Uncle Tom’s Cabin is a novel that I’d heard about since elementary school, but never read until now. February is Black History Month, and I thought I would contribute by writing a short review on the book. I finished the book stunned at what Uncle Tom’s Cabin accomplishes at so many levels, finally understanding why it was the 2nd most popular book of the 19th century next to the Bible. It is a beautiful piece of literature, an enlightening piece of historical fiction, and maybe the most thoroughly Christian novel I have ever read.
Harriet Beecher Stowe’s 1852 book was a bestseller before “bestseller” was a term for best-selling books. In its first year, it sold 300,000 copies in the United States and over a million copies in Britain, a colossal number of book sales for that era. Through its depiction of the horrors of slavery, the wanton physical abuse of slaves, the separating and selling of family members to different owners on the auction block, the psychological, social, and economic degradation of human beings, it served like no other book as a literary catalyst for the Civil War.
At the center of the novel is Tom, whose character has been tragically misinterpreted in the 20th and 21st centuries. The arc of the novel follows the plight of Tom, sold by his relatively benign owner Shelby (to settle a debt) to the unscrupulous slave trader Haley, through whom he finds himself purchased by a new master St. Clare and his kind-hearted young daughter Eva. St. Clare, though treating his slaves humanely and promising their freedom upon his death, tragically procrastinates in incorporating this directive into his final will and testament.
Meeting with a sudden and untimely death while breaking up a bar fight, St. Clare’s slaves pass to his odious wife, Marie, who quickly puts them up for auction. Tom is “sold down the river” from Kentucky to the sadistic plantation owner Lagree in New Orleans. Unlike his previous masters who accorded Tom a measure of dignity, Lagree takes pleasure in “breaking him” to the point that he will be willing to execute Lagree’s brutality over other slaves, but Tom would rather face death than become Lagree’s task master.
For an African-American male to be labeled an “Uncle Tom” today is to be accused of weakness, cowering to white authority, accepting white supremacy. This is an easy interpretation given Tom’s willingness to submit to his masters Shelby and St. Clare, and even the abject cruelty of Lagree. But I believe this is a mischaracterization of Beecher Stowe’s intention for her character of Tom. Quite the opposite, it is hard to conceive of a character, fiction or nonfiction, with the strength that Tom portrays in his relationships with others, not of power, but of selfless love. Contrasted with the absence of institutions and rights that would allow Tom power in the worldly sense, Tom’s power lies in his ability to transform the character of others around him through his faith in the goodness of God and his own goodness stemming from that faith. It is the story of the power of divine love, triumphing in the context of powerlessness and apparent hopelessness.
This being true, Uncle Tom’s Cabin is relentless in its strident anti-slavery message, which reverberates chapter after disconcerting chapter. It is a story about the Christ-like character of Tom, but also about an unyielding plea for social justice. Beecher Stowe wrote the novel as a wake-up call to the North, penetrating the Christian consciences of her readers with a shrill, soul-piercing alarm clock. Beecher Stowe reminds us throughout the novel that slavery was not only bad for the slave; it was bad for the master. It was an institution that destroyed black lives physically, and white lives morally and spiritually. Beecher Stowe portrays slavery quite literally as an institution from hell.
That Uncle Tom’s Cabin has been identified as a major catalyst for the Civil War, perhaps even by Lincoln himself, is a testament to the transforming power of narrative. Often as social scientists and economists we believe that data and reason possess the ultimate power to transform thinking, to shape policy, to create institutions that promote efficiency, justice, and equity. But it seems even more often that rather than data and reason, narrative has the power to connect with people emotionally in a way that leads them to take action. If I had lived in the northern state at the dawn of the Civil War as a young man, Uncle Tom’s Cabin would have driven me to enlist.
Uncle Tom’s Cabin is arguably more relevant today than it has been for over a century. In 21st century America personal character has become subservient to an unyielding quest for individual rights on both the right and the left: the right to my assault rifles, my unfettered access to abortion, my right to marijuana. The one who stomps his foot loudest on social media in the name of his rights and interests wins the affection of the group. Characters such as Tom, wise and humble, are antithetical to the spirit of the age. Uncle Tom’s Cabin urges us to return to the spiritual roots of social justice.
Follow AcrossTwoWorlds on Twitter at @BruceWydick.
For Black History Month: A Review of Uncle Tom’s Cabin
Uncle Tom’s Cabin is a novel that I’d heard about since elementary school, but never read until now. February is Black History Month, and I thought I would contribute by writing a short review on the book. I finished the book stunned at what Uncle Tom’s Cabin accomplishes at so many levels, finally understanding why it was the 2nd most popular book of the 19th century next to the Bible. It is a beautiful piece of literature, an enlightening piece of historical fiction, and maybe the most thoroughly Christian novel I have ever read.
At the center of the novel is Tom, whose character has been tragically misinterpreted in the 20th and 21st centuries. The arc of the novel follows the plight of Tom, sold by his relatively benign owner Shelby (to settle a debt) to the unscrupulous slave trader Haley, through whom he finds himself purchased by a new master St. Clare and his kind-hearted young daughter Eva. St. Clare, though treating his slaves humanely and promising their freedom upon his death, tragically procrastinates in incorporating this directive into his final will and testament.
Meeting with a sudden and untimely death while breaking up a bar fight, St. Clare’s slaves pass to his odious wife, Marie, who quickly puts them up for auction. Tom is “sold down the river” from Kentucky to the sadistic plantation owner Lagree in New Orleans. Unlike his previous masters who accorded Tom a measure of dignity, Lagree takes pleasure in “breaking him” to the point that he will be willing to execute Lagree’s brutality over other slaves, but Tom would rather face death than become Lagree’s task master.
For an African-American male to be labeled an “Uncle Tom” today is to be accused of weakness, cowering to white authority, accepting white supremacy. This is an easy interpretation given Tom’s willingness to submit to his masters Shelby and St. Clare, and even the abject cruelty of Lagree. But I believe this is a mischaracterization of Beecher Stowe’s intention for her character of Tom. Quite the opposite, it is hard to conceive of a character, fiction or nonfiction, with the strength that Tom portrays in his relationships with others, not of power, but of selfless love. Contrasted with the absence of institutions and rights that would allow Tom power in the worldly sense, Tom’s power lies in his ability to transform the character of others around him through his faith in the goodness of God and his own goodness stemming from that faith. It is the story of the power of divine love, triumphing in the context of powerlessness and apparent hopelessness.
This being true, Uncle Tom’s Cabin is relentless in its strident anti-slavery message, which reverberates chapter after disconcerting chapter. It is a story about the Christ-like character of Tom, but also about an unyielding plea for social justice. Beecher Stowe wrote the novel as a wake-up call to the North, penetrating the Christian consciences of her readers with a shrill, soul-piercing alarm clock. Beecher Stowe reminds us throughout the novel that slavery was not only bad for the slave; it was bad for the master. It was an institution that destroyed black lives physically, and white lives morally and spiritually. Beecher Stowe portrays slavery quite literally as an institution from hell.
That Uncle Tom’s Cabin has been identified as a major catalyst for the Civil War, perhaps even by Lincoln himself, is a testament to the transforming power of narrative. Often as social scientists and economists we believe that data and reason possess the ultimate power to transform thinking, to shape policy, to create institutions that promote efficiency, justice, and equity. But it seems even more often that rather than data and reason, narrative has the power to connect with people emotionally in a way that leads them to take action. If I had lived in the northern state at the dawn of the Civil War as a young man, Uncle Tom’s Cabin would have driven me to enlist.
Uncle Tom’s Cabin is arguably more relevant today than it has been for over a century. In 21st century America personal character has become subservient to an unyielding quest for individual rights on both the right and the left: the right to my assault rifles, my unfettered access to abortion, my right to marijuana. The one who stomps his foot loudest on social media in the name of his rights and interests wins the affection of the group. Characters such as Tom, wise and humble, are antithetical to the spirit of the age. Uncle Tom’s Cabin urges us to return to the spiritual roots of social justice.
Follow AcrossTwoWorlds on Twitter at @BruceWydick.