Massachusetts resident and poet Catherine Sasanov was stunned to discover, while examining some family papers, that her Missouri ancestors had been slaveholders. A notation scribbled that Richard Steele, the poet’s great-great-great grandfather, “had slaves.” Had slaves: these two simple words, this vague phrase, set Sasanov off on a journey to discover all she could about her slaveholding ancestors.

Sasanov’s discoveries were compiled together, aided with some imagination, assumption, and educated guesses, into Had Slaves, winner of the Sentence Book Award, and the author’s third poetry collection. The compilation reads like a meticulously constructed scrap booking project: artifacts from family paperwork, snippets from actual interviews with slaveholders and slaves, song lyrics, book passages, even lines quoted from objects found in the Jim Crow Museum. In fact, an entire section of the collection is entitled “In the Jim Crow Museum,” devoted to objects of “racist memorabilia” found within. Sasanov studied every bit of family information she could discover, and when that information began to lead to more questions than answers, she continued her research even further, reading slave testimonies, piecing together any fragment she could find.

Despite the useful records of her family that Sasanov discovered, the poet was left wondering exactly who these eleven slaves of Richard Steele’s truly were. The collection traces her struggle to discover information about her great-great-great grandfather’s slaves, showing Sasanov’s ambivalence and apprehension to learn about the reality of her family’s history. Using her imaginative skills, Sasanov imbues life into “Flora, Ben, Eliza, George, Alex, Henderson, Henry, Edmund, Isaac, Daniel, and Easter,” the Steele family slaves.

The vulnerability that Sasanov immediately displays allows the reader to feel as though he has been given an intimate look into private family matters; we are on the road to discovery along with Sasanov, shocked at the findings that she too was astonished by, amazed by the poet’s strength and willingness to learn all she can about her ancestors—even the most horrifying facts. Even more impressive than Sasanov’s desire for knowledge is her eagerness to share these personal details with the impersonal reader.

Sasanov’s exploration of her family’s past is visually represented by the author’s mix of various poetic styles: triadic line, prose passages, couplets, and tercets, to name just a few. The poet experiments with rhyme schemes, italicization, and spatiality; some pages are left intentionally blank, others contain just a few words purposely justified to the left or the right. Sasanov’s exploratory methods in Had Slaves are another indication of the writer’s vulnerability, unfamiliarity, and willingness to explore; just as she eagerly researches her family’s history, without fully knowing what she will discover, Sasanov experiments with her poems and writing styles in this collection. It feels innovative and brave, much like Sasanov and her project themselves.

The poet, even by using sparse and concise language, shows the reader what the collection intends to do; one of the first passages is entitled “Primary Sources,” and in it, Sasanov says, “Here, even the fragments must be pieced together—so let me follow you to the paper’s edge until you disappear.” This poem seems to serve as an acknowledgment to readers, as if to say that even when examining primary sources—the records of Sasanov’s great-great-great grandfather and his slaves—the history of her family remains scattered, a bit fuzzy, and in need of some glue to piece everything together. The glue is Sasanov’s imagination, based on primary and secondary sources, as well as her own creative thought. It is this glue that holds Had Slaves together, that takes it from an assortment of random information and turns it into a both a creative piece of family genealogy and a work of poetic art.

But it is this delving into the history of her family and their slaves, the crucial component in turning Had Slaves into a unique collection, which makes Sasanov ambivalent, apologetic, and apprehensive. Sasanov wonders, in a poem entitled “His Personal Property: Inventory and Appraisal Sheet, 1860,” “…what right do I have to track you down?” The author seems to feel both an obligation to reveal the truth of the slaveholding Steele family, and an anxious concern that she is disrespecting the dead: “Forgive me for exhuming yours,” Sasanov says, of the slaves’ history.

One such slave whose history is exhumed is Eliza, who, as depicted by Sasanov, was forced to perform as “breeding stock,” like a “filly, maybe [a] mare.” As Sasanov explains in the book’s addendum, “A woman who regularly gave birth not only recouped her owner’s original investment in her, but also multiplied his wealth.” This depiction of Eliza as the bountiful, child-bearing slave is an identity created by Sasanov, as based on actual slave testimonies and the family papers she was able to unearth.

There are moments when Sasanov’s quest for knowledge of the Steele family does seem invasive; when Sasanov writes, in a manner that reads as a hushed whisper, “I would pry you out with this sheet of paper, give you back to your wife, your kids. I would pry you out with a sheet of paper, George Steele, please, tell me where to dig,” the reader is overwhelmed by Sasanov’s compassion and conviction. She is so disturbed by the discovery of her family’s slaveholding past, so committed to exploring and appreciating the history of each forgotten slave, that she occasionally comes across as forceful, aggressive, persistent. But, should fault be found in this? Should Sasanov be commended for such an ambitious undertaking? Can the reader understand her relentless passion?

The answer, to all of these questions, is a resounding yes. Yes, fault can be found in Sasanov’s ambitious project—some readers might find her research to be invasive and meddling in business that is not entirely her own: after all, these slaves were people with histories and lives entirely separate from the Steele family, but instead of celebrating their unique histories, Sasanov forces them to be forever associated with her own family, refusing to separate their own history from her family’s.

Nonetheless, Had Slaves is an ambitious, innovative endeavor, one that feels less like a poetry collection and more like a glimpse into Sasanov’s mind and her family’s past. The reader witnesses the wide array of emotions Sasanov experienced throughout the research and creation of this project, and we are left feeling as though we know the author, we understand her concerns, and we too feel ambivalent about both her family’s history and her decision to develop a project based on it.

If Sasanov continues to feel disturbed by her family’s slaveholding history, she should know this: she is as far separated from the Steele’s as is possible. Her compassion for the Steele family slaves is nothing that Richard Steele, who bequeathed slaves unto his grandchildren in his will, could ever understand. She is of the same blood as the Steele family, a fact that makes her feel overwhelmed with confusion and sorrow, but she is a different kind of person. Her compassion, her vulnerability, and her love are palpable—Had Slaves is so much more than just a poetry collection, and Catherine Sasanov is so much more than just another Steele family ancestor.