Kindred as a Fiction

Since the beginning of the semester we have asked ourselves what history and fiction mean in relation to each other, and where the fine line of differentiation lies. Continuing this search for knowledge, we embark on our literary journey with Kindred pondering over the question of how the form of fiction is significant in bringing the atmosphere of 19^th century slave life to an audience. In short, the answer would be that Octavia E. Butler specifically chooses to write a work of fiction with the purpose of creating the most meaningful and vivid account of the racist society the book is centered on. As opposed to a historical text, she can truly draw the emotion into play, rather than string together a narration of cold hard facts and numbers. The power of fiction is interestingly actually hinted at within the novel itself when Dana is reading to Rufus. As Dana dives into the story of Robinson Crusoe, she thinks, “As a kind of castaway myself, I was happy to escape into the fictional world of someone else’s trouble.” The entire scene is covered in a sense of pleasure on the part of both Dana and Rufus, and they become lost in a world other than their own, relating to the idea of heterocosms we have discussed in class. Their enjoyment of Robinson Crusoe is pretty cool since as I was reading I felt it was a parallel to how we, as readers, are pulled into the fictional story of Kindred.

The Prologue opens the novel in a distinctive fashion by jarring the reader with an emotionally and physically painful event. At the same time, the narrator is in a haze that clears only at the start of The River, and it is not until then that Dana recognizes/acknowledges our (the readers) presence. There are high levels of significance in the Prologue because we are aware of the fact that it is actually the end of events, in other words, the close to Dana’s story. However, by presenting it at the beginning, Butler manages to immediately notify readers of the stakes at hand, and the tensions present. By illustrating a physical injury of Dana, we are assured that the time travel throughout the novel is not a distant nonrealistic means of transportation. Instead, it beckons the reader to join the journey of Dana who is experiencing the time travel in a very active way herself. Consequently, everything Dana goes through, we go through (to some extent). Butler does a superb job in using her Prologue to set the mindset of readers for the rest of the book clearly. So basically her fiction takes full advantage of the opportunities a fiction provides in creating enhanced experiences and understanding for the audience.

One of the moments where I really felt the power of fiction was when Dana was watching Alice’s father getting whipped in the woods near his cabin. Dana narrates, “I could literally smell his sweat, hear every ragged breath, hear his cry, every cut of the whip. I could see his body jerking, convulsing, straining against the rope as his screaming went on and on.” Such imagery would not be possible in a standard history text, but is used effectively by Butler. The suspense of the event as Dana is watching from a hidden location ties in with the mindset Butler offers the reader to take through the Prologue, and the result is that we feel the heat of the moment with Dana. Not long after in the passage, Dana stressfully contemplates how she has never seen anything like what she is seeing at the moment of the whipping, and even compares her new understanding to her old understanding based on modern portrayals by television.

In a way, our emotions and perspective on the subject of the ante bellum South shift as Dana’s understanding shifts. Butler is aware of this, and ultimately that is a primary reason why Kindred is presented in the form of fiction.