{"title":"在大房子的阴影中:路易斯安那州 21 世纪前奴隶小屋和遗产旅游》,作者斯蒂芬-斯莫尔(评论)","authors":"Tanya L. Shields","doi":"10.1353/soh.2024.a932586","DOIUrl":null,"url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\n<p> <span>Reviewed by:</span> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> <em>In the Shadows of the Big House: Twenty-First-Century Antebellum Slave Cabins and Heritage Tourism in Louisiana</em> by Stephen Small <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Tanya L. Shields </li> </ul> <em>In the Shadows of the Big House: Twenty-First-Century Antebellum Slave Cabins and Heritage Tourism in Louisiana</em>. By Stephen Small. Atlantic Migrations and the African Diaspora. (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2023. Pp. xiv, 254. Paper, $30.00, ISBN 978-1-4968-4556-6; cloth, $99.00, ISBN 978-1-4968-4555-9.) <p>Stephen Small’s <em>In the Shadows of the Big House: Twenty-First-Century Antebellum Slave Cabins and Heritage Tourism in Louisiana</em> explores the lives of the enslaved by looking at the physical spaces they occupied: their cabins. Small focuses on “how power and access to resources lead to certain types of social remembering and social forgetting” in the remnants of slave cabins on three plantations in Natchitoches, Louisiana (p. 178).</p> <p>The core chapters showcase Small’s main claims about the discursive and ideological framing of tour narratives. Small asserts that integrating the enslaved quarters would undermine plantation sites’ “grand narrative,” which emphasizes elite white southerners’ gentility, romance, and paternalism, while leaning heavily on visitors’ expectations to maintain the status quo (p. vii). Countering this ubiquitous heritage tourism script, he argues that cabins were “places of community, shared experiences, and family . . . [and] places of relative independence, autonomy, and decision-making free from the wretched surveillance and unrestricted violence of white racism” (pp. 195–96). Alongside paying scrupulous attention to the materiality of the dwellings, he pieces together information on the people, known and unknown, who lived in them, on the respite cabins provided to their enslaved residents, and on their use in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. However, phrases like “no definitive proof,” “little documentary evidence,” and other mitigating language stifle Small’s claims, highlighting that the archive of documentary evidence about enslaved people relies on reading contextually (pp. 96, 131). Small suggests methods of historically grounded speculation as we await an ever- growing body of archaeological research. <strong>[End Page 633]</strong></p> <p>Small explains that heritage tourism in Natchitoches was framed by the commemorative work of white women in the postbellum period. Women of all races, ethnicities, and classes commemorated the dead, but “White women of all classes had primary responsibility for commemorating their dead husbands, brothers, and sons. Elite white women took the lead” (p. 47). He juxtaposes how competing interests reflect current concerns. Melrose plantation, originally called Yucca plantation and owned by Louis Métoyer, a Cane River Creole of color, was bought by Joseph Henry in the late nineteenth century. The property was inherited by Joseph’s son, John Hampton Henry, and his wife, Carmelite “Cammie” Henry, who administered the property after her husband’s death. As Small details, the twenty-first-century tour, despite the rich Black history of the plantation, focuses on three female figures: the Black founder of the Métoyer family, Marie Thérèse Coin Coin; Cammie Henry, who founded an artists’ and writers’ colony; and famed African American folk artist Clementine Hunter. Small argues that this focus represented a “narrative of symbolic annihilation” of the lives and experiences of most Black people who lived and worked on the plantation (p. 172). Critical to Small’s narrative is ownership—and who owns plantations still matters. Partly due to greater financial and human resources, two other plantations, owned by the National Park Service, Oakland and Magnolia, achieve “relative incorporation” by addressing Black experiences in abstract (albeit not always in humanizing) ways (p. 184). By contrast, Melrose’s tourism operation formed under the auspices of the elite commemorative class, and it is a nonprofit with limited funds and staff. Against these examples, the very quest for survival as well as a lack of invitation has kept Black participation in heritage tourism on the margins.</p> <p>Ultimately, Small’s work reminds us that what Saidiya Hartman refers to as “the afterlife of slavery” (<em>Lose Your Mother: A Journey Along the Atlantic Slave Route</em> [New York, 2007], p. 6) not only remains with us but also stubbornly shapes our daily interactions. While at times repetitive, Small’s claims about plantations’ grand narratives and his spatial and temporal challenge...</p> </p>","PeriodicalId":45484,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF SOUTHERN HISTORY","volume":"49 1","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":0.8000,"publicationDate":"2024-07-16","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":"0","resultStr":"{\"title\":\"In the Shadows of the Big House: Twenty-First-Century Antebellum Slave Cabins and Heritage Tourism in Louisiana by Stephen Small (review)\",\"authors\":\"Tanya L. Shields\",\"doi\":\"10.1353/soh.2024.a932586\",\"DOIUrl\":null,\"url\":null,\"abstract\":\"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\\n<p> <span>Reviewed by:</span> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> <em>In the Shadows of the Big House: Twenty-First-Century Antebellum Slave Cabins and Heritage Tourism in Louisiana</em> by Stephen Small <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Tanya L. Shields </li> </ul> <em>In the Shadows of the Big House: Twenty-First-Century Antebellum Slave Cabins and Heritage Tourism in Louisiana</em>. By Stephen Small. Atlantic Migrations and the African Diaspora. (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2023. Pp. xiv, 254. Paper, $30.00, ISBN 978-1-4968-4556-6; cloth, $99.00, ISBN 978-1-4968-4555-9.) <p>Stephen Small’s <em>In the Shadows of the Big House: Twenty-First-Century Antebellum Slave Cabins and Heritage Tourism in Louisiana</em> explores the lives of the enslaved by looking at the physical spaces they occupied: their cabins. Small focuses on “how power and access to resources lead to certain types of social remembering and social forgetting” in the remnants of slave cabins on three plantations in Natchitoches, Louisiana (p. 178).</p> <p>The core chapters showcase Small’s main claims about the discursive and ideological framing of tour narratives. Small asserts that integrating the enslaved quarters would undermine plantation sites’ “grand narrative,” which emphasizes elite white southerners’ gentility, romance, and paternalism, while leaning heavily on visitors’ expectations to maintain the status quo (p. vii). Countering this ubiquitous heritage tourism script, he argues that cabins were “places of community, shared experiences, and family . . . [and] places of relative independence, autonomy, and decision-making free from the wretched surveillance and unrestricted violence of white racism” (pp. 195–96). Alongside paying scrupulous attention to the materiality of the dwellings, he pieces together information on the people, known and unknown, who lived in them, on the respite cabins provided to their enslaved residents, and on their use in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. However, phrases like “no definitive proof,” “little documentary evidence,” and other mitigating language stifle Small’s claims, highlighting that the archive of documentary evidence about enslaved people relies on reading contextually (pp. 96, 131). Small suggests methods of historically grounded speculation as we await an ever- growing body of archaeological research. <strong>[End Page 633]</strong></p> <p>Small explains that heritage tourism in Natchitoches was framed by the commemorative work of white women in the postbellum period. Women of all races, ethnicities, and classes commemorated the dead, but “White women of all classes had primary responsibility for commemorating their dead husbands, brothers, and sons. Elite white women took the lead” (p. 47). He juxtaposes how competing interests reflect current concerns. Melrose plantation, originally called Yucca plantation and owned by Louis Métoyer, a Cane River Creole of color, was bought by Joseph Henry in the late nineteenth century. The property was inherited by Joseph’s son, John Hampton Henry, and his wife, Carmelite “Cammie” Henry, who administered the property after her husband’s death. As Small details, the twenty-first-century tour, despite the rich Black history of the plantation, focuses on three female figures: the Black founder of the Métoyer family, Marie Thérèse Coin Coin; Cammie Henry, who founded an artists’ and writers’ colony; and famed African American folk artist Clementine Hunter. Small argues that this focus represented a “narrative of symbolic annihilation” of the lives and experiences of most Black people who lived and worked on the plantation (p. 172). Critical to Small’s narrative is ownership—and who owns plantations still matters. Partly due to greater financial and human resources, two other plantations, owned by the National Park Service, Oakland and Magnolia, achieve “relative incorporation” by addressing Black experiences in abstract (albeit not always in humanizing) ways (p. 184). By contrast, Melrose’s tourism operation formed under the auspices of the elite commemorative class, and it is a nonprofit with limited funds and staff. Against these examples, the very quest for survival as well as a lack of invitation has kept Black participation in heritage tourism on the margins.</p> <p>Ultimately, Small’s work reminds us that what Saidiya Hartman refers to as “the afterlife of slavery” (<em>Lose Your Mother: A Journey Along the Atlantic Slave Route</em> [New York, 2007], p. 6) not only remains with us but also stubbornly shapes our daily interactions. 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引用次数: 0
摘要
以下是内容的简要摘录,以代替摘要:评论者: 在大房子的阴影下:路易斯安那州 21 世纪前奴隶小屋和遗产旅游》,作者:斯蒂芬-斯莫尔 Tanya L. Shields 在大屋的阴影下:路易斯安那州 21 世纪前奴隶小屋和遗产旅游。作者:斯蒂芬-斯莫尔大西洋移民和非洲移民社群》。(杰克逊:密西西比大学出版社,2023 年。第 xiv、254 页。纸质版,30.00 美元,ISBN 978-1-4968-4556-6;布质版,99.00 美元,ISBN 978-1-4968-4555-9)。斯蒂芬-斯莫尔(Stephen Small)的《在大宅的阴影中》(In the Shadows of the Big House:路易斯安那州 21 世纪前奴隶小木屋和遗产旅游》通过研究奴隶居住的物理空间--他们的小木屋,探讨了奴隶的生活。斯莫尔重点研究了路易斯安那州纳奇托什市三个种植园的奴隶小木屋遗迹中 "权力和资源获取如何导致特定类型的社会记忆和社会遗忘"(第 178 页)。核心章节展示了斯莫尔关于旅游叙事的话语和意识形态框架的主要主张。斯莫尔断言,整合奴隶区将破坏种植园遗址的 "宏大叙事",这种叙事强调南方白人精英的绅士风度、浪漫和家长作风,同时严重依赖游客对维持现状的期望(第 vii 页)。针对这种无处不在的遗产旅游剧本,他认为小木屋是 "社区、共享经验和家庭的地方......。[和]相对独立、自主和决策的地方,不受白人种族主义的监视和无限制的暴力"(第 195-96 页)。除了严格关注这些住所的物质性之外,他还拼凑了有关居住在这些住所中的已知和未知人群、小木屋为其被奴役居民提供的休息场所以及这些住所在 20 世纪和 21 世纪的使用情况的信息。然而,"没有确切的证据"、"很少的文献证据 "等措辞以及其他缓和的语言扼杀了斯莫尔的主张,突出表明有关被奴役者的文献证据档案依赖于上下文阅读(第 96 页和第 131 页)。斯莫尔提出了一些以历史为基础的推测方法,我们正在等待越来越多的考古研究成果。[第 633 页末] 斯莫尔解释说,纳奇托什的遗产旅游是由白人妇女在战后时期的纪念活动所决定的。所有种族、民族和阶级的妇女都纪念死者,但 "所有阶级的白人妇女都对纪念她们死去的丈夫、兄弟和儿子负有主要责任。精英白人妇女起着主导作用"(第 47 页)。他并列了相互竞争的利益如何反映当前的关切。梅尔罗斯种植园原名 Yucca 种植园,由凯恩河克里奥尔有色人种路易斯-梅托耶所有,约瑟夫-亨利在 19 世纪末买下了该种植园。约瑟夫-亨利的儿子约翰-汉普顿-亨利和他的妻子卡梅莉特-"卡米"-亨利继承了该庄园,并在丈夫去世后由卡梅莉特-"卡米"-亨利管理庄园。正如斯莫尔所详细描述的那样,尽管种植园有着丰富的黑人历史,但二十一世纪的游览重点却放在了三位女性身上:梅托耶家族的黑人创始人玛丽-泰雷兹-科因-科因、创建了艺术家和作家聚居地的卡米-亨利以及著名的非裔美国民间艺术家克莱门汀-亨特。斯莫尔认为,这种关注代表了对在种植园生活和工作的大多数黑人的生活和经历的 "象征性湮灭叙事"(第 172 页)。对于斯莫尔的叙述来说,所有权是关键--谁拥有种植园仍然很重要。部分由于拥有更多的财力和人力资源,国家公园管理局拥有的另外两个种植园--奥克兰种植园和木兰种植园--通过以抽象的方式(尽管并不总是人性化的方式)讲述黑人的经历,实现了 "相对的融入"(第 184 页)。相比之下,梅尔罗斯的旅游业务是在精英纪念阶层的支持下形成的,它是一个非营利组织,资金和人员都很有限。在这些例子中,对生存的追求以及缺乏邀请使得黑人参与遗产旅游一直处于边缘地位。最终,斯莫尔的作品提醒我们,赛迪娅-哈特曼(Saidiya Hartman)所说的 "奴隶制的来世"(《失去你的母亲:Lose Your Mother: A Journey Along the Atlantic Slave Route [New York, 2007], p.6)不仅与我们同在,而且还顽固地影响着我们的日常互动。斯莫尔关于种植园宏大叙事的主张以及他对空间和时间的挑战有时是重复的。
In the Shadows of the Big House: Twenty-First-Century Antebellum Slave Cabins and Heritage Tourism in Louisiana by Stephen Small (review)
In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:
Reviewed by:
In the Shadows of the Big House: Twenty-First-Century Antebellum Slave Cabins and Heritage Tourism in Louisiana by Stephen Small
Tanya L. Shields
In the Shadows of the Big House: Twenty-First-Century Antebellum Slave Cabins and Heritage Tourism in Louisiana. By Stephen Small. Atlantic Migrations and the African Diaspora. (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2023. Pp. xiv, 254. Paper, $30.00, ISBN 978-1-4968-4556-6; cloth, $99.00, ISBN 978-1-4968-4555-9.)
Stephen Small’s In the Shadows of the Big House: Twenty-First-Century Antebellum Slave Cabins and Heritage Tourism in Louisiana explores the lives of the enslaved by looking at the physical spaces they occupied: their cabins. Small focuses on “how power and access to resources lead to certain types of social remembering and social forgetting” in the remnants of slave cabins on three plantations in Natchitoches, Louisiana (p. 178).
The core chapters showcase Small’s main claims about the discursive and ideological framing of tour narratives. Small asserts that integrating the enslaved quarters would undermine plantation sites’ “grand narrative,” which emphasizes elite white southerners’ gentility, romance, and paternalism, while leaning heavily on visitors’ expectations to maintain the status quo (p. vii). Countering this ubiquitous heritage tourism script, he argues that cabins were “places of community, shared experiences, and family . . . [and] places of relative independence, autonomy, and decision-making free from the wretched surveillance and unrestricted violence of white racism” (pp. 195–96). Alongside paying scrupulous attention to the materiality of the dwellings, he pieces together information on the people, known and unknown, who lived in them, on the respite cabins provided to their enslaved residents, and on their use in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. However, phrases like “no definitive proof,” “little documentary evidence,” and other mitigating language stifle Small’s claims, highlighting that the archive of documentary evidence about enslaved people relies on reading contextually (pp. 96, 131). Small suggests methods of historically grounded speculation as we await an ever- growing body of archaeological research. [End Page 633]
Small explains that heritage tourism in Natchitoches was framed by the commemorative work of white women in the postbellum period. Women of all races, ethnicities, and classes commemorated the dead, but “White women of all classes had primary responsibility for commemorating their dead husbands, brothers, and sons. Elite white women took the lead” (p. 47). He juxtaposes how competing interests reflect current concerns. Melrose plantation, originally called Yucca plantation and owned by Louis Métoyer, a Cane River Creole of color, was bought by Joseph Henry in the late nineteenth century. The property was inherited by Joseph’s son, John Hampton Henry, and his wife, Carmelite “Cammie” Henry, who administered the property after her husband’s death. As Small details, the twenty-first-century tour, despite the rich Black history of the plantation, focuses on three female figures: the Black founder of the Métoyer family, Marie Thérèse Coin Coin; Cammie Henry, who founded an artists’ and writers’ colony; and famed African American folk artist Clementine Hunter. Small argues that this focus represented a “narrative of symbolic annihilation” of the lives and experiences of most Black people who lived and worked on the plantation (p. 172). Critical to Small’s narrative is ownership—and who owns plantations still matters. Partly due to greater financial and human resources, two other plantations, owned by the National Park Service, Oakland and Magnolia, achieve “relative incorporation” by addressing Black experiences in abstract (albeit not always in humanizing) ways (p. 184). By contrast, Melrose’s tourism operation formed under the auspices of the elite commemorative class, and it is a nonprofit with limited funds and staff. Against these examples, the very quest for survival as well as a lack of invitation has kept Black participation in heritage tourism on the margins.
Ultimately, Small’s work reminds us that what Saidiya Hartman refers to as “the afterlife of slavery” (Lose Your Mother: A Journey Along the Atlantic Slave Route [New York, 2007], p. 6) not only remains with us but also stubbornly shapes our daily interactions. While at times repetitive, Small’s claims about plantations’ grand narratives and his spatial and temporal challenge...