Beyond Katrina
Beyond Katrina: A Meditation on the Mississippi Gulf Coast
NATASHA TRETHEWEY
Copyright Date: 2010
Published by: University of Georgia Press
Pages: 144
https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt46nfkg
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Book Info
Beyond Katrina
Book Description:

Beyond Katrina is poet Natasha Trethewey's very personal profile of the Mississippi Gulf Coast and of the people there whose lives were forever changed by hurricane Katrina. Trethewey spent her childhood in Gulfport, where much of her mother's extended family, including her younger brother, still lives. As she worked to understand the devastation that followed the hurricane, Trethewey found inspiration in Robert Penn Warren's book Segregation: The Inner Conflict in the South, in which he spoke with southerners about race in the wake of the Brown decision, capturing an event of wide impact from multiple points of view. Weaving her own memories with the experiences of family, friends, and neighbors, Trethewey traces the erosion of local culture and the rising economic dependence on tourism and casinos. She chronicles decades of wetland development that exacerbated the destruction and portrays a Gulf Coast whose citizens-particularly African Americans-were on the margins of American life well before the storm hit. Most poignantly, Trethewey illustrates the destruction of the hurricane through the story of her brother's efforts to recover what he lost and his subsequent incarceration. Renowned for writing about the idea of home, Trethewey's attempt to understand and document the damage to Gulfport started as a series of lectures at the University of Virginia that were subsequently published as essays in the Virginia Quarterly Review. For Beyond Katrina, Trethewey has expanded this work into a narrative that incorporates personal letters, poems, and photographs, offering a moving meditation on the love she holds for her childhood home. A Sarah Mills Hodge Fund Publication.

eISBN: 978-0-8203-3752-4
Subjects: History
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Table of Contents
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  1. Front Matter
    Front Matter (pp. i-viii)
  2. Table of Contents
    Table of Contents (pp. ix-x)
  3. List of Illustrations
    List of Illustrations (pp. xi-xiv)
  4. Prologue
    Prologue (pp. 1-2)

    Years ago, when I began thinking I would write poems, I started recording in my journal the images that had stayed with me—even haunted me—from my childhood. Always in that list were images related to storms: my grandmother’s frightened prayers as we moved through the house, rain coming in from the roof; my cousin’s nightmare of the ditch around our house spilling a flood into the yard; the annual footage of Hurricane Camille on television; the kerosene lamps we kept atop the tall bookshelf in the den. Still, a long time passed before I realized what the prominence...

  5. ONE: 2007
    • Theories of Time and Space
      Theories of Time and Space (pp. 5-6)
    • Pilgrim
      Pilgrim (pp. 7-28)

      NEARING MY HOMETOWN I turn west onto Interstate 10, the southernmost coast-to-coast highway in the United States. I’ve driven this road thousands of times, and I know each curve and rise of it as it passes through the northern sections of Biloxi and Gulfport—a course roughly parallel to U.S. Route 90, the beach road, also known as the Jefferson Davis Memorial Highway. It’s five o’clock when I cross into Mississippi, and it seems that the sky darkens almost instantly. In minutes it’s raining—the vestiges of a storm out in the Gulf—and I can barely see the lights...

    • Providence
      Providence (pp. 29-30)
    • Before Katrina
      Before Katrina (pp. 31-52)

      SHIPS ENTERING THE HARBOR at Gulfport, the major crossroads of the Mississippi coast, arrive at the intersection of the beach road, U.S. 90, and U.S. 49—the legendary highway of blues songs—by way of a deep channel that cuts through the brackish waters of the Mississippi Sound. Off the coast, ranging from just a half mile to nearly ten miles out, a series of barrier islands—Cat, Horn, Petit Bois, Deer, and Ship, as well as some long-submerged sand keys—bracket the coastline. I cleave to the window as the plane makes a turn over the water and then...

    • Liturgy
      Liturgy (pp. 53-68)

      THE MORNING AFTER THE STORM, hundreds of live oaks still stood among the rubble along the coast. They held in their branches a car, a boat, pages torn from books, furniture. Some people who managed to climb out of windows had clung to the oaks for survival as the waters rose. These ancient trees, some as many as five hundred years old, remain as monuments not only to the storm but to something beyond Katrina as well—sentries, standing guard, they witness the history of the coast. Stripped of leaves, haggard, twisted, and leaning, the trees suggest a narrative of...

  6. TWO: 2009
    • Congregation
      Congregation (pp. 71-82)
    • High Rollers
      High Rollers (pp. 83-94)

      SOMEWHERE IN THE POST-KATRINA DAMAGE and disarray of my grandmother’s house is a photograph of Joe and me—our arms around each other’s shoulders. We are at a long-gone nightclub in Gulfport, The Terrace Lounge, standing before the photographer’s airbrushed scrim—a border of dice and playing cards around us. Just above our heads the words High Rollers, in cursive, embellished—if I am remembering this right—with tiny starbursts. It is 1992, the year the first casino arrived on the Mississippi Gulf Coast and, with it, a new language meant to invoke images of high-stakes players in exclusive poker...

    • Cycle
      Cycle (pp. 95-116)

      THE FIRST LETTER MY BROTHER WRITES me during his incarceration arrives on August 13, 2008—a week after we bury our grandmother. It comes bearing his name and his inmate number, R0470, along with a warning, stamped in red, that the letter is from an inmate and that the facility—the county jail where he awaits sentencing—is NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT. He is as stoic in the letter as he was at the church the day of our grandmother’s memorial service—I know things are hard right now. It seems like everything comes at one time—and I relive...

    • Redux
      Redux (pp. 117-124)

      SOME THINGS HAVE STAYED with me through all of this and happen in my memory as if they are still occurring—like a story I am rewriting until I get the ending right. I know too that it’s a form of rebuilding.

      The day of my brother’s sentencing, July 14, 2008, is typical for south Mississippi—almost unbearably hot, the air thick with humidity. On the way to the courthouse, I notice a group of convicts in green-and white-striped pants working along the road—picking up trash, mowing the tall grass. Others are helping to spread tar over a patch...

    • Benediction
      Benediction (pp. 125-126)
  7. Acknowledgments
    Acknowledgments (pp. 127-127)
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