Audiobook Sample
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- Title: Darkest Child
- Author: Delores Phillips
- Narrator: Bahni Turpin
- Length: 15:24:51
- Version: Abridged
- Release Date: 30/01/2018
- Publisher: Recorded Books
- Genre: Fiction & Literature, Historical Fiction, Black Literature
- ISBN13: 9.78E+12
I’ve always believed that stories are the truest maps we have, guiding us through landscapes of the human heart just as vividly as any winding road I’ve traveled. So, when I stumbled upon ‘Darkest Child’ by Delores Phillips, narrated by the inimitable Bahni Turpin, I knew I was in for a journey unlike any other. This historical fiction masterpiece, steeped in the rich and often painful tapestry of Black Literature, unfolds like a dusty path through a Georgia town under the iron grip of Jim Crow. It’s a story of Tangy Mae, the darkest-complected of her mother Rozelle’s ten children, whose skin tone shapes her fate in ways that are both heartbreaking and inspiring.
Listening to this audiobook reminded me of a time when I was driving through the Atacama Desert in Chile, the surreal landscape stretching endlessly before me, while Gabriel García Márquez’s ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude’ played through my speakers. The narrator’s voice back then wove magic into the air, much like Bahni Turpin does here. With ‘Darkest Child,’ I felt that same intimacy, as if I were sitting on a weathered porch in Georgia, listening to an elder recount a tale of struggle and resilience. Turpin’s narration captures every nuance of Phillips’ prose, her voice shifting seamlessly between Tangy Mae’s quiet determination and Rozelle’s volatile charisma. You can almost feel the humid air, hear the creak of a sagging floorboard, taste the dust of poverty that clings to every word.
The story itself is a gut punch, exploring themes of colorism, family dysfunction, and the brutal realities of racial segregation in 1958. Tangy Mae, the smartest of her siblings, dreams of an education at an integrated high school – a chance to escape the fate of her sisters, who are pulled from school at twelve to work or worse, to be taken by Rozelle to ‘the farmhouse’ for unthinkable exploitation. Rozelle, their mother, is a character who haunts you long after the audiobook ends. Beautiful, tyrannical, and deeply broken, she rules her children with a mix of love and violence that’s as complex as it is devastating. Phillips crafts a narrative that doesn’t shy away from the harshness of this world, yet she imbues it with a fierce hope through Tangy Mae’s eyes. It’s a powerful piece of historical fiction that lays bare the intersections of race, poverty, and gender in a way that feels both timeless and urgently relevant.
My personal connection to this story deepened as I recalled evenings spent with a family in Oaxaca, where their grandmother spun tales under a starlit sky. Her voice, her pauses, her raw emotion – it was a masterclass in oral storytelling. Bahni Turpin channels that same magic in this audiobook experience. Her performance is nothing short of transformative, giving each character a distinct voice that carries their pain, their dreams, their defiance. Rozelle’s sharp, commanding tone cuts like a knife, while Tangy Mae’s softer, introspective cadence pulls you into her inner world. The audio quality itself is crisp, with no distractions, allowing you to fully immerse yourself in this Georgia landscape. Turpin’s pacing is impeccable, knowing exactly when to linger on a moment of quiet despair or quicken during a burst of Rozelle’s rage. It’s the kind of listening experience that makes you forget you’re in your car or on a morning jog – you’re there, in that ramshackle house, holding your breath alongside Tangy Mae.
As much as I was captivated by this audiobook, I must acknowledge that it’s not for the faint of heart. The themes are heavy – child abuse, sexual exploitation, and the crushing weight of systemic racism are unflinchingly portrayed. There were moments when I had to pause, to let the weight of it settle, much like I’ve had to stop on certain travels to process the raw humanity I’ve witnessed. Yet, this is also where the strength of ‘Darkest Child’ lies. Phillips doesn’t sugarcoat, and Turpin’s narration doesn’t soften the blows. Together, they create a story that demands to be heard, to be felt. One slight limitation, perhaps, is that the sprawling cast of characters – ten siblings, each with their own shades of skin and sorrow – can occasionally feel overwhelming in audio format. A few times, I found myself wishing for a visual family tree to keep track of everyone’s arcs, though Turpin’s distinct voicing helps immensely.
For those who resonate with historical fiction or Black Literature, ‘Darkest Child’ stands shoulder to shoulder with works like Toni Morrison’s ‘The Bluest Eye,’ where colorism and societal rejection carve deep wounds into young lives. It also echoes the family dynamics and survival grit of Zora Neale Hurston’s ‘Their Eyes Were Watching God.’ If you’ve been moved by those stories, this audiobook will find a permanent place in your heart. I’d recommend it to anyone seeking a profound listening experience, particularly those who appreciate narratives that explore the African American experience through a historical lens. It’s ideal for long drives or quiet evenings when you can let the story wash over you, though be prepared to sit with its emotional weight.
Reflecting on this audiobook, I’m reminded why I’m so drawn to stories like these. As a travel writer, I’ve walked through countless communities, each with their own hidden histories of pain and perseverance. ‘Darkest Child’ feels like one of those untold stories I might have heard from a local on a backroad in the South, a reminder of the resilience that blooms even in the harshest soils. It’s a testament to the power of audiobooks to transport us not just to places, but to the very souls of those who inhabit them. Whether you’re new to Black Literature or a seasoned listener of historical fiction, this audiobook offers a journey worth taking.
Until our paths cross again on the road or through the next story, keep listening, keep exploring, and keep connecting with the voices that shape our world. This is Marcus Rivera, signing off with a heart full of stories – see you out there.
