Review for The Water Dancer: Passionate and Precise

There is so much to say about Ta Nahisi Coates’ The Water Dancer, so let me get the short synopsis out of the way first. The novel follows Hiram Walker, a young Black man born into slavery with the extraordinary gift of remembering everything. That is, everything except his mother. His father, however, is the owner of the occupied land on which he resides, titled “Lockless” in Virginia, who wants to capitalize off Hiram’s unique abilities. Throughout the book, we follow Hiram through his realization that he cannot live the life that was forced onto him. He navigates major obstacles like trust, freedom, history, and love. However, the story encompasses so much more than that, and I can only attribute the depth and sensibility of it to the author.

In Ta Nehisi Coates’ Instagram bio, it used to read something like “MC is my foundation” when I first started following him. It struck and stayed with me because I thought it an odd phrase to put into an author’s bio and I couldn’t comprehend how a fiction writer could create under a rap lens. Now that I’ve read The Water Dancer, I understand it now and, honestly, it’s a little silly that I didn’t before. I’ve been a rap enthusiast all my life since the moment my mother played Snoop Dogg’s “Who Am I” through the speakers of her old Pontiac Sunfire and my world flipped upside down. It’s an exciting and incredible world because of its roots in freedom, improv, lyricism, exploration, and (importantly) connection that continue to grow and evolve. To incorporate those foundations into a written work of fiction is brilliant, and a testament to Coates’ creativity. However, this idea of connection is not something new to American Literature.

Last year, I took a course titled “Representations of Slavery in U.S. Literature,” which made clear to me that books about slavery have this incredible map in them. Different Black American authors, especially those with books that have come out in the last five or so years, have found creative ways to incorporate their idols into their stories. The biggest example I had before reading The Water Dancer was Colson Whitehead’s The Underground Railroad that drips with references to historical Black academics. Coates, however, takes this to another level. In almost every chapter, I found myself recalling the words of Toni Morrison, Maya Angelou, Booker T. Washington, and at one point, Coates almost word-for-word quotes Frederick Douglass’ memoirs. I’m also sure I’m missing many more. However, I would also add that the entire premise of the book may even draw inspiration from the life of another Black historical figure. I won’t say who, though, as they’re actually a character in the novel and I wouldn’t want to steal the gleeful realization I experienced from anyone who wants to read it for themselves. Regardless, the inspiration to incorporate all these words from authors past strikes me as a note from the rap world. It isn’t new, but it is certainly ongoing, to reference the greats of the past in rap songs. For example, in Jay-Z’s section of Beyoncé’s 2019 song “Mood 4 Eva” he rhymes, “I be feeling like Prince in ’84, Mike in ’79, Biggie in ’97, ’94 Nas, Ali Bomaye, no kumbaya just give me the sommelier” and cements a network of idols in a way similar to Coates’ novel. It’s a nexus of Black excellence, really, and one that is further rooted in the imperative of memory.

This theme of memory in the novel is one of my favourites, too, as Coates uses this nexus method to emphasize that nothing can move forward without first understanding where it came from (a message that feels particularly pertinent in the aftermath of yesterday's events). I find that a basic writing strategy today is to hide the meaning of a novel's themes within different literary devices that produce endless papers in universities around the globe. Coates’ actively defies this as there is no hiding anything when it comes to the message of the book, and it is in fact stated multiple times by both the characters and the speaker (and, as a side note, I am not altogether sure who that is). This, however, does not mean that the story lacks depth, just as different songs do not lack depth because they directly state their purpose. A message does not lack impact just because it is plainly stated. The novel has depth in many ways, from the doubtless symbolism of everyone’s name, to the water, to the colours, and of course in its statements of memory’s importance. However, much of its depth, for me, lies in what I did not expect: the love story.

Amidst everything, Coates effortlessly writes a gentleness into his main character. Hiram’s relationship to water maps an effortless ebb and flow into the narrative, especially with the love interest, Sophia. The softness that radiates through Hiram for Sophia is beautiful to read in addition to the lovely depth of Sophia in that she is gentle too, but not in the doting way that many male writers illustrate women to be. It is a tenderness rooted in reality that I enjoyed reading immensely. It is also just a remarkable thought that, even with the most terrible of atrocities forced on to someone, they can still create space for and choose love. Coates further has these beautiful moments that pop up sometimes, usually in the presence of Sophia, in which the speaker doles out retroactive wisdom that the present readers can grapple with for themselves. There is also a sense of protection for his readers that comes from the novel as Coates never vividly goes into the violence of slavery and instead focuses largely on the feelings that came from it. It’s a beautiful read and a wonderful display of creativity and sensitivity.

The only note that kept popping up in my head as I read the book was Coates’ skirt around Indigeneity. As most things do, the story always comes back to the stolen land and each character’s relationship to it. For a time in which Indigenous nations were actively living through genocide (as they still are), I kept finding that Coates would only casually mention Indigenous folks in passing, as though they were a loose end he needed to tie up. This also subtly enforces the myth of Indigeneity, as though they were gone by the time this story took place even though Indigenous folks continue to survive and thrive today. It is certainly not something that lessens the impact or beauty of the novel, it is only something that surprised me as Coates took such care and consideration to make everything else in the story so abundantly purposeful and clear.

Overall, however, the book is as the title of this review stipulates: passionate and precise. Coates proves himself to be one of the best and most creative writers of our generation in this novel and I certainly highly recommend it!