





































In 2013, director Steve McQueen re-
leased 12 Years a Slave, his film adap-

tation of Solomon Northup’s 19th cen-
tury slave narrative of the same name. 
However, in spite of overwhelming 
public response and widespread critical 
acclaim, currently the film has received 
very little attention within academia, and 
has yet to be made a significant subject 
of critical scholarship and discussion. In 
response, this collection addresses what 
the authors view as a critical lack of con-
textualization of the film within a larger 
body of theory and critical analysis. 

Interpreting McQueen’s film within 
analytic frameworks including compar-
ative slavery studies, trauma studies, 
feminist theory, film theory, and the 
rhetoric of visual cultures, the authors 
create a wide range of analyses that 
address several critical questions. In 
the article “Violent Instability: Images 
of the Violence of Slavery in 12 Years a 
Slave and Visual Cultures,” author Esther 
Wolfe examines the inherent ambiguity 
of McQueen’s realist style, contextualiz-
ing this ambiguity within a larger critical 
discussion of the instability of images of 
slavery in visual culture and its relation 
to the paradox of bearing witness to 
atrocity. Deepening this conversation on 
images of the violence of slavery, author 
Kathryn Hampshire, in “On Cinema-
tography and Discomfort in 12 Years a 

A Critical Introduction to 
12 Years a Slave

 Kathryn Hampshire, Bryce Longenberger, Ramona Simmons, and 
Esther Wolfe, Ball State University

Key Words:
12 Years a Slave, Steve McQueen, slavery, 
violence, visual culture, cinematography, 
mistresses, suicide

Abstract:
In this critical anthology of essays, the au-
thors examine Steve McQueen’s 12 Years a 
Slave from a variety of analytic frameworks, 
including feminist theory, trauma studies, 
film theory, and deconstruction. The au-
thors explore critical questions concerning 
the politics of representing trauma and 
violence, the politics of slave suicide, and 
the intersections of race and gender in the 
experiences of slave women.

15

Digital Literature Review, vol. 2 (2015). © Ball State University. All Rights Reserved.
Please direct all requests for permission to photocopy or reproduce critical edition to dlr@bsu.edu. 

“Violent Instability”: Images of the  
Violence of Slavery in 12 Years a Slave 
and Visual Culture
Esther Wolfe

On Cinematography and Discomfort in 12 
Years a Slave 
Kathryn Hampshire

Scoured Souls: The Imbalance between 
Mistresses and Female Slaves 
Ramona Simmons

The Inability to Commit Suicide: An Analysis 
of Steve McQueen’s 12 Years a Slave
Bryce Longenberger

17

22

27

31

Table of Contents



Slave,” analyzes McQueen’s film in the context of its cinematography, examining the political 
power of discomfort brought about by the lingering cinematic gaze. The last two articles in this 
collection focus this discussion of violence further by unpacking specific dynamics of slave 
experiences. In “Scoured Souls: The Imbalance between Mistresses and Female Slaves,” author 
Ramona Simmons interprets the film within the context of gender power and feminist analysis, 
examining the relative positions of female slave and plantation wife within interconnected sys-
tems of slavery and patriarchal oppressions. Finally, specifying this context of gender violence, 
in “The Inability of Committing Suicide: An Analysis of Steve McQueen’s 12 Years a Slave,” 
author Bryce Longenberger examines the nature of suicide within slave systems, exploring in-
terpretations of suicide as resistance and degradation from the position of Patsey. In presenting 
this collection, the authors hope to break important analytic ground, contributing to the cur-
rent body of critical work while opening up space for continued study. It is also the hope of the 
authors that analysis of McQueen’s film will bring to bear the ways in which the issues raised in 
this collection continue to be present and relevant in our contemporary world—in the forms 
of modern slave systems and interconnected legacies of racist violence and oppression.

16 Hampshire, Longenberger, Simmons, and Wolfe



“Violent Instability”: Images of the Violence of 
Slavery in 12 Years a Slave and Visual Culture

Esther Wolfe

Of the critical conversations surrounding Steve McQueen’s 12 Years a Slave, perhaps the 
most pervasive revolves around the film’s realism, specifically its realistic portrayal of the 
violence and trauma of slavery and the image of the tortured slave body. Using his trademark 
realist cinematographic style, McQueen creates prolonged, unflinching images of slave torture 
and suffering, lingering on graphic scenes of brutality, including whipping, hanging, beatings, 
and rape. Realist cinematography, by attempting to replicate and recreate the real, can be seen 
as an attempt to create a pure representation of experience, to bypass instability and get outside 
interpretation. However, realist images also contain an imbedded ambiguity at the very site of 
their realism. In replicating and recreating the real, realist images are framed constantly by what 
they are not; they are defined continuously and simultaneously by what is not there and could 
not be represented. Realism, it would appear, cannot get around this fundamental split. In this 
way, by representing the real, by recreating experience in order to capture meaning, what is 
instead represented is the very politics of “seeing” itself.

The paradoxical ambiguity of realism has specific implications with regards to McQueen’s 
realist images, and to the visual representation of slavery. What does it mean, then, to portray 
slavery “realistically,” and how can we locate this representation? By confronting the viewer 
with the image of the tortured slave body, by attempting to recreate the violence and trauma of 
slavery, McQueen’s images occupy a fundamental split. Framed constantly by what is not there, 
by what can never be represented, McQueen’s images perform the politics of “seeing,” the 
instability of representation, and the impossibility of recreating the historical trauma and lived 
experience of slavery.

This inherent ambiguity, the instability and impossibility of McQueen’s images paradoxically 
imbedded at the very site of realism, is performed and in a sense “played out” by the critical 
response to the film. Response to the film’s realist images of slave suffering and torture, of the 
violence and trauma of slavery, has elicited a competing discourse. Although the film’s depic-
tion of the violence and trauma of slavery has prompted widespread and important dialogue, 
individual critical conversations have been largely devoted to an implicit project of resolving 
these images, of framing and containing them by arguing for and against what they are believed 
to engage. As a result, little has been done to examine the politics and implications of this am-
biguity itself, and what it might perform. In fact, in the very act of attempting to resolve the am-
biguity of McQueen’s images, this competing discourse strangely repeats and performs the very 
paradox of realism itself. By attempting to capture meaning and exclude other interpretations, 
these discourses must constantly frame and define themselves based on what is inherently not 
there, against the very ambiguity they mean to exclude. In this way, the discourse surrounding 
McQueen’s realist images of the trauma and violence of slavery perform a fundamental split 
that continuously reflects and implicates the images themselves.

This analysis contextualizes the paradoxical instability of McQueen’s realist images of the 
trauma and violence of slavery and the discourse that surrounds them within a larger lineage of 
the history and politics imbedded in the depiction of slavery within visual culture. Taking the 

17 Wolfe



ambiguity of McQueen’s realist depiction as its own political site, where the audience is con-
fronted simultaneously with the violence of slavery as well as with the inherent impossibility 
of its representation, this analysis probes the ways in which McQueen’s realist images actively 
resist and exceed the historical frame, getting at fundamental questions of trauma and repre-
sentation in relation to the violence and collective memory of slavery. 

Much theoretical work has been devoted to the visual representation of the transatlantic 
slave trade, particularly to images of the tortured slave body. Several questions are of critical 
concern to theorists who study these representations, among them, how can we orient and 
understand depictions of slavery in visual culture? How do we “read” images of slavery? What 
implications do these readings have on whether the memory of slavery can ever be excavated 
and represented? These difficult questions have prompted a range of critical interpretations of 
images of slavery in visual culture, a discourse that is directly engaged by the critical response 
to McQueen’s film.

In one framing of this discourse, scholars of comparative slavery and visual culture have 
argued that graphic depictions of slave torture and abuse challenge and interrogate persuasive, 
insidious histories of the romanticization of slavery via the production and consumption of 
images, particularly the image of the “happy slave” and the “good master.” Part of the “Western 
myths devoted to the memory of slavery,” these romanticized images are indicative of a pro-
found inability within European and North American cultural consciousness to cope with the 
memory of slavery and its place within the national imaginary, instead subjecting it to further 
management and containment through appropriation and erasure. As a result, argues Natalie 
Zemon Davis, non-romanticized depictions of slavery in visual culture, particularly images of 
the suffering, tortured slave body, “can bring to life a person on the boundaries of historical 
possibility” (136). In this vein, graphic images of slavery can be read as an important form of 
resistance and counter-speech to violent modes of erasure through romanticized cultural and 
visual production. 

This reading of images of the tortured slave body as resistant and confronting is echoed 
in Kendra James’s review of McQueen’s 12 Years a Slave, published in the online blog Ra-
cialicious. In her review, James argues that the film’s depiction of violence, particularly its 
depictions of slave tortures such as rape, beatings, lynching and whipping, is “necessary” in 
order to confront the viewer with the reality of slavery; to facilitate a “looking at the truth of 
our own past.” According to James, the images of violence and slave torture in McQueen’s 12 
Years a Slave “do not assuage the viewer’s sense of comfort. Bluntly, this was not made taking 
the sensibilities of a white American audience into consideration.” In this way, by reading 
McQueen’s images as a political departure from palatability that confronts viewers with the 
reality of slavery, James’s review implicitly engages a larger discourse on images of slavery in 
visual culture, in which images of slave torture are interpreted as a form of political resistance 
to romanticization and erasure. 

This critical framing is further expanded by scholars who work the intersections of trauma 
studies and image culture. Exploring the relationship between trauma and visual media, schol-
ars have argued that the inherent nature of film itself creates a particularly effective medium for 
representing the individual, lived experience and transhistorical trauma of slavery. According 
to trauma studies scholars, film becomes an effective means of representation because the me-
dium performs and mimics the metaphysical experience of trauma. According to Fryd, “video 
is an appropriate medium…for it easily conveys fragmentary images and narratives, fantasy, 

18 Wolfe



and unspeakable acts” (148). The inherent estrangement and strangeness of film as media, the 
dissociation between subject and image, its imbedded discontinuity and nonlinearity, embod-
ies “the trauma victim’s sense of disruption in lived experience and psychic coherence” (Fryd, 
148). In this way, graphic images of slavery can be read as performing both the act of witness-
ing and the experience of trauma via the medium of film itself.

This interpretation is also echoed within James’s Racialicious review of McQueen’s 12 Years a 
Slave. In her review, James notes that the film’s cinematographic aspects often collapse and dis-
place linear temporality, mimicking the disorientation and discontinuity of the trauma of slave 
life. As James notes, at any point in the film “This could be 12 months, 12 weeks or 12 years 
and we wouldn’t have known; I even lost track of how long I’d been in the theater.” James goes 
on to say that, “There’s no clear changing of the seasons; no transition from spring to summer 
to fall.” Rather, “Time is marked by the passing of violence rather than the passing of the sea-
sons, and it blurs and stretches and bunches together in places.” Here, James directly engages a 
larger discourse on depictions of slavery, in which the medium of film itself mimics the trauma 
of slavery, its confusion and dissociation. 

These particular framings of the relationship between slavery and visual culture have also 
been strongly challenged within contemporary discourse. In Slavery, Empathy, and Pornogra-
phy, Marcus Wood argues that the rhetorical framing of images of slave punishment and suf-
fering reveals a pornographic impulse bound up in the act of sympathetic viewing. According 
to Wood, sympathetic images of slave torture and abuse “treat the slave body…as punishment 
object or fetish in directly exploitative and eroticized ways which are blatantly pornographic” 
(93). In these images, argues Wood, the slave body is rhetorically commodified and objectified 
for sympathetic consumption by a voyeuristic white audience. In viewing these images of slave 
punishment, the white audience is invited to “fantasize his/her own fictions of torture” (93), to 
imagine themselves in both the position of torturer and tortured. In this way, the image of the 
punished slave body is rhetorically commodifed as fetish object for the erotic pleasure of sym-
pathetic white fantasy. According to Wood, this “auto-erotics of sympathy” incorporates both 
a possessive and competitive action on behalf of the viewer. The image of the tortured slave in 
sympathetic fantasy creates a perverse comparative ground in which the audience is “vying to 
see who can suffer more, the victim in her tortured state, or the sympathetic voyeur in his abil-
ity to think himself into her pain” (131). The rhetorical competition imbedded in the sympa-
thetic viewing of the image of the tortured slave also creates a form of possession and exertion 
over the slave body that disturbingly mimics the dynamics of slavery—the viewer can “can 
come back to and ‘enjoy’ the suffering of the fantasy slave at any time, and in any way he likes. 
This act of imaginative possession exists in troubled relation to the manner in which a real slave 
owner can use the slave’s body at any time, in any way” (16). The commodification and objecti-
fication of the image of the punished slave body via sympathetic framing, the competition and 
possession imbedded in sympathetic fantasy, suggests that these images “are not about black 
slave lives and black slave suffering, but about white fantasies of black slave lives and black slave 
suffering” (21). As a result, Wood’s analysis radically interrogates a reading of images of slave 
suffering as resistant to histories of romanticization, instead framing them as their own form of 
romanticization and erasure.

Wood’s interrogation of the rhetorical objectification, commodification, and fetishization of 
the image of the tortured slave body is echoed in several reviews of McQueen’s 12 Years a Slave. 
In a review titled “Where are the Serious Movies About Non-Suffering Black People?”, author 

19 Wolfe



Roxanne Gay argues that Hollywood has a particular fetish for depicting the torture and subju-
gation of the enslaved black body, and that this fetish, rather than depicting the reality of slav-
ery, often works to specifically limit and erase representation. According to Gay, “Hollywood 
has very specific notions about how they want to see black people on the silver screen….all too 
often, critical acclaim for black films is built upon the alter of black suffering or subjugation.” 
Here, echoing Wood, Gay identifies the ways in which the tortured black body is fetishized 
and romanticized through sympathetic consumption, as well as how the cultural investment 
in these images controls and contains narratives of black experience and life. In this way, Gay 
engages in a larger discourse interrogating the rhetorical performance of images of the tortured 
slave body, ultimately reading the ways in which these images implicitly engage and reaffirm the 
structures of power they claim to challenge and subvert.

The ambiguity of McQueen’s images of slavery, particularly the image of the tortured slave 
body, is reflected in the ambiguity of discourse surrounding images of slavery in visual culture. 
This ambiguity is indicative of what Marcus Wood calls “the violent instability of the slavery 
archive,” its seemingly endless capacity for appropriation and refraction (Slavery, Empathy 
and Pornography, 7). Wood, along with many trauma studies scholars, also questions to what 
degree the lived experience and transhistorical memory of slavery may be inaccessible and 
unreachable. For Wood, “the images reproduced mimic the experience…yet for each slave the 
experience was unrepeatable, irreducible, and irreproducible, all human suffering exists beyond 
the vulgarity of the simulacrum” (7). In this way, according to Wood, the images of slavery call 
us “to be witness to the unrepresentable.” 

In Remnants of Aushwitz: The Witness and the Archive, author Giorgio Agamben argues that 
testimony and bearing witness to atrocity occupies a particular hinge: “On the one hand, what 
happened….appears to the survivors as the only true thing and, as such, absolutely unforgetta-
ble; on the other hand, this truth is to the same degree unimaginable, that is, irreducible to the 
real events that constitute it.” (12). This hinge of the unimaginable and the incomprehensible, 
the unforgettable and the inarticulateable, is indicative of a “lacuna” specifically imbedded in 
the nature of testimony itself. However, the paradoxical ambiguity that makes up the lacuna of 
testimony is not something to be resolved; it is not through a process of resolving the lacuna of 
witnessing that one locates the nature of testimony. Rather, the author argues that the lacuna 
of witnessing points to the very structure of testimony; that inherent to and imbedded in the 
nature of testimony is the simultaneous impossibility of bearing witness.

This analysis of testimony has specific implications with regard to the instability and am-
biguity of McQueen’s images of the violence of slavery, the discourse on images of slavery in 
visual culture, and the very nature of representation itself. Rather than view the instability of 
images of slavery in McQueen’s 12 Years a Slave, and within the larger body of visual culture, 
as something to be deciphered and resolved in order to locate the memory of slavery and its 
representation, it is possible that something like the memory of slavery lies in this paradox and 
inherent impossibility of “realism” itself. If the memory of slavery is irrecoverable, if trauma 
is defined by what is not there and cannot be represented, then perhaps imbedded within the 
paradox of the real, framed and defined always by what is not real and not there, is something 
close to the meaning and memory of slavery and its violence. 

20 Wolfe



Agamben, Giorgio. Remnants of Auschwitz: The Witness and the Archive. New York: Zone, 
2002. Print.

Davis, Natalie Zemon. Slaves on Screen: Film and Historical Vision. Cambridge: Harvard 
University Press, 2000. Print. 

Fryd, Vivien Green. “Bearing Witness to the Trauma of Slavery in Kara Walker’s Videos: 
Testimony, Eight Possible Beginnings, and I was transported.” Continuum: Journal of Media and 
Cultural Studies 24.1 (2010): 145-159. Print. 

Gay, Roxanne. “Where Are the Serious Movies About Non-Suffering Black People?”. Vulture. 6 
Nov. 2013. Web, 9 Sept. 2014. 

James, Kendra. “The Racialicious Review of 12 Years a Slave.” Racialicious. 21 Oct. 2013. Web. 9 
Sept. 2014. 

Wood, Marcus. Blind Memory: Visual Representations of Slavery in England and America 1780-
1865. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2000. Print.

Wood, Marcus. Slavery, Empathy and Pornography. New York: Oxford University Press, 
2002. Print.

21

Works Cited

Wolfe



On Cinematography and Discomfort in 12 Years a Slave
Kathryn Hampshire
 
Slavery is violent by its very nature. From the physical brutality to the psychological dam-

age enslavement inflicts, a discussion of violence is vital for any conversation surrounding the 
subject of this institution. In 12 Years a Slave, the director, cinematographer, and actors present 
viewers with a disturbing and uncomfortable final product in what cultural historian Dr. Thom-
as Doherty says “has already been called the most searing depiction of slavery ever projected 
on the American screen” (5). By lingering on scenes a bit longer (sometimes a lot longer) and 
providing stark contrasts that highlight the horrors of the narrative, the film forces audience 
members to confront their own discomfort about the subject head on. 

“[R]elentless cinematic intensity” is prevalent from the very beginning when the camera 
pushes its way through leaves in the field “closing in like vegetative shackles he [Solomon] 
cannot hack away” (Doherty 5). This scene creates a claustrophobic feeling which sets view-
ers up for the discomfort to follow. Several times, director Steve McQueen utilizes his actors’ 
faces to further the themes of distress and pain. According to scholar Deborah E. McDowell, 
“In giving so much visual and sonic space to the mournful and melancholic—forlorn looks, 
grieving eyes, audible sobs—McQueen allows us to consider slavery’s devastating hold on the 
emotional lives of the enslaved” (379), a concept which I find most evident in a scene toward 
the end of the film.

This nearly silent (minus a storm brewing in the distance) extended shot of Solomon’s 
angst-ridden face includes a full 14 seconds of direct eye contact. This scene has not received 
much attention thus far, but I propose that it is one of the most powerful in the film. Accord-
ing to director of photography and camera operator Sean Bobbitt in an interview with TIME 
LightBox, this is exactly what he was going for in what he attests is his favorite scene: “His face 
isn’t moving, and yet we see the whole of his life written in his eyes, the compassion and the 
horror and the dignity all welled up inside him,” he said, “and then he does that little glance 
into the camera, it was like a physical blow to the chest. It’s so simple and powerful, and for me 
that’s what cinematography should be” (qtd. in Moakley). Extended eye contact can be uncom-
fortable enough in person since, as Dr. Gwyneth Doherty-Sneddon points out, “Looking at 
faces is quite mentally demanding [especially] when we are trying to concentrate and process 
something else that’s mentally demanding” (qtd. in BBC). From a film with so much difficult 
material for viewers to process already, these moments are all the more disconcerting. Solomon 
forces the audience to acknowledge his tortured, hollow eyes, empty yet full of pain—so telling 
of slavery’s inherent nature—in such an uncomfortable, unsanitized, and unashamed way as to 
show slavery for what it is. 

Two scenes in particular receive the most attention within critical conversations about the 
film: the hanging of Northup and the whipping of Patsey. The incredible violence and inhu-
manity depicted in these moments certainly render them memorable, but the more subtle 
aspects of the cinematography are what truly make them stand out from the rest of the film.

With the hanging scene, Bobbitt was not about to let the audience off easy. In an interview 
with the Hollywood Reporter, he said, “Each of the [hanging scene] shots is held for a long 
period of time, specifically to make the audience as uncomfortable as possible and to force 
them to reflect on what was happening to Solomon and how terrifying that must have been” 

22 Hampshire



(qtd. in Giardina). Capping off at 1:26 of uncut footage, the film forces the audience to watch 
as Northup balances on his toes in the mud to prevent his suffocating in the noose. With little 
action on screen except for a few slaves going about their business in the background and 
hardly any noise but the sickly squishing of sludge beneath his toes, this scene is purposefully 
brutal to watch. 

When the camera finally breaks from this angle, viewers get a moment of respite. The film’s 
next two minutes of Northup’s struggling to stay alive represent the hours he had to wait for 
his own relief (which, notably, must come at the hands of his master) by showing the daylight 
changing and other slaves going about their daily activities in the background. “What was very 
important is that the audience gets a sense of the passage of time, and sense the length of the 
shots, that feeling of the duration of the day,” said Bobbitt (qtd. in Moakley). It is important 
here to reference how this theme of relief without resolution continues through to the end of 
the film when Solomon is finally rescued from slavery. In that moment, though relieved for 
his salvation, the audience also experiences unfulfilled yearning for a happy ending to Patsey’s 
story too as she only fades further into the background, a lingering message of slavery’s still 
unresolved legacy in both history and modern times alike.

The suffering Solomon faces in his hanging contrasts with the anguish he is forced to inflict on 
a fellow slave in the other highly-discussed scene: Patsey’s whipping. Continuous shooting was 
important to the crew to depict this extreme inhumanity. Bobbitt said to the Hollywood Reporter: 

[T]hat was always going to be one continuous shot…. The audience is given no relief. Once you 
put a cut in, then subconsciously everyone is aware that they are watching a film, and it lets them off 
the hook…. Particularly for a scene like that, with the complexity of the emotions and the violence 
going on, it really acts to heighten the drama and the performance of the actors. (qtd. in Giardina)

In this continuous shot totaling a whopping 6:21, the camera includes “multiple perspectives 
of victim, perpetrator, unwilling participant, and enthusiastic onlooker” (Doherty 7). This 
observation is certainly important; thus, I wish to delve further into its implications. The cin-
ematography avoids jump cuts between perspectives since these leaps tend to give viewers the 
sense of “jumping” into individual characters’ heads for certain moments of a narrative. In-
stead, the film opts for an omniscient, authentic, and continuous shot which shows the events 
and the various people involved blatantly as they are. 

One significant element of this scene has gone generally unnoticed, but I wish to draw atten-
tion to it here. It is only after following the soap—the small, pure, innocent cause of so much 
violence, wretchedness, and suffering—fall gently to the ground from Patsey’s hands that the 
camera finally breaks. But, instead of offering a moment of relief to the audience, it does the op-
posite: the screen goes straight to a shocking shot of Patsey’s lacerated back, “the most extreme 
and horrid of the many images of bodily harm in 12 Years a Slave” (Doherty 7). By doing so, 
I propose that the film demonstrates how even something—or someone—innocent, clean of 
any stain of guilt, can be twisted and warped through the violence of slavery. 

The break between the scenes also shows how, in the life of a slave, there are no moments 
of relief; even when one expects a reprieve, she may only face further suffering. By imposing 
this feeling of hopelessness and apprehension on the audience, these scenes force viewers to 
experience and confront their discomfort with the violence of slavery. By making the audience 
uncomfortable instead of opting for a more sanitized version of the story, this film draws atten-
tion to the twisted nature of slavery through these unrelenting depictions of depravity.

23 Hampshire



In addition to these scenes of violence, I would also like to emphasize how this film’s cine-
matography provides stark contrasts which make the audience view these events in a different 
light than they may have without these contrasts. First, we will examine Solomon’s transition 
from loving to loathing his one source of solace—his violin. At 6:30, viewers receive close-up 
footage of him taking care of his beloved instrument, which directly contrasts a scene nearly 
two hours later when he destroys one. The camera zooms in on the violin like the previous 
scene, only now depicting pain instead of care. Whereas in the beginning Solomon carefully 
tunes his instrument, now he tightens each string until it snaps, then breaks the neck in half. 
I find the fact that the latter of the two scenes follows Patsey’s whipping to be significant: it 
shows how this act has forced him over the edge to the point where something which once 
brought him solace is now symbolic of suffering.

Several times, setting itself provides contrast. Toward the beginning, the camera focuses on 
patriotic symbols. When Solomon is beaten and held in a cell, the camera pans from the barred 
window up to a picturesque view of the Capitol Building and other easily-recognizable D.C. 
landmarks. Harvard professor John Stauffer points out how, later in the film, one can see the 
Washington Monument through a spinning paddle-wheel of the ship taking Solomon south 
which “zooms toward us, filling the screen, suggesting the closed society in which it heads” 
(318). In addition to his observation, I would like to elaborate by saying that these juxtaposi-
tions of the institution of slavery with contemporary symbols of patriotism serve an additional 
purpose: they force the audience to the uncomfortable acknowledgement of the horrors in the 
country’s history and their reverberations into the present. 

Setting the rest of the film in Louisiana gave the crew the opportunity to present visuals 
as “an ironic compensation during all the human misery” since “all would be beautiful were 
not the impenetrable landscape a natural penitentiary” (Doherty 7). I find a prime example 
of Doherty’s point at 33:00, when the camera shows silhouettes of nature and then pans to a 
line-up of slaves. Later, when Solomon is whipping the overseer Tibeats, the wide camera angle 
shows the violence of the act juxtaposed with the calm of the scenery. 

In my critical analysis, I also observe how the use of dark versus light conveys disparity by 
allowing viewers to experience despair along with Solomon. When he first finds himself a captive, 
the scene sharply breaks from the brightness of his last meal as a free man to the pitch blackness 
of his cell. His flashbacks to the night before are increasingly darker as they progress, symbolizing 
his descent into a living hell. At the night’s close, the men blow out a candle as they also blow the 
life and hope from his existence for the 12 years to follow. Later, when a fellow laborer betrays 
Solomon’s trust, light from a lantern goes away, leaving him in the pitch black with only his de-
spair. He throws his letter into the fire, and viewers watch as the embers slowly fade away, creating 
a growing sense of hopelessness as Solomon’s hope dies along with them.

Cinematographic temporality also aids in this depiction of contrasts while also contributing 
to our discussion of discomfort. By using combinations of long takes and close-ups, Bobbitt 
creates a sense of “slow-as-molasses meteorology” (Doherty 7). Even when the camera does 
move unencumbered, the freedom it depicts is contrary to the subjects it captures. According 
to Doherty, in order “[t]o evoke Solomon’s stranded and locked-up condition, McQueen keeps 
his camera horizontal and close to the ground, taking his time to look straight at a vista or a 
face, with a minimum of non-diegetic music” (7).  Indeed, along with emphasizing Solomon’s 
lack of freedom, the film also demonstrates how his relativity in regards to time is completely 
dependent on his master. According to McDowell, “At every level of 12 Years a Slave, McQueen 

24 Hampshire



meditates on time and measures progress in painfully incremental steps and stages.… For Solo-
mon, as for the viewer, time passes all too slowly” (376). Whether it be progress on Solomon’s 
difficult road to freedom or his daily labors at the hands of his abusers, the painstakingly slow 
pace forces viewers to look at suffering far longer than they would wish. 

Through these cinematographic strategies of temporality and disparity, we can come to a 
further appreciation for what this film accomplishes in terms of its depiction of slavery. Along 
with adding emphasis to their respective moments, these techniques also aid in the overall de-
piction of this brutal institution’s violent nature. 12 Years a Slave presents audiences with such 
difficult viewing material that is free of sanitization. By doing so, it puts the audience members 
in a situation where they must either turn their eyes from the violence before them (as we so 
often do) or face that brutality and what it means that we are so disconcerted by it. However 
much we might want slavery to be the straightforward, sanitized problem of the past that so 
many films make it out to be, 12 Years a Slave forces us to face the fact that this peculiar institu-
tion still has reverberations into the present.

 

25 Hampshire



12 Years a Slave. Dir. Steve McQueen. Perf. Chiwetel Ejiofor, Michael Kenneth Williams, 
Michael Fassbender, and Adepero Oduye. Regency Enterprises, 2013. Film.

BBC. “Pupils ‘Must Look Away to Think.’” BBC News. 11 January 2006. Web. 20 November 2014.

Doherty, Thomas. “Bringing the Slave Narrative to Screen: Steve McQueen and John Ridley’s 
Searing Depiction of America’s ‘Peculiar Institution.’”  Cineaste: America’s Leading Magazine 
on the Art and Politics of the Cinema 39.1 (2013): 4-8.

Giardina, Carolyn. “’12 Years a Slave’ Cinematographer Sean Bobbitt: Not Letting the Audience 
Off the Hook.” The Hollywood Reporter. 17 October 2013. Web. 14 September 2014. 

McDowell, Debora E. “How Long?—Not Long.”  American Literature History 26.2 (2014): 374-384. 

Moakley, Paul. “Behind the Moving Image: The Cinematography of 12 Years a Slave.” TIME 
LightBox, 27 February 2014. Web. 14 September 2014. 

Stauffer, John. “12 Years between Life and Death.” American Literature History 26.2 (2014): 317-325. 
 

26

Works Cited

Hampshire



Scoured Souls: The Imbalance between Mistresses 
and Female Slaves

Ramona Simmons
 
In examining slavery, the focus on the cycle of abuse tends to remain on the interaction 

between female slaves and their male masters. Any relationships existing between the mistress 
and female slaves were often overlooked, or downplayed as being friendly or even familial. 
As shown in popular slavery films like Django Unchained, and even mildly in 12 Years a Slave, 
female slaves were often depicted as being workers within the home who fulfilled many of 
the roles a traditional homemaker would, from cooking to cleaning. In contrast, because the 
domestic tasks were well-taken care of, mistresses developed relationships with these slave 
women in a quasi-friendly nature, as displayed in works like Gone with the Wind. In the dura-
tion of the Margaret Mitchel novel-based film, the bond between Scarlett O’Hara and Mammy 
is portrayed as more of a maternal disposition where the slave acted as a nanny for a young 
woman until she grew older. 12 Years a Slave shatters this serene portrait by deploying char-
acters such as Mistress Epps and Patsey, showing the darker side of the mistress-female slave 
interactions as being one of hatred and jealousy. To fully understand this shift in presentation 
of women in slavery, it is important to understand the false mutual oppression of both women 
in slavery. Often, it seems that both sets of women were subjected to dominance by the slave 
master, leading to both groups being viewed as victims. Although this is true, we less often ex-
amine how this can lead to the mistress’s abuse of the female slave to empower herself. Lastly, it 
is equally important to expose the clash between the women’s roles in slavery that transformed 
into a relation of violence from a mistress towards a slave.

Upon looking at slavery witnessed in 12 Years a Slave, it could be argued that mistresses and 
female slaves were found in the same predicament in their oppression within patriarchy. Master 
Epps belittles Patsey, a female slave that is highlighted as his favorite for the amount of work she 
can accomplish in comparison to the other slaves. This earns her the title of “Queen of the Fields,” 
which in turn captures the plantation mistress’ attention. Outraged by the energy Master Epps 
places in praising and eyeing Patsey, Mistress Epps demands for her husband to end his improved 
attitude towards and treatment of Patsey. Master Epps refuses, for he thinks of himself as the ruler 
of the entire plantation, his wife unequal to his status, and blatantly ignores her requests, leaving 
the audience a glimpse of how mistresses were oppressed by their husbands. 

Although the mistress was ranked higher in the social hierarchy, both the mistress and the 
female slave answered to the male master of the land. Mistresses were viewed as psychological 
slaves to their husbands through their lack of equality in status. Within her essay Charlotte Ar-
bogast goes into the shared “property” state of both women saying, “The confines of gender for 
white women in southern society also meant that upon getting married, white women turned 
into a form of ‘property’ for their new husbands” (Arbogast 1). This reality was showcased in 
several ways that dominated a mistress’ typical life. She was expected to serve as a child bearer, 
maiden of the household, devout Christian, and entertainer, everything that comprised the 
picture of domesticity. Typically, the slaves belonged to the master. As a result, oftentimes 
there would be a power struggle between a mistress and her husband, as any orders from the 
husband would override requests by the mistress. An imbalance in slave control between mas-

27 Simmons



ter and mistress could thereby be attributed to the gender-specific roles within the community 
in which slavery occurred. Buhle, Murphy, and Gerhard, American historians and professors 
at assorted U.S. universities, explain the lack of feminine power due to her domination in the 
private circles (i.e. household function concerns), whereas her husband was within the public 
circles (associated with politics and economy) (xx). With his role being the financial provider, 
this introduces another layer of complexity of reliance that the slaves and mistress both had 
concerning the master. Without the men to supply money and conduct business, the mistress 
and slaves were thought to be lost, as the mistress held little social standing; meanwhile the 
slave held none at all. For example, both women and slaves did not have a voice within politics 
to interject their own opinions for change, which speaks to the mistress’ near-nonexistence and 
the slaves’ nonexistence in the realm of politics. Mistresses themselves were still involved in 
social networks more so than slaves, as they did have certain rights and were active in engage-
ments with other society members, which were key rights that slaves were deprived of. 

When considering the mistreatment of female slaves at the hands of their mistresses, the 
physical harm is what comes to mind primarily. Even women who did not own slaves them-
selves sought out slaves as the gateway for them to achieve true housewife status. Within 
his study, Soul by Soul: Life Inside the Antebellum Slave Market, Harvard University professor 
William Johnson develops the idea that if a mistress was to have house slaves, they would clear 
her of having to perform the physical labor of being a housewife. She would still be credited as 
being responsible for a successful domestic life without having to endure the physical labors 
of doing so, fulfilling her time leisurely with her family and hosting acquaintances (79-162). 
The abuse of power over house slaves was something that seduced many mistresses and led to 
violence as a possible coercion tactic to encourage obedience.

Despite domination being necessary in order to secure social status, others have shined a  
light on the emotion aspects of producing such violence. Conflict would arise in that “many 
incidents involving the cruelty of a mistress also involved a female slave’s alleged intimacy with 
the master” (Reilly 52). Arguably, the free women who committed these infractions against 
slaves felt threatened by slaves who were supposed to be of a lower social standing than them. 
The mistresses’ real anger stemmed directly from the very system in which they found them-
selves. Michaela Davis discusses the challenge to their position that the mistresses felt and the 
inability they had to confront their husbands about the white male supremacy that prevented 
them from advancing on in the hierarchy (Davis). Thereafter, the mistresses would oppress any 
slaves that had relations (unwanted or not) with her husband in order to deprive him of one 
avenue of pleasure he sought out (Davis).

Within the movie, the compliance of Mistress Epps with the slave system is appalling and 
one that makes the audience root against her. Her use of violence towards Patsey was a theme 
throughout the movie that was sickening, a derivative of the grotesque animalistic advances of 
Master Epps on Patsey. As Patsey improves throughout her time at the Epps’ plantation, this 
awards her the attention of Master Epps. While he takes a greater notice of her, Mistress Epps is 
in the wings, watching exactly how far Master Epps will take his taboo relationship with Patsey. 
Soon enough, Mistress Epps notices that Master Epps finds attraction in the qualities she does 
not possess herself, such as extreme physical labor productivity.

A particular scene that draws attention to the attraction Master Epps carelessly displays is 
one in which he wakes all of the slaves up in the dead of night to make them dance within his 
home. Solomon plays the violin while his fellow slaves follow suit after an intoxicated Master 

28 Simmons



Epps and his chosen partner, Patsey. During this parade of lunacy on behalf of Master Epps, 
Mistress Epps enters the scene to investigate what it is the slaves are performing. This is when 
her eyes are set on Patsey, with whom Master Epps has taken the liberty to dance. Upon 
doing so, she disrupts them and comes face-to-face with Patsey. She finds herself torn because 
she has been beaten out socially by an individual who is supposed to be inferior to her status. 
Once she realizes this, she confronts Patsey by shattering a glass and raking it down her face. 
Screaming in agony, a confused Patsey has blood rush profusely from her face and is taken 
away to be cared for.

The scene illustrated above refers to many reasons why white slave women were active 
participants in the cruelty against their slaves. If it did not scare obedience into the slave, the 
purpose was then to find a way to disrupt any relationship between the slave (Patsey) and 
master (Master Epps). Collectively as females, both sets of women were subjected to mental 
abuse from a typically controlling and overbearing white male master, admittedly. Despite this 
similarity in circumstance, female slaves emerged as the individuals suffering the most abuse, 
becoming sexual objects for masters to prey upon. Alongside, they became victims of the 
mistress’ violence for these unwanted sexual advances from the master. Although the Scarlett 
O’Hara’s and Mammy’s of the film industry would have consumers think otherwise, there was a 
much darker side to the relationship between the two women who held the master’s attention, 
unwanted (by the slave) or yearned for (by the mistress). This dimension of the mistress-fe-
male slave relationship is a side often kept within the darkness of the same shadows that con-
ceal the painful truth of being a female of color in the Confederate South.

29 Simmons



Arbogast, Charlotte E. “Perceptions of White Mistresses: The ‘Mistress’ and the ‘Dear White 
Mother.’” Lynchburg College. Web. 14 Sept. 2014.

Buhle, Mari Jo, Teresa Murphy, and Jane Gerhard. Women and the Making of America. Upper 
Saddle River: Pearson, 2008. Print.

Davis, Michaela Angela. “12 Years a Slave: Rage, Privilege, Black Women and White Women.” 
Jezebel. Gawker Media. 28 Oct. 2013. Web. 14 Sept. 2014.

Johnson, William. Soul by Soul: Life Inside the Antebellum Slave Market. Cambridge: Harvard 
University Press, 1990. Print. 

Reilly, Elizabeth Lauren. The “Scab” of Slavery: Interracial Female Solidarity in Literature About the 
Antebellum South. M.A. Thesis. Vanderbilt University, 2008. Print.

White, Deborah Gray. Ar’n’ I a Woman?: Female Slaves in the Plantation South. New York: W. W. 
Norton & Company, 1999. Print.

 

30

Works Cited

Simmons



The Inability to Commit Suicide: An Analysis of 
Steve McQueen’s 12 Years a Slave 

Bryce Longenberger

Suicide is destructive in its very nature. The act of suicide ends the life of a person, which 
is accomplished intentionally and purposefully by the hand of that very individual. It is not 
shocking that a system such as slavery, which is inherently violent and degrading in nature, 
would drive a person to desire and succeed in taking his or her own life. In this essay, I will ex-
plore the way in which Steve McQueen utilizes the idea of suicide in his film 12 Years a Slave to 
highlight the extent to which slavery can degrade a human being and shape his or her life into a 
zombie-like state of existence. And it is at this point where he or she does not even possess the 
capability of taking his or her own life.

Before I examine the role of suicide and slavery in the film itself, I want to outline the history 
and theories behind suicide and slavery throughout history. The scholarship on this intersec-
tion has been scarce throughout the decades since slavery’s end. Terry L. Snyder indicates that 
the nature of self-destruction among slaves has been largely overlooked because, during the 
time of slavery, it was difficult to determine the number of slaves who committed suicide versus 
slaves who died of other causes (40). However, some research does exist, and Snyder states 
that the research that has been done concludes that slaves who committed suicide often acted 
in defiance of and in resistance to their masters.

One of the earliest pieces of research on suicide as a form of resistance appeared in the 
1940’s when Raymond and Alice Bauer described the various ways in which slaves resisted 
their masters, including feigning illness and inflicting pain upon themselves. They noted, how-
ever, that in extreme cases, slaves would commit suicide as “an indirect means of retaliation” 
(418). Although this research is over half a century old, this view has not subsided in recent 
years. Snyder also states in her 2010 article that “slave suicide often has been rightly perceived 
as a form of defiance” and that it can indeed be seen as “‘the ultimate form of resistance’” that a 
slave can perform (42). Suicide here allowed a slave to resist his circumstances and ultimately 
the master who enslaved him. Surprisingly enough, suicide serves a dual purpose beyond mere 
resistance. Linda Kay Kneeland explains that slaves would choose suicide as a form of retalia-
tion when they “determined that they were unwilling to exist under the only choices they could 
perceive, and when they saw only more pain in their future” (9). It seems that despair and sur-
render were incredibly significant in a slave’s decision to end his or her own life. And so, suicide 
in slavery has been seen to be both a form of resistance to the master’s authority and an act of 
escape and release from the pain the slave has endured. 

As we now move our attention to an analysis of the film, I would first like to describe the 
ways in which suicide appears in both Solomon’s narrative and the film. In Solomon’s narrative, 
he dwelt on the thought of suicide in multiple places in his novel. The prospect of death was 
always on his mind, and he was constantly thinking that “death was far less terrible than the 
living prospect that was before” him (Northup 40). But even more striking than his obsession 
with death are his thoughts of regret and jealousy for not being dead himself. In his narrative, 
after Robert is killed on the steamboat heading south to Louisiana, Solomon muses, “There 
was a feeling of utter desolation in my heart, filling it with a despairing and regretful sense, that 

31 Longenberger



I had not gone down with Robert to the bottom of the sea” (Northup 44). Solomon clearly be-
lieved at times in his enslavement that it would be much better, even beneficial, for him to end 
his life and be done with all of the violence and suffering that life as a slave had to offer him.

For the most part, the theme of suicide is mirrored in McQueen’s film version of 12 Years 
a Slave. The most prominent parallel between the book and the film appears again during the 
ride on the steamboat to Louisiana. The day after Robert is killed while trying to resist a white 
man who is taking Eliza away in the night, Solomon and another black man are disposing of 
Robert’s body. After they dump his body overboard, Solomon stares at the body floating away 
and appears to be mourning the loss of Robert’s life. But Solomon’s companion breaks the si-
lence, turning to Solomon and saying, “[He’s] better off; better than us.” Even though Solomon 
never expresses suicidal thoughts in the film, here again we see this idea that death is preferable 
to life. Even though they do not mention suicide, the act hangs as a constant possibility and a 
chance to join the dead man who is “better off ” than the living slave.

The second appearance of suicide in the film is actually a major deviation from Solomon’s 
narrative, and it is on this deviation that our analysis of the film will rest. This is the scene 
where Patsey asks Solomon to kill her. In Solomon’s narrative, we see that Patsey never ex-
presses an interest in ending her life. She may have thought about it on countless occasions, 
but she never expresses the actual desire to end her life, at least according to Solomon. In the 
film, however, McQueen chose to have Patsey attempt to kill herself even though she never 
actually follows through. Toward the end of the film, before Patsey is brutally whipped, Patsey 
approaches Solomon in the dead of night and asks Solomon the following in a pleading voice 
with great conviction and determination: “All I ask: end my life. Take my body to the margin 
of the swamp … take me by the throat, hold me low in the water until I am still and with-
out life.” Solomon immediately becomes appalled by the fact that Patsey has fallen into such 
despair. When he pleads with her, she claims passionately, “I ain’t got no comfort in this life.” 
When Solomon still resists her pleas, she begs with him, asking him to “do what I ain’t got the 
strength to do myself ” (McQueen).

Overall, scholars have discussed the issue of suicide in the film quite extensively, just not the 
reasons why Patsey was unable to end her own life. John Stauffer discusses the film through 
the framework of survivalism, which he argues plays a huge role in slaves’ lives, until the point 
where they “perceive living in slavery as worse than death, and it is at this point that they 
rebel” (319). As we’ve already seen, this rebellion often occurs in the form of suicide. But 
scholars also stress the fact that this rebellion is still fueled by a desire for release from this life. 
In analyzing the importance of Patsey in the film and her role in gaining narrative authority, 
Salamishah Tillet concludes in her paper that the experiences of “Solomon’s fellow slaves are 
so abject” that they believe “death, by suicide or murder, might be [a] viable alternative” (359). 
What Tillet and Stauffer are suggesting is the inescapable fact that slaves who commit suicide 
are reacting to the “abject” circumstances of their lives by choosing to both rebel against their 
master and release themselves from their miserable lives. As we can clearly see, this matches 
the research done on suicide and slavery throughout history.

Even though scholars have discussed why slaves might want to commit suicide, they have 
not touched on the reason why Patsey does not commit suicide. If Patsey had committed 
suicide, it would indeed have allowed her to resist the “rape by her master” and the “odium of 
Mistress Epps” (Stauffer 320). By committing suicide, she would have been able to resist her 
master and release herself from a life full of violence. But Patsey does not do this. We must 

32 Longenberger



then ask two major questions: why does Patsey not commit suicide, and why does McQueen 
add the scene where Patsey expresses a desire to commit suicide when it was not even men-
tioned in Solomon’s narrative? To answer these questions, I believe that McQueen represents 
Patsey as having endured so much pain in her life that she has resigned herself to merely 
surviving instead of living. In this zombie-like state, I believe that Patsey is incapable of taking 
her life with her own two hands. I also believe McQueen added this scene not to comment on 
what suicide allows a slave to do but rather to comment on a system of oppression that is so 
degrading that it can cause a person to fall into such a wretched state of existence based solely 
on surviving instead of living.

The idea of survivalism is introduced in John Stauffer’s article where he defines the life of a 
slave as existing in a “state of war” between life and death itself, which results from the “extreme 
power imbalance between master and slave” (317). He focuses his attention on Solomon Nor-
thup; he states that Solomon is forcibly kept alive so that he may labor for his master, but then 
he is simultaneously subjected to extreme violence and brutality that threatens him with death. 
In this way, Stauffer argues that Solomon, and slaves in general, constantly dangle between life 
and death, touching both at the same time yet never staying on a definitive side. Because of this, 
many slaves resort to merely surviving instead of living or dying. In the film, when Solomon is 
whisked away to be enslaved in the south, a fellow slave tells him that he must be quiet about 
his identity in order to survive. Solomon retorts in disbelief and rage, saying, “I don’t want to 
survive; I want to live.” But after Solomon has been subjected to the demoralizing violence of 
slavery, Eliza asks Solomon how he can bear the loss of his children so well. Solomon screams 
back at her in desperation: “I survive!” Solomon has been exposed to such extreme forms of 
violence and degradation that he is no longer fully able or willing to live or die; he has instead 
been forced to resign himself to a structuralized state of survival and mere existence. We can see 
here that the oppression slaves are subjected to renders them into a system that places them into 
a structure that resembles that of mindless zombies, people who are neither truly dead nor alive 
but merely existing and unable to change the circumstances of their own lives. 

In the film, Patsey’s life is very much centered on survivalism—between death and tru-
ly being alive—as well. When Master Epps discovers that she left the plantation for a bar of 
soap, Patsey cries, “I stink so much I make myself gag … and for that I will be clean. That is all 
I ask” (McQueen). This desire to be clean, to merely cease the stench that is emanating from 
her body, is clearly a desire grounded in a person who is merely trying to survive life, to get 
through a single day at a time. We also see the ways in which Patsey is unable to help herself. 
After her brutal beating towards the end of the film, her lacerated back is being cleaned, and 
she looks up at Solomon and a tear slides down her face (McQueen). She is silently asking 
Solomon why he did not end her life; she is asking him why he did not do what she did not 
have the power or strength to do herself. Because Patsey has been subjected to more violence 
and brutality than any human being can conceivably live through, she is enduring the violence 
because she can do nothing to stop it herself.

The fact still remains that McQueen could have had Patsey end her own life; it would have 
been a deviation from the book and would have altered the effect of the film dramatically. If 
McQueen had wanted to comment on the atrocities of slavery by having Patsey actually end 
her life, he could have done so. Instead, McQueen chose to insert this instance of not being 
able to commit suicide. I believe McQueen intentionally included a scene where Patsey ex-
presses a desire to commit suicide because he wanted to introduce the idea of a system of 

33 Longenberger



oppression that alters the human condition in a way where suicide becomes impossible. By in-
cluding this scene, McQueen stresses the dehumanization of slaves like Patsey who have been 
rendered into zombies who can merely exist and survive. 

At the end of the film, Solomon is taken back to his family in the North. He has been given 
back his life and can live out the remainder of his life with his family away from the constant 
presence of the whip. But as the carriage carrying Solomon from Epps’s plantation continues 
moving toward us on the screen, the background becomes fuzzy, and we see Patsey fall to the 
ground in a miserable heap. In this hazy backdrop, which blurs not only the scenery but Patsey 
herself, McQueen reminds us once again of the extremity of violence that is inherent in slav-
ery. As the movie ends, we cannot forget Patsey and her zombie-like state. Despite Solomon’s 
relatively happy ending, Patsey will always haunt us and remind us of the degrading essence of 
slavery and its power to make some humans into beings that can merely exist, beings who may 
desire to live or die but are nevertheless powerless to change their fate either way.

34 Longenberger



Bauer, Raymond A. and Alice H. Bauer. “Day to Day Resistance to Slavery.” The Journal of Negro 
History 27.4 (1942): 388-419. JSTOR. Web. 23 September 2014. 

Kneeland, Linda Kay. “African American Suffering and Suicide Under Slavery.” MA thesis. 
Montana State University, 2006. Web. 22 September 2014.

McQueen, Steve, dir. 12 Years a Slave. Regency Enterprises, 2013. Film. 

Northup, Solomon. Twelve Years a Slave. 1853. Ed. Henry Louis Gates, Jr. New York: Penguin, 
2012. Print.

Snyder, Terry L. “Suicide, Slavery and Memory in North America.” Journal of American History 
97.1 (2010): 39-62. Web. 23 September 2014. 

Stauffer, John. “12 Years between Life and Death.” American Literary History 26.2 (2014): 317-
325. Project Muse. Web. 8 September 2014.

Tillet, Salamishah. “‘I Got No Comfort in This Life’: The Increasing Importance of Patsey in 
12 Years a Slave.” American Literary History 26.2 (2014): 354-361. Project Muse. Web. 8 
September 2014. 

35

Works Cited

Longenberger


