Роман Деланы Р.А. Дамерон рассказывает о том, как верховая езда объединяет чернокожую семью Болтонов на протяжении поколений

Raising horses lifts a Black family across generations Loading... In her deeply moving new novel, “Fairfield County,” celebrated poet and author DéLana R.A. Dameron weaves an unexpected story involving the South (in this case, rural South Carolina), horses, and cowboys – specifically, Black cowboys. In her deft narrative, she completely overturns popular, even mythic, notions of all three. The Bolton family has lived on the same plot of land for generations – first as enslaved people and then as sharecroppers. But the end of World War I provided space for change “long enough for folks like Moses Bolton to see a few feet into tomorrow’s horizon and think there might still be a future for Fairfield County.” Moses, the patriarch of the Bolton clan, is able to secure a homestead cheaply because, in 1937, the land was thought to be used up – overworked from growing cotton. The white owners sold it for pennies on the acre, determining that more money could be made in developing nearby granite quarries. Black people like Moses were offered the opportunity to buy this “useless, terrorized, plundered” land. And they took it. Why We Wrote This On a South Carolina farm, a withdrawn girl finds her place as an equestrian in DéLana R.A. Dameron’s last novel, “Fairfield County.” But this is no up-by-her-bootstraps story, says our reviewer. The South itself is too nuanced and multilayered for that. With ownership came other opportunities. Moses always had a way with horses. He had been a handler and a wrangler. Sometimes, even a trainer. But now, in possession of his own land, he found that he could use his talent to further his own interests and those of his family. He could start breeding horses. Moses liked to say he had been born just a “few steps outside of a life of bondage.” This explains his determination to create a “self-governed life” in which he would “marry publicly, and in a church. Have children and get to keep them. Buy a house ... – things his grandfather could only imagine.” Moses’ ability to bond with and understand horses makes him a legend in Fairfield County and beyond. And he is able to pass this skill to his descendants. Each has a horse story to tell: Moses has Pal O Mine. His son, Lloyd, nurtures Reddmare, and Lloyd’s son, Dwayne, rides Reddmare’s colt, O’Boy. Eventually, Moses’ great-granddaughter, Nikki, will choose Easy, Pal O Mine’s direct descendant, as her legacy mount. In many ways, Nikki Bolton is the beating heart of the novel, and she appears to be a stand-in for Dameron, who did not start riding until midlife. Nikki’s relationship with her mother is fraught, and when Nikki is physically attacked in school by a police officer, she turns into a shy, withdrawn girl. That is, until she visits Fairfield County to see her father and his buddy from the Iraq War, “Uncle” Sonny. The two men introduce her to horses and the equestrian life, and she thrives. But this is no up-by-their-bootstraps story. The South itself is too nuanced and multilayered for that. There are tragedies, including a neighbor lynched because he would not give up the rights to his land. Fires engulf characters we have come to love. Beloved animals must be put down. This is rural life as it’s lived. One of the beauties of this novel is how these experiences are used as framework, never distracting from the portrait of the Boltons that emerges. The story itself is beautifully elliptical. It reminded me of Edward P. Jones’ “The Known World.” We are given a glimpse of events and then drawn into a deeper understanding of them as the story progresses. The only minor nit I would pick with this lovely novel is the fact that Nikki, even though she spent time with her father in Fairfield County, had never heard about her family’s connection to horses. I live in the South and know it to be a very chatty place. Folks down here know not only their family history but they know that of their neighbors as well. And they are quite willing, even eager, to share their information. As the school bus driver, Mrs. Esther, says, “We take care of we.” But this is only the smallest of quibbles. Sadly, “Fairfield County” is Dameron’s final novel, as she died last year. But with this book, she has left behind a rich legacy – her own love of horses and the Black horsewomen and men in a place that she came to call home. I loved the time I spent there – and with them.