My first thought in finishing The Prophets by Robert Jones, Jr. is that I wish I had a literary guide or accompaniment of this novel while reading. The writing and story-telling are rich and complex; I know I didn’t understand all the nuance, references, and literary techniques. That is my own shortcoming— NOT the novel or the author’s.

The Prophets focuses on Samuel and Isaiah, two slaves on the Halifax plantation (Empty) in Mississippi. These two men love one another and find refuge and purpose in their love. But from the pair’s peace comes others’ (Amos’) betrayal disguised as… protection? What was once between Samuel and Isaiah becomes a point of contention that then expands to consume Empty.

This novel also interweaves stories of other slaves, primarily the women— Maggie, Puah, Sarah, Essie— the Halifax family, and the ancestors.

In reading other reviews, the complexity of the writing style was a common gripe. While I agree with that challenge, I am more so falling on the side of recognizing The Prophets for its exploration of the “quiet, revolutionary power of love.” -National Book Award judge’s citation.

Men and toubab shared far more than either would ever admit. Just ask anyone who had ever been at their mercy. They both took what they wanted; asking was never a courtesy. Both smiled first, but pain always followed.

 The Prophets is a novel that takes some time to get into. As with many books about slavery, it is a distressing and uncomfortable read. We follow the occupants of a cotton plantation known as Empty as desperation leads one man to Christ and the rest to destruction. Wanting nothing more than to have his sort-of wife be excused from the forced inseminations, Amos decides to appease the plantation owner by turning to Christianity and spreading it amongst the other slaves, grasping particularly onto the "sins" he perceives are being committed by Isaiah and Samuel in the privacy of their barn. Though the duo is known for their hard work and kind natures, being the only men in Empty who don't participate in the forced rape of slave women at their master's command, it isn't long before the members of the community turn on them, just so they can have someone to look down upon.

This is a difficult story to put into words. It is equal parts fascinating and horrifying, beautiful and hideous. The way it delves into generational trauma and blood memory is fascinating. Jones did such an incredible job of fleshing out these characters within their limited amount of designated pages and completing the story so that it circles back in on itself. This is the sort of novel that makes you really think. I've heard it's the kind of story that, if you explore it a second time, you discover was deeper and more detailed than you originally imagined.

But, while this is a story of race and racism, I think that it is also a story of power and misogyny. Like the steps of a ladder: White over black and men over women. As you go down the rungs of the ladder, though, who has the least amount of power: Black women ... or black men who do not obey the "rules" of manhood? And why and by who was it decided that the thing that made these two boys lesser was the fact that they alone never laid a single hand upon anyone unwilling to be touched? 

I can see why Jones has been compared to Toni Morrison. His writing has a similar lyrical quality and like Morrison, there’s a lot of depth beyond the words on the page. Like Beloved, there is a vague otherworldly feeling in The Prophets. The story is real and painful, but there’s a feeling of magic to it as well. But comparisons aside, Jones’ voice is solidly his own. And he has a lot to say (give him a follow @thesonofbaldwin for proof). 

It took me a long time to get through this book. Not because I wasn’t invested, but rather because it isn’t one that can be read casually. I couldn’t pick it up after a long stressful day, because I was unable to give it the attention it required. Jones’ writing is dense and complex and requires focus. 

This is a tough read. Jones doesn’t shy away from the brutality of slavery. He inspects the generational trauma of the slave trade and colonialism. But he also does something quite lovely. He puts forth a depiction of queerness that is the so natural, so pure, that it feels impossible that we should ever have thought queerness wrong or different. 

While the narrative builds slowly, by the final third of the book I couldn’t put it down. 

Such a beautifully written book. It can be a little hard to follow if you don’t have your full attention on it, but it’s such a heartbreaking, worthy read