"I AM JAYVYN," a compelling work of Historical African Fiction from Author Peter D. Brown Book Tour with Guest Post & Author Interview

 Synopsis:

Circa 1710: Twelve-year-old Jayvyn’s life is shattered when English slavers raid his peaceful village, killing his father and tearing him from his mother and sister. Surviving the horrors of the Middle Passage alone, he endures two brutal years of ‘seasoning’ on a Barbados sugar plantation before being sold again and transported to South Carolina. There, he is auctioned to a rice plantation owner and forced into a world where love, loss, and cruelty coexist.

Amidst oppression, Jayvyn forms bonds with fellow enslaved Africans as they navigate the brutal realities of colonial America. Over the years, he gains a profound understanding of humanity’s virtues and flaws—even confronting the limits of forgiveness. His journey is a harrowing yet inspiring testament to resilience, faith, and survival, offering readers a deeply immersive and thought-provoking historical narrative.

Excerpt

From Chapter 10 – Training Begins

Jayvyn’s ship arrived in Barbados the day before after making the Middle Passage. Before dawn on the first day, he and others are put to work, all weak and depleted from the harrowing voyage.

 

Jayvyn and the new arrivals stood at the beginning of the clearing, naked and shaved, men and women alike, old and young. The guards began dividing them into smaller groups. The men and larger boys were split into groups of about five each. The women, girls, and smaller boys were similarly grouped. In all, there were five groups—two of the men and three of the others. Jayvyn was included with the men, along with a few other boys around his age.

Each group was then led by a guard, along with some of the Blacks in tan clothing, to a segment of the clearing. One group of men was assigned to the area being cleared, thick with freshly fallen trees. Jayvyn’s group was brought to a place slightly inside of this.

Here they were shown what to do. Gathering some tools, the Blacks in tan clothing demonstrated by digging around stumps, prying rocks out of the ground, and working to remove the undergrowth. As they understood, the new arrivals were put into the mix.

Some joined the group removing stumps and such, while the rest gathered debris and carried it to the edge of the clearing where it was piled with other like debris—rocks with rocks, stumps with stumps, and so forth. Soon, all of the newcomers were working.

Several men stood nearby, white men with rifles along with some of the Black guards. Men carried felled trees to the area for debris. The trees were very large and required chopping into smaller pieces before they could be moved. Still, it took several men to move the large pieces, some stumbling and falling over the rough terrain as they struggled to get them down the hill. Guards stood nearby with sticks, flogging anyone who faltered or didn’t move quickly enough.

Jayvyn saw the women, girls, and smaller boys downslope from him working in the newly tilled ground, making new plantings and tending to ones already started.

All were closely supervised by the guards as well as the established slaves in tan that had been brought to instruct them. If anyone slowed, the established slaves were quick to admonish them, with harsh words and gestures, to work hard and unceasingly.^[*]

Jayvyn carried large bundles of brush, stumps, and rocks to the area for debris. His bare feet occasionally stumbled over sharp objects hidden on the jungle floor, causing him to fall. Each time, he was quickly noticed by a guard, who yelled and approached with his stick.

Jayvyn recovered as fast as he could, but a few times, the guard caught up to him. Jayvyn found himself lying in a fetal position, using his hands and arms to deflect the blows until he was let up to gather his load and resume his work. His body ached from the beatings as well as from the hard, unforgiving work in his depleted condition. Others suffered similarly if they failed to keep up the pace.

Soon, the sun was full in the sky, and the temperatures rose. It was very hot and humid in the jungle. There were many insects as well—stinging, biting insects that hovered around Jayvyn’s eyes and ears, got into his mouth and nostrils, and crawled on his skin as he fought to keep up the work and avoid the guards’ wrath.

At some point, water was brought, and the slaves were made, one at a time, to briefly stop and drink. But the break was only long enough to drink and catch their breath before being put back to work at the same unremitting pace.

Blazing hot sun and humidity caused sweat to pour into his eyes and down his face. Jayvyn felt the sting of his sweat as it passed over his freshly bruised skin, now spotted with a variety of insect bites as well.

His muscles grew numb and quivered under the weight of each new load. The rocks, varying in size, shape, and weight, were difficult to handle. They dug at his fingers and pressed into his groin as he carried them, arms fully extended. The stumps, too, were unruly in the same way, inconsistent in size and shape, and home to a variety of insects.

The dirt from the debris was constantly smeared and pressed into his body. His feet had many fine cuts from the thorns, roots, and rocks he stumbled over. The sloping ground with its uneven surface made things all the harder. It was impossible to predict where his feet would land and what the surface would be like, causing him to continuously trip.

Jayvyn’s naked body became an ever-changing array of dirt, scratches, bruises, and bites—constantly streamed with sweat.

Several of the new arrivals fell unconscious, physically unable to carry on in their condition. They were revived, if possible, with shouting, slaps, and splashes of water. They were either put right back to work, or, if they were truly incapable of continuing with the same task, moved to a lighter task.

Some were taxed beyond their limitations and couldn’t be roused. They were carried out, arms and legs limp, heads hanging, like the slaves thrown to the sharks. Jayvyn briefly wondered what would become of them.

Most stayed with their task throughout the day, only stopping for short intervals to drink water.

Dusk came, and still they worked. It had been at least twelve hours of constant hard labor. Men came with torches and lanterns to light the way, but eventually it became too dark to see well enough, and they stopped and marched back to the stockade.

Light flashed before Jayvyn’s eyes as he walked, barely able to keep moving. He wondered how he was ever able to make it through the day. There were so many moments, from early in the day, when he was certain he wouldn’t be able to last even a minute longer. Yet somehow, he’d endured far more than he ever imagined he could have. He literally felt like a walking dead person.

When they arrived back at the stockade, another tub of the same food was brought. Although it was terrible, the slaves were so depleted they had to eat anything that might give their bodies some of what was required to sustain life.

For the newly arrived slaves, the instinct to survive was all that remained. Any other of life’s impulses were luxuries that simply couldn’t be accessed. Luxuries like conscious thought, feelings, or sensations of any kind were simply beyond their remaining reserves.

Through the haze of his vision, Jayvyn passively noticed the guards eating nearby. He smelled the sweeter, more savory smells of their food but was unable to conjure any emotion about it; it just was.

He saw, too, some of those who’d fallen and been carried out that day. They were sitting against the sides of the stockade—slumped, nearly lifeless, faces slack, eyes vacant—much as the sick boys on the ship.

There wasn’t much commotion in the stockade that night. Only occasional whimpers or groans of intense discomfort—subtle sounds of shifting—worn, depleted bodies seeking positions causing the least amount of pain—until unconsciousness mercifully overcame them. Jayvyn soon followed.

The sudden, jarring foot in his side came as a brutal intrusion to the barest beginnings of much-needed rest. Jayvyn’s bloodshot eyes snapped open in the darkness. He lay bewildered by his surroundings, fighting for some kind of explanation for where he was and what he saw. Lanterns and torches flickered outside the door. Others, sleep suddenly shattered, blinked in confusion as they, too, struggled to come to terms with reality.

The guards came with more of the awful food.

It was difficult to function at all. Sleep couldn’t have been more than a few hours at best.

With great difficulty, Jayvyn ate, drank some water, and got painfully to his feet. Every part of his body was sore as he rose unsteadily. He was quickly reminded of the cuts and bruises on the bottoms of his feet.

They were given a few moments to urinate or defecate, if they could, but soon they found themselves walking out the same trail they’d left only hours ago.

Jayvyn’s head still buzzed with the remnants of his short sleep.

Moments later he found himself back at the same task he’d barely survived the day before. It was still dark, but the sky above the trees was beginning to show the first light of dawn.

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[*] It was the responsibility of those training the new slaves to instill the work ethic that would be required of them

Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/iamjayvyn1

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/221912848-i-am-jayvyn

“Powerful historical fiction skewering slavery's evils.” – Booklife

Author bio:

Peter D. Brown is a historical fiction writer passionate about preserving history and shedding light on overlooked stories. Aware of his position as a white author writing about the African American experience, Peter approaches this work with deep respect, rigorous research, and a commitment to accuracy. His storytelling challenges readers to confront uncomfortable truths while exploring themes of resilience, justice, and the human condition.

 

Website: https://peter-d-brown.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61567491361853

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/maine_author/

Inspiration for writing I AM JAYVYN

 Writing I AM JAYVYN was solely inspired by the announcement by Florida’s Board of Education that they were changing their standards for teaching certain subjects in school, most notably Black history and the history of slavery in America. The changes were implemented to present a ‘more balanced’ view and to include such things as teaching how Blacks benefited from the experience of slavery and alleging that they were complicit in acts of violence directed against them.

I wasn’t an expert on the subject, but knew enough to know that slavery was a cruel and unjust practice by any standard. I wanted to know more.

I wasn’t prepared for how terrible it really was. The deeper I went into my research, the more shocked and saddened I became that any human being would ever be put through such a terrible and cruel experience, let alone some twelve million! More research revealed that this was only a fraction of the victims. Twelve million only describes the number to be taken live into the transatlantic slave trade. It doesn’t account for how many millions died before ever reaching the ships. It further doesn’t account for the generations that remained enslaved once they crossed the Atlantic. It is only an estimate of the number taken on the ships. Of that twelve million, historians estimate that over two million died on the passage alone. Again, this doesn’t account for the deaths during ‘seasoning’ in Barbados, or on plantations elsewhere for many generations.

As well, I was unprepared for the barbarity and outright cruelty of the methods used. I was further shocked to realize many of these methods were actually written into law.

What became clear, is that Africans suffered far too much to have their history tampered with. I came to understand how necessary this history is for all citizens of America to learn, accept, and embrace if we are to become a better society. I also contemplated the persistent nature of racism in America, and came to understand that the legacy of slavery has never really left our society. It has become systemically embedded into our cultural norms and institutions, as evidenced by the long-lasting Jim Crow period and the need for comprehensive civil rights legislation.

Soon after I decided to write this novel, Gov. Ron DeSantis of Florida declared that the topic of Critical Race Theory would be banned in all learning institutions in Florida. This is the theory that racism is embedded in our society and its institutions. It can’t be banned; it is a fact that’s plain for anyone to see.

Florida's not alone either. 18 US states now have active laws regulating or prohibiting discussions about racism throughout our history, and 5 more states have similar legislation pending.

By the time I finished the book, the attacks on history and civil rights had escalated exponentially. America is caught up in an active battle today over whether it accepts or attempts to rewrite the reality of its past. I feel my book is timelier than ever. It’s time we fully embrace and honor the truth.

 How writing about the slave experience changed my world

 It wasn’t until the book came out that I was confronted with the dynamics associated with being a white person writing about Black history.

It’s no accident here that white is not capitalized while Black is. This, I discovered, is accepted convention among those who choose to write about Black culture. It’s appropriate. The Black community has unique attributes because of the history of slavery that should be recognized and honored. As a group, whites have never suffered any form of oppression and therefore have no such distinction. Having now discovered the extent to which this makes the descendants of slavery unique, I will forever capitalize Black to express my respect when referring to this segment of humanity. Their uniqueness is further amplified by US history following the Civil War and the disgrace of the so-called ‘Jim Crow’ era.

Since publishing the book, I have spent many hours in deep reflection about the possible issues of a white person writing about Black history. My heart tells me that it shouldn’t matter if the purpose is to defend their history and rally for the equality of all persons regardless of color. But it does. The issues go much deeper. There is no equating white experience with that of Blacks. No white person has ever, or will ever, truly know and appreciate Black history in the same way as one from the Black community. No white person has lived through that history as a Black person has.

My book is published, but I’ve appended it with an apology and a plea for understanding. Still, in my own heart, this isn’t enough. There is no act or resolution that can erase the truth of history or the damage caused. So, it is only with the greatest humility and respect that I submit my work and hope it will be received as I intended.

My world has been changed in this way: I now see color differently, I see it with stark clarity, in high contrast, and understand that it comes with a story—one I must never pretend to know—a story that can only come from the heart and soul of those to whom it belongs.

Also, if I started my project with a desire to preserve the truth of history, I finished it with a sense for how vital unadulterated history is to the very advancement and survival of humanity.

Author Q&A

 On writing:

 How did you do research for your book?

The research for this book was profound.

Information about the origins and traditions of various African Tribes as well as information about the geography, fauna, flora, and other facts about The Gambia came from a wide range of resources based in Africa.

Information about the transatlantic slave trade was largely gathered from libraries and museums in Liverpool, Oxford, and London.

Resources from Barbados provided a plethora of information about sugar plantations, and the Library of Congress as well as many US universities were the source for the development of Colonial America, the evolution of slave codes and legislation, and what life was like in those times.

And there were many more, too many to list.

 Which was the hardest character to write? The easiest?

I think the hardest character was Baahir. Due to language and cultural barriers, he had to remain somewhat of an enigma, but at the same time, he had to develop a strong relationship with Jayvyn and play a significant role in the story. He was an essential bridge to understanding and accepting diversity.

Jayvyn was the easiest because he was the main character and there were constant opportunities for him to express himself and allow us to get to know him better as the book progressed; although he is complex as well.

 In your book you make a reference to the differences in spiritual values. How did you come up with this idea? Why was this important to the book?

All cultures have some kind of connection to their spiritual beliefs. Historically, differences in these beliefs have formed the basis for serious conflict. Many, like myself, believe that all mankind shares the same basic need for spiritual connection. At the root of things, we all pursue this for the same reason, we just define and express it differently. I thought it was a good thread to exploit and try to distill throughout the book to demonstrate that, although we think it is something that makes us different, it really ends up being a beautiful characteristic that makes us all the same.

If we can accept that, maybe we are one step closer to seeing beyond the barriers of culture, language, and skin color.

 Where did you get the inspiration for this book?

The initial impetus came when the FL Board of Education announced it was making changes to its standards for teaching about slavery and Black history in America. The changes were designed to present a ‘more balanced’ and palatable version of history—but that’s not accurate. I have since learned that 18 states have laws prohibiting such discussions in schools, and 5 more have similar legislation pending.

I saw these things as threats to both the validity and importance of African American History as well as the fundamentals of civil rights. It’s also unfair to students of any color to whitewash and distort what they’re being taught.

My answer was to research and write about what the experience of slavery was really like and try to deliver that through the eyes and experiences of its victims.

 There are many books out there about racial strife. What makes yours different?

There are many good books dealing with the issue of race inequality. It has a long history, and there are many ways to write about it. My book deals with events at their origin in America. There haven’t been as many recent books devoted to this period, so maybe that makes mine different in some respects. Also, I couch the book specifically within the context of the hot societal controversy today. That might be the most distinctive attribute.

 What advice would you give budding writers?

When an idea moves you, write about it. Don’t wait for the idea to develop, don’t wait for the details to materialize, or it will be gone. If it moves you, don’t wait until you’re in the right place, find something, anything, to write on and start writing. You don’t have to finish it; you only have to start. The rest will come later.

 Your book is set in Africa, Barbados, and Charleston, SC. Have you ever been there?

I’ve been to Barbados and South Carolina. I have not been to Africa, but would love to go someday. It is a vast continent with many diverse countries, all with widely differing characters. My daughter spent 2 years with the Peace Corp in Mozambique and gave some idea, at least of that country.

 In your book you state that critical race theory is real. Why is that?

Our country was founded in racism. After abolition, that legacy continued and was perpetuated by Jim Crow laws which lasted until 1964. Critical Race Theory merely states that racism is systemically embedded into our social institutions and norms. Given our history, how could it not be?

 Why is your book important to today’s society?

Because the attacks to our code of civil rights have escalated in recent years. Rewriting the facts of history has become more commonplace, and forms the bedrock for failing to understand the realities of our past.

Examples are profound and unabashed, including recent abolishment of DEI initiatives. Additional threats have been made to specific tenets in the 14^th and 15^th amendments, enacted following the Civil War specifically to guarantee rights and equal protection under the law for all American citizens, regardless of color or ethnicity.

What is at stake are the covenants that bound our citizens together following the Civil War. They form the pillars of our democracy. If they fail, our entire society is at risk of failing.

What genre do you write and why?

I write historical fiction. I might qualify this by saying that I write about matters of importance and consequence as they relate to social justice. Since history forms the basis for how our society developed, it provides all the information for understanding its strengths and shortcomings. Historical fiction is a useful genre for delivering this information.

 What is the last great book you’ve read?

Caste: The Origins of our Discontent, by Isabel Wilkerson. I can’t recommend it highly enough to anyone who wants to understand why society is so divided by class, and how that ends up manifesting itself as racism.

 What is a favorite compliment you have received on your writing?

A reader called me one morning to express the range of emotions she experienced as she sat late into the night turning the pages of my book. She told me that although the book moved her to tears at times, there was a deeper emotion of love that continually grew as my character’s story was told. When she finished, she said she had a feeling of elation, like a weight, or veil, had been lifted. She attributed this to empathy and a clearer understanding of what slavery meant to its victims. It told me that the book had achieved its goal.

 What were the biggest rewards and challenges with writing your book?

The rewards are, hands down, knowing the book’s had a positive impact on preserving the truth of African American history and the terribleness of slavery and the damage it caused. The challenges are getting it into enough hands to make a difference.

 Which authors inspire you?

There are so many, it’s hard to really list them, but one I’ve enjoyed a lot is Erik Larsen. He has a great way of presenting interesting and impactful historical moments that not only keeps you reading, but contemplating the stories told for a long time afterward. I highly recommend any of his books.

 

On rituals:

 Where do you write?

I have an office in my home on the second floor. It’s very quiet. The desk is facing a window that looks out over the pasture, with a tree line not too far away. Hawks occasionally glide by at about eye level. It’s not distracting, but delivers many calming interludes for thoughtful reflection—very important to my writing.

 Do you write every day?

Usually there is at least one or two times a day when I’ll sit down and scratch out a few words. If I get in a groove, it could be the whole day. But perhaps more importantly, I read—a whole lot. Don’t ever underestimate that part.

 Is there a specific ritualistic thing you do during your writing time?

Not in particular, but having plenty of unobstructed headspace is important, so if it's not there, I’ll take a walk, or do something else to help restore that before I try. Also, a little deep breathing is good. Usually, before I attack the keyboard, I’ll just sit for a few minutes to become centered. Also, reading a good chunk of whatever I last wrote is really important to do before plowing ahead into new territory.

 In today’s tech savvy world, most writers use a computer or laptop. Have you ever written parts of your book on paper?

Paper is very important for taking certain notes in the moment, to keep character references handy, places, timelines, etc. There’s always a pad, or two, or three, on the desk in front of the computer screen. It gets messy, but it’s how I do it.

 Fun stuff:

 If you could go back in time, where would you go?

I’d go back to my childhood and use the knowledge I have now to do some things differently. Like, there’s a tree fort I’d finish with a better roof. I’d also put a better chair and table in it, maybe a stereo, too.

 If you were stuck on a deserted island, which 3 books would you want with you?

That’s a tough question because if I chose them now, I’d want to read them now, and if I were stuck on a deserted island, I’d want books I’ve never read.

But they’d have to be good, long books that I never wanted to end. At least until the day I’m rescued! Then I’d write a book about that!

 What’s the funniest thing that ever happened to you?

When I was a kid, mine and a friend’s family rented a cottage on an island in Maine. It was raised on short stilts above the ground. My dog got sprayed by a skunk and hid under the porch and stunk up the whole house during the adult’s cocktail hour. My dad went berserk. I had to fish her out of there and give her a tomato juice bath down by the ocean. I remember laughing about that as I cleaned her up. What a great dog!

 What’s the most courageous thing you’ve ever done?

One time sailing with my young family off the coast of Maine, an unexpected storm came in off the sea and caught us. The waves were gigantic and the winds were fierce. My wife was terrified, and our kids were small. It was too rough to use the engine, and we were about 12 hours from port. We had no choice but to sail in it. It took all my skills to manage the boat safely under sail, I was never so glad to make it home safely and get my family safely back ashore.

 Any hobbies?

Woodworking. I have a shop that I consider my temple. It is the place I go to get lost in creative projects I can see and touch. It’s marvelously therapeutic.

 If there is one thing you want readers to remember about you, what would it be?

My concern for and commitment to social justice.

 What TV series are you currently binge watching?

One Hundred Years of Solitude. It’s surprisingly well done, based on the novel by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1982.

 What is your go-to breakfast item?

An over easy egg on toast smeared with olive oil and chili crisp and a cup of dark roast coffee.

 What is the strangest way you've become friends with someone?

My wife is my older sister’s best friend. During our childhood years, I was the pesky little brother and she was just an annoying girl. We grew up and each had marriages that ultimately failed. It was only after 40 years that we realized we were hopelessly in love. We got married and have been inseparable best friends ever since.

 Who was your childhood celebrity crush?

I thought Goldie Hawn was a knock out after age eight. Before then it was Shari Lewis, and Lambchop, too.

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