Colonial Connections in Saving Savannah
Tonya Bolden’s YA novel, Saving Savannah, is set at the end of WWI. It’s a meticulously documented novel, the story of 17-year-old Savannah Riddle who finds herself rebelling against the elite Black Washington DC society of her parents. In doing so, she forges a connection with Nella, the family’s cleaning lady’s daughter, and with Nella’s cousin Lloyd. Through them and through her own dawning consciousness, she becomes aware of social changes brewing around her—the fight for women’s suffrage, the New Negro movement, the struggles of workers. Bolden creates depth and layers in the history of the period through her young protagonist’s expanding world.
I really appreciated the wide worldview in this book, casting a light on the global links between people seeking freedom. Here’s Hubert Henry Harrison speaking of the power differential placing ships, guns, soldiers, and money at the disposal of white nations:
“By virtue of this control, England rules and robs India, Egypt, Africa, and the West Indies. By virtue of this control, the United States can tell Haitians, Hawaiians, and Filipinos how much they shall get for their labor and what shall be done in their lands. By virtue of this control, Belgium can still say to the Congolese whether they shall have their hands hacked off or their eyes gouged out.”
It’s a brilliantly succinct summation of the colonial era. The choice to place it here, as a means of opening Savannah’s eyes, is both empowering to young readers and respectful of their intelligence.
And here’s Savannah reflecting on how her mother started with nothing, and might ask her if she’d rather “live in a shack with an outhouse out back?”
“No, I would not! Savannah thought one day en route to old man Boudinot’s, a place she frequented often, scanning the shelves for books about Africa, the West Indies, India, ordering titles the squirrelly old man thought she might like, plucking from a shelf, now and then, a book that quietly beckoned. The Heart of a Woman, a slim volume of verse, was one. “The author, Georgia Douglas Johnson, she’s local, you know,” said old man Boudinot as Savannah handed him four Walking Liberties. “Lives over on South Street,” he added.”
These are narrative choices that lead the mind from local to global and back again, looking for connections.
There is one little aside in this story that I’m betting no reviews are going to pick up on—it’s in this scene of Savannah at the Sanderson fete, in the music that adds a period touch:
“When the Duke’s Serenaders, dressed to the nines, launched into a toe-tapping rendition of ‘Hindustan’, Savannah found herself softly singing. Maybe she’d find renewal in the night after all”.
What makes this choice so intriguing is that the song itself is a work of total exoticism, camel trappings, harp strings, temple bells and all. It was inspired by a world in which Europeans occupied other people’s countries, imitated local royalty and turned commoners into servants. And yet over time, the tune became a classic and in the process shed its Orientalist origins. Music can do that. Somehow, this tune in this book, in this scene, evokes a kind of irony, whether that is intended or not.
I should add that this is a marvellously researched novel, so I wouldn't be surprised to find out that Bolden featured the tune purposefully, adding an additional layer of ambiguity and connection to the world she brings so vividly to life. If not, it’s still a thing of wonder when readers find meaning in a book that the author may not have intended to plant there.
