The Revisioners: A Novel by Margaret Wilkerson Sexton
Strong Black women form the centerpiece of Margaret Wilkerson Sexton’s Revisioners, which focuses on the power of women, intergenerational trauma, mother-child relationships, caretaking, dementia, and the legacy of white entitlement and racism woven into America. The title of the book refers to eighteen brave slaves who gather in the dark in 1855 to determine who will attempt to flee the plantation. Later, in 1924, Josephine draws her strength from the thought of the revisioners standing in a row behind her.
The three shifting timelines let the author explore from several viewpoints, how race relations in the United States have changed and remained the same across centuries. Josephine speaks to the reader in 1855, when she is enslaved on a plantation in Louisiana, and again in 1924, when she owns a 300-acre farm managed by her son Major. Ava, who brings the story to current times in 2017 is Josephine’s great-great-great granddaughter and at age thirty-four has been asked by her wealthy white grandmother Martha, to become her caretaker and move from Central City in New Orleans into her grandmother’s home.
Both characters and plot are exceptionally well-crafted in The Revisioners, but it is Josephine who steals the show. She is a force of nature, a wonder of a woman, and I am grateful for the wisdom she imparts while allowing me into her world. This is a passionate and earnest story with personal, spiritual, and political themes that should inspire transformative conversations directed toward lasting change.
Throughout The Revisioners, Josephine and Link share their strength with one another and with many others. In this quote, Josephine offers to sit with Link after he realizes Henry won’t be returning.
“‘I can sit with you tonight,’ I say. Everything she’s feeling will be divided in half the longer I sit with her.
She rests her face in her hands. ‘I couldn’t ask you that.’
‘As much as you see me through,’ I start.
‘Not really, you’re strong, Josephine,” she says.
I pause. ‘On account of how much people seen me through,’ I repeat.” [Kindle Version, p. 100]
