[A] torrential, sorrowing tribute to five young black men . . . Ward tells their stories with tenderness and reverence; they live again in these pages. . . . This work of great grief and beauty renders them individual and irreplaceable.” —New York Times, "50 Best Memoirs"
“Men We Reaped reaffirms Ms. Ward's substantial talent. It's an elegiac book that's rangy at the same time. She thinks back about her brother, and about her old dead friends, and about their nighttime adventures in cars. Then she declares, 'I don't ride with anyone like that anymore.'” —Dwight Garner, New York Times
“Jesmyn Ward left her Gulf Coast home for education and experience, but it called her back. It called on her in most painful ways, to mourn. In Men We Reaped, Jesmyn unburies her dead, that they may live again. And through this emotional excavation, she forces us to see the problems of place and race that led these men to their early graves. Full of beauty, love, and dignity, Men We Reaped is a haunting and essential read.” —Natasha Trethewey, US Poet Laureate , author of THRALL and NATIVE GUARD, winner of the Pulitizer Prize
“An assured yet scarifying memoir by young, supremely gifted novelist [Jesmyn] Ward... With more gumption than many, Ward battled not only the indifferent odds of rural poverty, but also the endless racism of her classmates... A modern rejoinder to Black Like Me, Beloved and other stories of struggle and redemption - beautifully written, if sometimes too sad to bear.” —Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
“Jesmyn Ward is simply sui generis. I am reminded of Miles Davis' quote: 'Don't play what's there, play what's not here,' after reading her memoir Men We Reaped. This is one might virtuosic, bluesy hymn. Beautiful.” —Oscar Hijuelos, author of THOUGHTS WITHOUT CIGARETTES
“Jesmyn Ward is an alchemist. She transmutes pain and loss into gold. Men We Reaped illustrates hardships but thankfully, vitally, it's just as clear about the humor, the intelligence, the tenderness, the brilliance of the folks in DeLisle, Mississippi. A community that's usually wiped off the literary map can't be erased when it's in a book this good.” —Victor LaValle, author of THE DEVIL IN SILVER
“Men We Reaped is a fiercely felt meditation on the value of life that at once reminds us of its infinite worth and indicts us - as a society - for our selective, casual complicity in devaluing it. Ward's account of these losses is founded in a compelling emotional honesty, and graced with moments of stark poetry.” —Peter Ho Davies, author of THE WELSH GIRL
“Jesmyn Ward returns to the world of her first two books, but here in the mode of non-fiction. A clear-eyed witness to the harrowing stories of 'men we reaped,' she quickens the dead and brings them, vividly alive again. An eloquent, grief-steeped account.” —Nicholas Delbanco, author of LASTINGNESS: The Art of Old Age
“Jesmyn Ward's memoir is a miracle. In it, she writes with such clarity and beauty that her discoveries and revelations could very well change the way her readers understand the world. She also makes the unbearable nearly bearable with her poetic prose and her life-affirming passion. This is fierce, brave exploration, but it is also art - timeless, universal, and unrelentingly inspired.” —Laura Kasischke, author of THE RAISING
“This is a beautifully written homage, with a pathos and understanding that come from being a part of the culture described.” —Booklist
“Jesmyn Ward's heart-wrenching new memoir, Men We Reaped, is a brilliant book about beauty and death. The beauty is in the bodies and the voices of the young men she grew up with in the towns of coastal Mississippi, where a kind of de facto segregation persists.” —LA Times
“Ward has a soft touch, making these stories heartbreakingly real through vivid portrayal and dialogue.” —Publishers Weekly
“Winner of the National Book Award, Winner of the ALA Alex Award, Finalist for the NYPL Young Lions Literary Award, Finalist for the Dayton Literary Peace Prize, Nominee for the IMPAC Dublin Literary Award.” —Salvage the Bones
“The novel's hugeness of heart and fierceness of family grip and hold on like [a] pit bull.” —O, the Oprah Magazine on Salvage the Bones
“Searing.... Despite the brutal world it depicts, Salvage the Bones is a beautiful read. Ward's redolent prose conjures the magic and menace of the southern landscape.” —Dallas Morning News
“Ward uses fearless, toughly lyrical language to convey this family's close-knit tenderness, the sheer bloody-minded difficulty of rural African American life...You owe it to yourself to read this book.” —Library Journal on Salvage the Bones
“Salvage the Bones is an engaging novel that, on the surface, seems like a sorrowful tale of a broken household, yet holds beneath it the cherished story of family and loyalty.” —The Root
“Men We Reaped is an important, and perhaps essential, book, in large part because this accomplished and deservedly lauded novelist somehow summoned the strength to bring us all home with her to the white-hot center of her pain, to the place where that wolf resides.” —San Francisco Chronicle
“The good news, at least for readers, is that Ward tells a rotten fucking story fucking brilliantly. Her prose is conversational and unadorned. It's deceptively simple, until a moment of wrenching tragedy - or surprisingly often, one of astounding beauty - arrives with dangerous propulsion, knocking you off the foot that had seemed to care.” —Willamette Weekly
“Ward creates nuanced and loving portraits of African-American men and boys...a must read.” —The Dallas Morning News
“At a time when many claim America has moved into a post-racial era...Ward uses her family history to reach a personal, yet universal, understanding of the effects that race, class, and gender have had on her life, her community, and her generation.” —BUST
An assured yet scarifying memoir by young, supremely gifted novelist Ward (Salvage the Bones, 2011, etc.). Like the author's novels, this study of life on the margins--of society, of dry land against the bayou, of law--takes place in the stunning tropical heat of southern Mississippi. Her parents had tried to leave there and make new lives in the freedom, vast horizon and open sky of California: "There were no vistas in Mississippi, only dense thickets of trees all around." But they had returned, and in the end, the homecoming broke them apart. Ward observes that the small town of her youth was no New Orleans; there was not much to do there, nor many ennobling prospects. So what do people do in such circumstances? They drink, take drugs, reckon with "the dashed dreams of being a pilot or a doctor," they sink into despair, they die--all things of which Ward writes, achingly, painting portraits of characters such as a young daredevil of a man who proclaimed to anyone who would listen, "I ain't long for this world," and another who shrank into bony nothingness as crack cocaine whittled him away. With more gumption than many, Ward battled not only the indifferent odds of rural poverty, but also the endless racism of her classmates in the school she attended on scholarship, where the only other person of color, a Chinese girl, called blacks "scoobies": " ‘Like Scooby Doo?' I said. ‘Like dogs?' " Yes, like dogs, and by Ward's account, it's a wonder that anyone should have escaped the swamp to make their way in that larger, more spacious world beyond it. A modern rejoinder to Black Like Me, Beloved and other stories of struggle and redemption--beautifully written, if sometimes too sad to bear.