Twelve Years a Slave

A few months ago, I joined a memoir writing class. 

"I am not sure why I have taken this class," I said in my introduction. "I don't think my life in interesting enough to make a read-worthy memoir."

This was not a concern for Solomon Northup when he was asked to write his memoir in 1853. In his 50-odd years he had been through some extraordinary situations. He was a free black man at a time when it was a privilege to be one. When he was about 30 years old, he was duped, abducted and sold as a slave. Over the 12 years that he lived as a slave, he worked on plantations, changed owners, was abused and tortured, until he was rescued and united with his wife and two grown children. 

The film had me riveted. And when the end credits rolled up to inform that it was based on the memoir of Solomon Northup, I knew I had to read it. It was not so much the story, which I already knew from the film, but the fact that it was a memoir written in the 19th century by a man who was not a professional writer. He was just someone who had led an unusual life. 

The book disappoints. Wikipedia describes the memoir "as told to and edited by David Wilson", and that's what it is. It reads like a narrative account by the memoirist as it was told and reads like a first draft. No techniques of the craft of writing seem to have been applied to endear itself to the reader. The story is expected to achieve that feat on its own. Already familiar with the story, I gave up at page 40. When it was first released in 1853, Solomon's memoir sold 30000 copies making a bestseller in those times. I suspect it had more to do with the subject matter and the fact that it followed close on the heels of Uncle Tom's Cabin, a story based on the same topic but much better written. 

Watch the movie, skip the book or re-read Uncle Tom's Cabin.