I was kind of late in starting the Equiano reading, but as I was reading through the chapters, especially the first two or three, it felt more like an ethnography from an anthropologist, rather than some exciting narrative/autobiography-that-isn't-really-autobiographical (assuming he wasn't originally from Africa). The whole thing seemed too structured, too matter-of-fact-ly. Plus, assuming he was born in Africa like he supposedly said he was, his English seemed incredibly immaculate. The whole thing gave off a sense of being very objective and scientific... well, as scientific-ly sounding as anthropology can get.

So he's not really African born...? So he really didn't experience his sister getting torn from his arms, he didn't really suffer the exchange from one master to the next? Then it just makes his whole story seem even MORE objective. Keeping his origin in mind, I couldn't get a sense of truth behind his supposed emotions, his gaining and losing of friendships, his dumbstruck fear of a painting that seemed to always watch him, his paranoia of being eaten by the white folks. It seemed to kind of mock the trials and tribulations of the slaves that were pillaged from their villages and put to agonizing work against their will. Yes, his descriptions of the treatment of slaves was horrific, and yes, it was shocking, but it was more like from the eyes of a witness rather than a participator. I just didn't get a sense of legitimacy, and it's probably because an autobiography that isn't autobiographical just loses its credibility with me.

I TOTALLY don't mean that the whole slavery ordeal is nonsensical. I just feel like his story was falsely advertised.