Our next selection this semester will continue to explore the overlapping complexities of race and gender that have been a central preoccupation of our work from Larsen through McCullers and Kerouac. The Bluest Eye was Toni Morrison's debut novel, first published in 1970, and an auspicious start to a literary career that would see her receive the rarest and most prestigious acclaims, including the Nobel Prize in Literature. When Morrison died this summer, it left a conspicuous void in American (and international) arts and letters that will not be easily filled.
In a foreword added in 1993, Morrison frames the novel as an exercise in empathy: "There can't be anyone, I am sure, who doesn't know what it feels like to be disliked, even rejected, momentarily or for sustained periods of time. Perhaps the feeling is merely indifference, mild annoyance, but it may also be hurt. It may even be that some of us know what it is like to be actually hated— hated for things we have no control over and cannot change." "When this happens," she continues, "it is some consolation to know that the dislike or hatred is unjustified—that you don't deserve it. And if you have the emotional strength and/or support from family and friends, the damage is reduced or erased. We think of it as the stress (minor or disabling) that is part of life as a human."
However, when working on The Bluest Eye, Morrison had a different sort of character in mind, specifically "the far more tragic and disabling consequences of accepting rejection as legitimate, as self-evident. I knew that some victims of powerful self-loathing turn out to be dangerous, violent, reproducing the enemy who has humiliated them over and over. Others surrender their identity; melt into a structure that delivers the strong persona they lack. Most others, however, grow beyond it. But there are some who collapse, silently, anonymously, with no voice to express or acknowledge it. They are invisible." This is especially true for children and for those at a disadvantage due to their circumstances. As a result, "[t]he project, then, for this, my first book, was to enter the life of the one least likely to withstand such damaging forces because of youth, gender, and race."
By Morrison's own admission, she "put the whole plot on the first page," and so we know that we will be in for a harrowing journey:
In a foreword added in 1993, Morrison frames the novel as an exercise in empathy: "There can't be anyone, I am sure, who doesn't know what it feels like to be disliked, even rejected, momentarily or for sustained periods of time. Perhaps the feeling is merely indifference, mild annoyance, but it may also be hurt. It may even be that some of us know what it is like to be actually hated— hated for things we have no control over and cannot change." "When this happens," she continues, "it is some consolation to know that the dislike or hatred is unjustified—that you don't deserve it. And if you have the emotional strength and/or support from family and friends, the damage is reduced or erased. We think of it as the stress (minor or disabling) that is part of life as a human."
However, when working on The Bluest Eye, Morrison had a different sort of character in mind, specifically "the far more tragic and disabling consequences of accepting rejection as legitimate, as self-evident. I knew that some victims of powerful self-loathing turn out to be dangerous, violent, reproducing the enemy who has humiliated them over and over. Others surrender their identity; melt into a structure that delivers the strong persona they lack. Most others, however, grow beyond it. But there are some who collapse, silently, anonymously, with no voice to express or acknowledge it. They are invisible." This is especially true for children and for those at a disadvantage due to their circumstances. As a result, "[t]he project, then, for this, my first book, was to enter the life of the one least likely to withstand such damaging forces because of youth, gender, and race."
By Morrison's own admission, she "put the whole plot on the first page," and so we know that we will be in for a harrowing journey:
Quiet as it's kept, there were no marigolds in the fall of 1941. We thought, at the time, that it was because Pecola was having her father's baby that the marigolds did not grow. A little examination and much less melancholy would have proved to us that our seeds were not the only ones that did not sprout; nobody's did. Not even the gardens fronting the lake showed marigolds that year. But so deeply concerned were we with the health and safe delivery of Pecola's baby we could think of nothing but our own magic: if we planted the seeds, and said the right words over them, they would blossom, and everything would be all right.If you're familiar with Morrison's writing, then you know that the tradeoff for enduring these heavy themes is a gorgeous lyrical voice that offers us compelling characters and deeply-felt insights into the human condition. That, of course, is why her work has been cherished for generations, and also why practically any other author on our reading list could be swapped out for someone else, but I'd never imagine teaching a course on 20th century US literature without including Morrison.
We've been moving at a good clip throughout the semester, but since The Bluest Eye is a little longer, we'll add one additional class, and also have fall break to stretch things out a little. Here's our schedule:
- Tues. October 8: Foreword and Autumn
- Thurs. October 10: No Class — Fall Reading Days
- Tues. October 15: Winter and the first two sections of Spring (up to 131)
- Thurs. October 17: Spring (section starting SEEFATHERHEISBIGANDSTRONG... on 132 to 163)
- Tues. October 22: Spring (section starting SEETHEDOGBOWWOWGOESTHEDOG... on 164) and Summer
Finally, here are a few links that might be helpful:
- The New York Times review by John Leonard [link]
- "Toni Morrison, Towering Novelist of the Black Experience, Dies at 88," from The Times [link]
- Time Magazine: 10 Questions for Morrison [link]
- Laila Lalami, "On Beauty: Banning Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye" [link]
- "It's Cold! Give Toni Morrison More Shawls" [link]
Dasia asks:
ReplyDeleteQuestion 1: At the end of chapter 3, Morrison writes, “It had occurred to Pecola some time ago that if her eyes, those eyes that held the pictures, and knew the sights—if those eyes of hers were different, that is to say, beautiful, she herself would be different.” Is Pecola’s desire to have blue eyes because she wants to match societal standards of a perceived “superior race” or is her desire to gain power over her life?
Question 2: In the foreword, Morrison writes, “Our innocence and faith were no more productive than than his lust or despair. What is clear now is that of all of that hope, fear, lust, love, and grief, nothing remains but Pecola and the unyielding earth.” What does this imply?
Ian asks:
ReplyDeleteWhat do you think is the significance of the author, Toni Morrison, changing the perspective of the main character, Pecola Breedlove, to another character’s or place?
Pacola states that she loves the prostitutes. Do you think she sees these characters as role models? Do you think that she considers these characters to be the only adults to treat her with maturity? If so do you thinks that why she likes them so much?
Question 1: On page 74 Morrison writes, "And all the time we knew that Maureen Peal was not the Enemy and not worthy of such intense hatred. The Thing to fear was the Thing that made her beautiful, and not us". What is the Thing Morrison is referring to here and how does it make Maureen more beautiful than Claudia, Frieda, and Pecola?
ReplyDeleteQuestion 2: All three girls (Claudia, Frieda, and Pecola) elude to seeing themselves in Miss Marie. How does this show the readers how each girl sees herself in respect to the rest of society?
Fruit takes an interesting roll; the watermelon breaking on page 134 in the description of God and the Devil, peach pie being the cause of Aunt Jimmy's death, and grapes in the woods. What is fruit a symbol for? Do each of these fruits have a separate symbolism, or are they all connected?
ReplyDeleteAre we supposed to feel bad for Cholly? Do you?
From Emily Kozak^^^
Delete1. Why does Toni Morrison choose to narrate the rape scene from Cholly’s point of view? How does this affect our opinion of Cholly as readers? How does this connect to a bigger theme of Morrison’s—empathy and understanding why people behave the way they do— and what point is she trying to make?
ReplyDelete2. After reading Cholly’s narrative, freedom has become an evident theme/idea. Reflecting on all the different narratives, especially Cholly’s, how does freedom affect the lives of black individuals?
1. What is the meaning of the 'See Jane run' sequences throughout the novel?
ReplyDelete2. Discuss the rapid dialogue that occurs near the end between Pecola and what appears to be an imaginary friend. What can you pull out from this scene and what is its purpose?
Bonus (because I'm curious): Sammy is a character in the story, but plays a very minor role in the story (if even at all). Why do you think that is?
^ by Kaitlyn Dwenger
ReplyDeleteJake's questions:
ReplyDeleteWhy do you think that only the prostitutes and Frieda are described as ruined? The word seemed oddly absent in the description of Pecola after she was raped by her father. WHat does it mean for a woman to be “ruined”?
Claudia never breaks from using first person plural pronouns in the final paragraphs of the novel when describing the way the community mistreated and used Pecola so that they could feel better about herself. How does this, coupled with the list of bad kinds of love “Wicked people love wickedly, etc.” recontextualize Claudia’s narration of events?