For some time, I’ve been the de facto book reviewer for the Memphis Flyer, as well as Memphis magazine and Memphis Parent. It’s a gig I’ve cherished and enjoyed, and I fully expect my byline will still appear alongside the occasional book review, if with a somewhat diminished frequency. The downside of being the company book reviewer, though, is I didn’t always feel free to explore every book that caught my fancy. If it wasn’t published recently, didn’t have a local angle, or was just too darn weird, I’d save it for some indeterminate future date. There were too many books to read for work, too many stories to sample and share with my fellow Memphians.
Well, those days are done, and recently I read the (terrifying, disturbing, excellent) new novel by Rivers Solomon purely on the recommendation of a bookseller at one of the local indie bookstores. (Thanks, Stuart!)
That novel, Sorrowland, follows Vern as she escapes from a religious compound and flees to the woods. The compound, Cainland, began as a refuge for Black Americans, a cooperative movement where they could look out for one another since so few others cared to take on that task. But at some point, the people of Cainland were set on a different path. Vern, plagued by hallucinations and strange aches, eventually learns that Cainland was infiltrated as part of a government-led COINTELPRO maneuver, one that transformed the haven into a house of horrors where its inhabitants were unknowingly experimented upon. Sorrowland is a work of fiction, but its pages are dotted with references to real, documented instances that prove its plot is plausible. Predictable, even.
Timing, as they say, is everything, and the timing for my dive into Sorrowland couldn’t have been more perfect if I had planned it. (I did not.) I began the book the same evening, literally hours after I drove to Health Sciences Park to take a photo, for a Flyer Politics Beat Blog piece, of the former resting place of Confederate general, slave trader, and Ku Klux Klan leader Nathan Bedford Forrest and his wife. Those days are over, too. Last week, the Forrests were removed from our city and are now on their way to a site in Columbia, Tennessee.
I am not sorry to see those bones leave Memphis.
Yes, Forrest is a part of Tennessee history, and I believe students should learn about his part in it. His legacy is that of a man who robbed Black men and women of their dignity, freedom, and lives. It’s a legacy we should never forget or banish to the back corners of our minds, but anyone whose CV reads like the one listed above has no place in any public park. If one of your biggest accomplishments would now be classified as a crime against humanity, you don’t get a statue.
We get to choose who we put on a pedestal, and we should make those decisions together as a community. Choosing not to enshrine someone in a place of prominence isn’t erasure or cancellation or rewriting history. It’s just a matter of choosing who we celebrate, and I think that we can find better heroes.
Every Memphian should feel welcome in our public parks, and using a public space to honor someone with a history of oppression sends a message that more than 60 percent of our city’s population is not welcome. That message, intended or not, just does not sit well with me.