I just finished reading The People Could Fly, and I have some tears drying in my eyes. I was absolutely touched by the last folktale—wow—the imagery of Toby and his people flying up and away from their fields of misery spoke to me. Oh, how I wish all of the others could have flown away too. The tale was beautiful and sad, and I have been moved. I found the tales about winning freedom to be especially enjoyable for many reasons, not the least of which is how I can identify with their very "human-ness"—the human desire and need to make sense of what is insensible and to inspire hope where there is none.
I have never been able to fully grasp slavery. It is anathema to me. As a result, while fascinated by the history, I have never sought to expose myself to it too deeply. Thinking about it too much is painful for me, and I feel a rage build when I think of what has been done to human beings in the name of economic “progress.” However, these tales were an enjoyable journey into folklore that I am relatively unfamiliar with. I struggled a bit with the Gullah in some of the early tales, but reading the words aloud helped some. I kept thinking as I was trying to say the words, “I can’t wait ‘til I have some babies to read this to.” Dialectical excursions are always more fun when there are young ‘uns around…
The animal tales were fun to read, though the “moral of the story” sometimes escaped me, and the Gullah often caused my brow to furrow a bit. I wanted to be sitting around a campfire being told these stories, soaking up their aural richness, and seeing Bruh Rabbit and Tappin come to life in the shadows thrown by licking flames. I especially liked the Fish-Horse. What a great name for a manatee! As I read, I thought about the thousands of years humans have been sitting around campfires personifying the animal kingdom. Maybe for a future class one could take a field trip to a campground and spend the night reading stories around a blazing fire? Just a thought…
The fanciful tales were neat, and I especially liked the illustrations in this section. The Hairy Man tale was my favorite. For some reason, this tale made me think of some of the fantasies I created while living next to a swamp in Florida when I was a kid. I may not have called him Hairy Man, but there was a similar thing that I used to think watched me when I was snake-hunting with my BB gun. Thankfully, I never had to conjure anything up... The Moon Tower story was my least favorite, if only because the kid had to kill her father to marry her, and I tend not to appreciate needless slaying of parental units in any story. Ce la vie.
The supernatural tales were pretty creepy, and I can definitely see great possibilities for campfire-telling with these stories. Maybe it was because it was dark when I read these, but I felt chills, and the illustration in The Peculiar Such Thing was eerily scary to me. I’m not sure I’d show that picture to really-little ones. Then again, perhaps I’m a wuss.
The illustrations in this book were beautifully done and had an almost mythical quality about them. They complemented the tales marvelously. Not to be redundant, but I think all of these tales are better served by campfire visualizations rather than illustrations, but what the Dillons came up with was cool. In fact, if I may be so bold, all of these tales, being derived orally, are best experienced just so. These are stories to be told and heard by the light of the moon. Of course that means some memorizing and creative embellishments on the part of the storyteller, but that’s okay. A good story has always been in the telling.
Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed reading The People Could Fly. It offered me a glimpse into a world I had not chosen to look at before, and it reminded me of the themes and motifs that unite us all under the umbrella of humanity. While dialect may differ, human stories are shared.
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