. Written in 1853 (?), apparently helped move public opinion against slavery. Well read performance by Louis Gossett, Jr. (listened to this several months before the movie was released)