Though Solomon’s tone is somewhat detached and his writing style quite formal, the mood of the book is consistently disturbing and devastating. Even when Solomon writes about horrifying events in an unemotional manner, readers can feel the trauma. One such example happens in Chapter 13, when Epps drunkenly wakes up all of the people he enslaves and forces them to dance (referring to them with derogatory language in the process):
Usually his whip was in his hand, ready to fall about the ears of the presumptuous thrall, who dared to rest a moment, or even stop to catch his breath. When he was himself exhausted, there would be a brief cessation, but it would be very brief. With a slash, and crack, and flourish of the whip, he would shout again, “Dance, niggers, dance,” and away they would go once more, pell-mell, while I spurred by an occasional sharp touch of the lash, sat in a corner, extracting from my violin a marvelous quick-stepping tune.
Instead of noting how agonizing or dehumanizing this experience was, Solomon merely represents it literally. He even describes the song he is playing on the violin as “a marvelous quick-stepping tune.” Despite all of this, readers can still feel the full weight of Epps’s cruelty. Solomon’s detached narration even adds to the unsettling, eerie mood, communicating to readers that this was nowhere near the worst of what he went through during the harrowing 12 years he was enslaved.
The most significant mood shift in 12 Years a Slave comes at the end of the book, when Solomon is reunited with his family. By Chapter 22, readers are allowed to finally feel hopeful alongside Solomon:
When the violence of our emotions had subsided to a sacred joy—when the household gathered round the fire, that sent out its warm and crackling comfort through the room, we conversed of the thousand events that had occurred—the hopes and fears, the joys and sorrows, the trials and troubles we had each experienced during the long separation.
The “sacred joy” Solomon feels here is palpable—readers feel they are also sitting at the “warm and cackling fire” with Solomon and his family and can feel the full relief of freedom.
Though Solomon’s tone is somewhat detached and his writing style quite formal, the mood of the book is consistently disturbing and devastating. Even when Solomon writes about horrifying events in an unemotional manner, readers can feel the trauma. One such example happens in Chapter 13, when Epps drunkenly wakes up all of the people he enslaves and forces them to dance (referring to them with derogatory language in the process):
Usually his whip was in his hand, ready to fall about the ears of the presumptuous thrall, who dared to rest a moment, or even stop to catch his breath. When he was himself exhausted, there would be a brief cessation, but it would be very brief. With a slash, and crack, and flourish of the whip, he would shout again, “Dance, niggers, dance,” and away they would go once more, pell-mell, while I spurred by an occasional sharp touch of the lash, sat in a corner, extracting from my violin a marvelous quick-stepping tune.
Instead of noting how agonizing or dehumanizing this experience was, Solomon merely represents it literally. He even describes the song he is playing on the violin as “a marvelous quick-stepping tune.” Despite all of this, readers can still feel the full weight of Epps’s cruelty. Solomon’s detached narration even adds to the unsettling, eerie mood, communicating to readers that this was nowhere near the worst of what he went through during the harrowing 12 years he was enslaved.
The most significant mood shift in 12 Years a Slave comes at the end of the book, when Solomon is reunited with his family. By Chapter 22, readers are allowed to finally feel hopeful alongside Solomon:
When the violence of our emotions had subsided to a sacred joy—when the household gathered round the fire, that sent out its warm and crackling comfort through the room, we conversed of the thousand events that had occurred—the hopes and fears, the joys and sorrows, the trials and troubles we had each experienced during the long separation.
The “sacred joy” Solomon feels here is palpable—readers feel they are also sitting at the “warm and cackling fire” with Solomon and his family and can feel the full relief of freedom.
