payment page
Themes are the fundamental and often universal ideas explored in a literary work.
The Mutability of Identity
Ward’s characters struggle with their senses of self in Sing, Unburied, Sing, as their identities are artificially and irrevocably altered by incarceration, addiction, and racial violence. Jojo wants to be a good brother, a good son, and a good member of his community. He wants very badly to be loved and taken care of, but his neglectful parents don’t give him the affection and stability he needs. Although he feels guilty for it, he’s often compelled to steal and lie in order to keep himself and Kayla warm and fed. Leonie's identity is fragmented by her addiction; she’s one person when she’s sober, and a completely different one when she’s high. She’s haunted by the ghost of her brother, Given, whose company she both fears and craves. She doesn’t know who she is without him, but she can’t bear to release her grief in order to find out.
Richie's struggle for identity is perhaps the most literal. As a child forced into the penal system and murdered at a young age, Richie has lost all ties to community and identity that he might otherwise have had. He wants very badly to feel a sense of belonging, often describing his purpose on Earth as “finding a home.” Just as the system of incarceration in America dehumanizes and anonymizes people, Richie loses his connection to his own history. He doesn’t know who he is because he doesn’t know how he died, so he clings to his love for Pop as the only way forward. This novel examines the idea that identity is not a fixed entity but a fluid construct. Its characters are constantly being reshaped by personal traumas and societal pressures.
Memory as Sanctuary and Prison
Memory acts as a bridge between the past and the present, the living and the dead, and in Sing, Unburied, Sing, that concept is taken literally. Memories of the dead aren’t just thoughts, they’re real, dynamic presences that can affect the world around them. Leonie’s memories of Given haunt her individually. Jojo’s memories of Richie, a person he never knew, point to the collective intergenerational trauma of Black history in the American South. Richie’s memories (or lack of them) highlight the way that the penal system and systemic racism can erase and crush individuality. Memory is more than just a narrative device, though; as well as being a source of grief, it’s also a means of survival and resistance against the erasure of history by racism and hatred.
Pop, who survived the prison system, does the important work of preserving the family's history and the truth about Parchman Farm Penitentiary. He tells these stories to Jojo as a way of drawing closer to him, but also to warn him about the dangers he’ll face from bigots and law enforcement. Leonie's visions of her deceased brother, Given, highlight how personal memories are intertwined with unresolved grief. By clinging to her memories of Given, Leonie can temper the pain of his loss. Although it helps her to see him, it also hurts her; she’s as addicted to Given’s presence as she is to the crack cocaine she can’t give up. Memory both hurts and heals throughout this novel, thematically representing the importance of learning from history even if it’s hard and heartbreaking.
Survival in a Racist, Violent World
Ward’s characters' lives are shaped by the systemic oppression that confines them. In this novel, Mississippi and the country around it isn’t a safe place to live for anyone, but it’s particularly dangerous for Black people of all ages and experiences. Whether it’s the social limitations placed on people of color, the entrapment of a troubled soul on Earth, or the real confines of a prison, Sing, Unburied, Sing is always addressing the fact that racial discrimination endangers—and takes—lives. Although in reality they have rich inner lives, to the outside world of Bois Sauvage, Jojo and his family are confined to roles and realities dictated by the color of their skin. The novel makes this even more evident by juxtaposing two eras: Pop's youth, spent in the brutal confines of Parchman Farm, and Jojo's journey to adulthood in the novel’s chronological present. Both narratives reveal the ways in which Black bodies are policed and punished. Leonie's interracial relationship with Michael is full of love and compassion; however, the way in which they are treated as a result of it also reflects this violence and restriction. Ward does not shy away from depicting the physical and emotional toll of white supremacy, in which Black bodies are not afforded the same value as white ones, and Black pain is publicly dismissed or diminished.
The Past Haunts the Present
In this novel the past is never truly past; as Mam says when she’s telling Jojo what death is like, time is in a sense all happening at once. No one and nothing are ever gone, just changed. Nobody in Jojo’s family passively accepts the presence of the ghosts; Leonie and Jojo struggle throughout the story to understand their pain and help them resolve their lingering troubles. Every character is preoccupied with moments from their past that hurt them, which the author often describes in detail as flashbacks. The narrative structure of the book follows its content, jumping back and forth between then and now to exhibit how thin and permeable the barrier between experience and memory is. The novel suggests that these hauntings of the present by the past, while often painful, are also necessary for confronting the truth. Like the traumatic memories that plague Leonie and Pop, the ghosts can’t be suppressed or dismissed.
