Jesmyn Ward’s heart-wrenching new memoir, “Men We Reaped,” is a brilliant book about beauty and death. The beauty is in the bodies and the voices of the young men she grew up with in the towns of coastal Mississippi, where a kind of de facto segregation persists.
There is C.J. Martin, one of her many cousins. “He was small and lean, angled all over with muscle,” writes Ward. “His face was shaped like a triangle, and the only things that were dark about him were his eyes, which were so deep in color they were a surprise.”
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Men We Reaped