Sethe's Crime. Maybe.

Reading about the truth of the crawling already? baby's death (finally) came as a bit of a shock. It made me see Sethe differently, although not quite as differently as one might think after hearing that she murdered her baby daughter. The circumstances surrounding the murder made me feel more pity for Sethe, rather than see her as conniving and evil. In fact, I felt like this was the scene in which we as readers were able to understand Sethe the best. Having not had much of the novel from her point of view, it was she committed this act of love and desperation that we were most able to get inside her head and understand what the heck is going on with her. Up until this point, I saw Sethe as a pretty warm, open and friendly person, though I knew she a dark past. It was very confusing trying to figure out how these two aspects of her character fit together, and the conclusion that I came to was that her friendly personality was a mask for a crazed maniac that was bottled up in her innards. But it turned out to be almost the opposite: her past actions proved her to be more loving than she ever acted after The Misery. In all honesty, her split-second decision to protect her children at all costs was extremely impressive, if unexpected in the interpretation of "protection." But I see her point of view. Those children would never have a hope of escaping Schoolteacher's cruelty once they were in his grasp, because there was something about them that he could not forgive: they must have injured his pride by successfully escaping. He must have wanted them back at all costs. I feel that, were they to return to Sweet Home he would be harder on them than the slaves who were used to the "light touch" of the Garners.

Yet, making such a decision must have been incredibly difficult. In a way, Sethe is kind of a hero. She was able to complete an utterly self-sacrificing and altruistic act, and decide to do so in a split second without thinking twice about what it would do to her emotionally, and how it would affect her for the rest of her life. She suffered as a result: her baby was gone, and she would be forever ostracized by those who knew the truth. Yet, even through this, I think I respect her, because she is a very "no regrets" kind of person. She feels no guilt over what she did, and would do it again. It. Cutting off her two-year-old daughter's head. That's hard to say. But she would do it again. It saved her other children and their freedom, and no one would ever be able to touch Beloved. She loved those babies so much that she make damn sure that no one would ever hurt them or break them the way they did her, the Pauls, Sixo, and especially Halle. If possible, reading this scene makes me like Sethe more than I ever did before, because I don't think many people would have the strength to do what she did. Of course, this is completely messing with my head because I am rooting for a baby-killer, but her circumstances left her no other option.

Run Mourner Run: Was Dean in the wrong? (Also what the heck does race have to do with this story?)

           In class we had a lively discussion, but we never really got a chance to debate what to me seemed like one of the most crucial questions: Was Dean wrong to have slept with Ray? The obvious answer would be yes--he put on a two-faced act and ended up betraying the person he loved by aiding and abetting blackmail. He felt enormously guilty after the fact, shown when he lays in bed and just contemplates everything he did and how it turned out so badly. And, in the end he never makes too much of a fuss about not getting the money and promotion for Terrell because he both realizes that he was foolish to believe that Terrell would ever be that outlandishly generous, while also feeling (I believe) like he deserved what he got for treating Ray the way he did.

 

            But did he? Breaking this issue down, I can't help but notice that this is a prime example of "desperate times call for desperate measures" as his mother was sick, there were bills piling up, and no food. An offer such as Percy Terrell's must have sparked a glimmer of hope in him that he would have done anything to keep. After all, Terrell's request must not have been so outrageous to a boy (excuse me-- 23 year old "man") who is familiar with selling himself. This was just one more client; only this was different because the purpose of Dean's future encounter with Ray was to have a malicious intent, thanks to Terrell. This really was different--something to legitimately feel guilty over. Yes, Dean only met with Ray initially to seduce him for relatively dark purposes (at least on Terrell's end, because Dean only needed money: not a malignant hope). But, after just one short conversation, Dean fell in love with Ray, attracted to not only his body but his slightly pretentious intelligence and worldliness--the complete opposite of the "white trash" that Dean sees himself as. So from that point of view, could Dean having sex with Ray be just the innocent hookup of a smitten young man? He all but forgot the reason behind it (though he never knew the full extent of Percy's motives) and merely enjoyed all of the time that he was able to spend with Ray before the catastrophe of the revealed plot occurred. I don't blame him, but I can see how Ray would be offended that he seemed a double agent. 

           

            On another note, I think race is a significant factor in this story, which can be seen as the motive for the entire plot. Terrell's reasons for wanting to blackmail Ray are certainly sketchy and transparently in only his own interest, as he wouldn't want any competing landowners. Yet judging by his violent and prejudice tendencies towards Dean, I would guess that Percy Terrell is something along the lines of a raging racist. The feelings he has towards African Americans do not allow for any black person to come close to being his superior, and therefore a power struggle ensues. By getting one of his henchmen into bed with Ray (or at least have it done on his terms) Terrell gets as close emotionally to raping Ray as he can, by essentially having this sort of sexual power over him.

           

            This ties back to Dean’s guilt, because I think he realizes the implications of what he has done when he is lying in bed thinking about Ray and knowing that it is too late. But, its unfortunate (though realistic) that he never got to explain the situation to Ray, who had to be hurting while leading his double life.

"Style Wars" Reactions

"Style Wars" was the source of a lot of controversy in my day today. As a self-proclaimed artist, I fully hold the position that graffiti ultimately does no one harm, and should therefore be left alone. I am not saying legalize it, but I just do not see the problem with it. In my view, there are three types of graffiti: murals, tags, and offensive language. Graffiti murals are some of the most expressive and colorful paintings done in modern art, and can be provocative, rebellious, and generally make things more beautiful and interesting. They can spice up a dirty street corner or an old rusty subway car, and I take umbrage with anyone who uses the word "defacing" when describing these. Tags, while maybe not being the prettiest or most interesting, are still a part of a subculture that most people ignore on a regular basis because they don't have much money and zilch opportunities but that should be heard. I think it is extremely elitist and pretentious to deprive people of a chance to make their mark on the world and maybe do something with their lives when some might not have much other chance to.  Offensive language and derogatory slurs may be put up along with tags and murals, but seriously, if this is the reason people want to get rid of graffiti then they might as well not stick their heads out of the door in the morning or listen to music or read the newspaper because nasty things are everywhere and censorship of an art form really wont change that much.

Not only is graffiti colorful and expressive, but it can also provide social commentary. The vigilante artist Banksy is considered one of the most prominent of these opinionated graffiti artists, who has murals around the world that depict things from memorable movie scenes to a young girl patting down an Israeli soldier. Banksy's identity is still unknown today, though he is apparently being sought by the authorities to pay for his uncensored street art. This is graffiti like any other, in fact it may even be uglier than the murals put up by street artists on subways, but unlike the sometimes scribbly tags or distinctive murals which are associated with African American culture, these, having an obvious meaning to people outside of "the know" are generally met with more enthusiasm. I think that this attitude is rather stupid, because in a way it is prejudice: people automatically dislike what they do not understand. 

 Another example of this phenomenon is on the Berlin Wall: after 1989, what remained of the wall was decorated by local artists who visually commented on the political situation. One of the more famous of these murals include an enormous blue car crashing through the wall, symbolizing the destruction of the division of the city. This is a double-sided mural; the back end of the car is shown on the East Berlin side of the wall. Another depicts a mash of faces upside down and sideways, huddled together but very intricate and colorful. This mural stretches on and on, and is really an amazing piece.

My bedroom! Not quite done yet though.

 I love the idea of graffiti, and though I know that I will never be a part of that subculture or fully understand the reasons that they put their art up, the methods of doing it and the risks involved, simply because I was born very privileged, I still would love to put up a mural somewhere one day, just to support the idea of graffiti and maybe try and stop every attack that calls it "ugly" and "defacing public property." I had the exact same discussion with my parents that we had in class, and they took the more conservative view for once in their lives which completely surprised me. They even used the exact same phrase: "How would you like it if someone our an enormous mural on our house?" I said bring it, because I have already done one (halfway anyways) in my bedroom and I am itching to start another, so they better fear for our front porch in the middle of the night...

Image sources: 

subway: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/05/Rome_subway_graffiti.jpg

Banksy: http://www.toptenz.net/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/17banksyES_468x606.jpg

Berlin wall: http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5009/5343443481_63e7f0ef3f.jpg

Gunnar is one odd bloke

         Gunnar Kaufman: affectionate son and brother, gang member, basketball star, poet, messiah, how can one person embody so many personas? This is one character that it is almost impossible not to like throughout the novel, even after he inadvertently convinces hundreds of people to commit suicide and shows no remorse for doing so. But his voice, with varying tones from "pardon me old bean" to "whadda sunovabitch"who can switch from jocular to intellectual to "hood" and back again four times in one sentence, is entrancing. I do indeed believe that this voice is ultimately what leads him to be the radical revolutionary figure that he is in the final chapter. Because this guy really just does not think like your everyday person on the street.

         I mean first of all, he was raised by some stunningly unique characters: a mother who can stuff a condom up her nose at the dinner table and say "Ta-da!" (one of the more staying anecdotes) and a father who may be a little like Bledsoe in that he seems ashamed that he is black, and therefore spends his days arresting other black people and palling with the white officers, imitating their tactics of beating young black men without cause. And perhaps this upbringing, from his unique role in Santa Monica environment to a temporarily solitary existence in Hillside before befriending the ultimate hipster, Mr. Nicholas Scoby, and once again becoming an idol. Something about Gunnar, (and I suspect that it had something to do with the way he talked) drew everyone to him. Now, unlike most teenage males who with this amount of attention would have an ego big enough to have a house of its own, Gunnar seems almost ashamed of his popularity, like he did not think he deserved it. In class someone brought up the idea that this was because he did not have to work at basketball like he did for poetry: his actual passion. But I think Gunnar would have been known widely even without his mad hops. And I think that one of the reasons he was so uncomfortable with all of the constant attention on him was for the reason he freely admitted: "I really don't give a fuck." Sure, he has opinions, but most of them concern only his own feelings and actions. For a prophet-messiah-black Jesus-like character he sure is self absorbed. But again, that is part of his appeal. He doesn't directly tell anyone to do anything, he's merely spit-balling ideas for himself.

        One part of the novel that sort of epitomized Gunnar's facetious and lovable weirdness for me was that he actually accepted Yoshiko into his life. I seriously thought Psycho Loco was completely kidding in an initiation/older brother "We need to get you laid" kind of way, and then whaddaya know, he has gone and actually ordered and paid for a human being on the black market. Now of course we expect Gunnar to refuse her because he's not in love with her, it's immoral, blah blah blah. Or maybe he'll accept her, but never really talk to her and have her stay in the background. But once again he utterly stunned me when he falls for this "Hot Mama-San of the Orient" who reminds him of his mother and has an odd fascination with his butt.

      But the more weirdness that falls out of this guy's words and actions, the more I love him as character. He has a charisma that kind of makes him irresistibly likeable, and I think this is what leads him to his final uprising. Or is it a downfall? I mean, he probably is going to die...
Yes, I am going to go with downfall. Because his final speech left me with a lot of questions, and if I were black I'm not sure I'd be willing to just down some suspicious grape Kool-Aid without asking any further questions. (More on this later).

Janie and The Color Purple

         Well I have no idea if any of you have ever read The Color Purple by Alice Walker, but she was the person who is quoted on the front of Their Eyes Were Watching God as saying "There is no book more important to me than this one." The funny thing is, I happened to be reading The Color Purple simultaneously and completely coincidentally. I was extremely enthralled at the odds. Anyway, reading both novels at the same time (though I haven't finished the Alice Walker yet) made me see some eerie similarities (also HUGE differences) between Celie and Janie. Their names are the first one because I kept getting them mixed up in my mind, but that is the most minor.

          Both Janie and Celie are exposed to difficult situations when they are very young (our age) but they handle their situations very differently. They are married off to people that they do not know well very suddenly, and for the good of other people: Janie's Nanny's peace of mind, and in Celie's case, to keep Mr. ------- from her young, smart, and beautiful sister Nettie. But while Logan Killicks and Mr. ------- react to their new wives similarly (a general lack of appreciation, though Mr. ------ goes much farther down this road than Killicks ever did--he also surpasses Joe Starks), Janie shows much more obvious strength and independence that Celie does initially. She walks out on Killicks because she knows what she wants. Celie, meanwhile, is stubborn and selfless, but her fiery streak takes more prodding to activate than Janie's. She was determinately placid for most of the novel (of what I have read so far) until she found all of Nettie's letters that Mr. ------ had been keeping from her to convince her that Nettie was dead. After a few death threats she was calmed temporarily by Shug, the only person besides Nettie that she ever loved, whereas if Janie were in the same situation I am not sure she would have been calmed. I think that this varying aspect of their personalities comes from their polar childhoods. Janie, raised by her Nanny and a companion to white children, was allowed to daydream and have an actual childhood, while Celie meanwhile was the matriarch of her large family for most of her childhood in addition to dealing with her sexually abusive father, whose actions suppressed her spirit for the longest time.

        A lot of what drives both of these characters is their need to be loved, and both find ways to make this happen, but the ways in which they go about it seem to embody their personalities. Janie, who has had man after her her entire life, had no issue finding someone to love her, but rather the right someone. Janie had to stick up for what she wanted when everyone around her mistrusted her judgment and her chosen partner, the much-younger Tea Cake. She had to fight to get what she wanted. Celie, on the other hand, had been told her entire life that she was ugly and stupid, once again took the more passive route and found love elsewhere than her marriage. Having heard stories of elusive and exotic Shug Avery, the love of Mr. -------'s life, she too was enamored with this figure, even when the wealthy singer showed her nothing contempt and hatred for stealing her man. Shug eventually did come to love Celie, her primary caretaker, and when they slept together Celie was genuinely happy for what was probably the first time in her life. She never submitted to others' idea that she was too ugly and stupid to be loved, and so she fought this notion her own way.

        I know that both of these characters are incredibly strong to survive what each went through and not be a vegetable, (Janie having to murder her husband; Celie being raped and impregnated by her father) but I still marvel at how different their strengths manifest. In a way, Celie is even stronger than Janie, because while Janie has some snap, Celie bore everything in silence. And the novel isn't even over yet.

Go Janie Go

            Janie, the protagonist of Their Eyes Were Watching God, represents a strong, straight-backed feminist character. This being the first novel that we have read in class this year that is both written by a woman and starring one as well, I really appreciate her strength compared to that of Bessie or the ever-seducing female members of Ellison's Brotherhood. Not only did she feel that she had the right to carve out her own fate when she left Logan Killicks, but she later changed even that decision by finally standing up to the insecure Joe Starks who once treated her so nicely. Mr. Starks is the man who promised her the world and more and made her a figure to be admired around town as the mayor's wife, isolated her from the entire town by painting her as this aloof, conceited woman. It seems as if he is doing this on purpose, not only to enure that others see them as a power couple, but to discourage anyone from befriending Janie, and thus keeping her reliant on him. He keeps her under a lock and key; no allowing her to speak her mind in social discussions on the sore porch, rather asking her to fetch him things, such as his black shoes, because according to Joe Starks, that is a woman's job. His control complex becomes even more obvious as they both age, and he makes continuous negative comments about her looks: putting her down so that he can feel better about his receding hairline and large saggy stomach.

           This all comes crashing down on him when it builds up to a breaking point for Janie, so that she can either retain an ounce of pride or submit to him entirely, and due to her strength she chooses the first option. Her comment of retaliation, which insulted a part of his anatomy that he formerly took pride in, had me as a reader egging her on and rooting for her entirely. In fact, this display of fiestiness reminded me very strongly of Zora Neale Hurston herself. It was not surprising to find a lot of herself in her character because there are obvious parallels between her life and Janie's, (such as both of them living in a tiny all-black town in Florida called Eatonville). In "Jump at the Sun" they mentioned that Zora could do tricks with the way she spoke, going from the accented, typically African American dialect to practically professorial English and back again. This is also evident in her novel, because the narration does exactly the same thing.

 There were some people who expressed the idea that because Janie disregarded "all" that Logan Killicks had done for her and ran off with Joe Starks, she was spoiled (thereby agreeing with Killicks). I disagree, mainly on the point that she never really agreed to marry him, and she wasn't happy there. Her life living in the back yard of a white family's house was not what you would call idyllic, but, like most girls of her age, she wasn't used to doing hard physical labor every day in addition to house chores. Her disgust for Logan may not have been entirely warranted on his half, but Janie deserved to be happy, and by her definition, not just her well-meaning Nanny's.

To anyone who thinks Janie is spoiled: when was the last time you worked all day behind a plow?

(Backtracking) The Blindness of Brother Jack

           I just discovered some symbolism from Invisible Man that I hadn't noticed the first time around, but if everyone else already did, then just humor me here. Brother Jack only has one eye. This could be referencing his "blindness" when it comes to the narrator. He doesn't really see the narrator as his own person, rather as a tool with excellent speaking skills and the right amount of pigment in his skin to use him to get some (controlled) amount of equality, (or at least keep up the front that that is what he wants). The narrator is totally invisible to Brother Jack just as he is to everyone else in the novel, but this conceited puffed-up dictator (of an "equality" organization--how ironic) literally cannot see him.
       
          So not only is Brother Jack blind, in a sense, but the narrator finds his habit of popping his eye out in a very Mad-Eye Moody way utterly repulsive. This is an addition to the outlandish and often grotesque images that Ellison enjoys throwing in to knock off any pretense of realism that the reader might have been coming in with.Because he discovers this right about the time that he sees the true nature of the Brotherhood's motives, this scene nicely accentuates his disgust for the inner workings of the organization. How graphic the descriptions of his gross empty eye socket are rounds off the feeling of disgust with a nice side-helping of nausea, just in case the readers weren't feeling quite as upset with the Brotherhood as the narrator was.

You're a crafty man, Ellison.

All right mister, is this really happy?

So I was pondering the ending of Invisible Man, and I can't help but notice how the narrator has ended up in quite the lose-lose situation here. He has achieved this total freedom of the opinions and judgments of others, but only because he never sees anyone else! Is being this "free" really worth the cost? So I guess the big question is whether or not we can read this as a happy ending.

When the narrator first descends into a hole, it was an unintentional result of an intense chase scene, but having fallen he sees that he was in a hole for his entire life. The narrator seems content with the situation, but is this really different from any other time in the book when he was happy and satisfied and we as readers were screaming at him to wake up and smell the coffee, or at least smell reality?

Irving Howe criticized this novel because he felt that the ending came far to suddenly: like "Oh I just fell this random manhole into the absolute darkness, which is just like my life, and I'm going to stay down here, because I don't really have a place in the world above, and I am going to 'find the light' with my light bulbs and paper torches, and it will be great." Well Mr. Howe, I happen to agree with you that the ending is sudden because it goes from intense chase to epilogue in 3.5 seconds, but I utterly disagree that this in any way takes away from the value of the novel. How you possibly expect anything else having read the rest of the book?  The entire thing has been a well-crafted jumble of events that do not seem to lead into one another on the surface, but do in fact convey a journey underneath. Each time the narrator exclaims that he has been enlightened and will no longer act as he has been, he gets one step closer to being the contemplative if slightly cynical figure in the warm hole. Even if he often still seems to resemble the naïve boy from the opening of the novel, his degree of naivety becomes continually less severe with each humiliating encounter he experiences.

So we return to the beginning question: is the end of this eye-opening journey actually a positive one for its sojourner? Nope not really. I think that the only way for this novel to end truly happily is for it to end unrealistically (yes the rest of the novel has avoided realism but not in the same sense—I mean a fairy-tale ending here). Let’s say that the narrator’s resurfacing was included in the ending, and he was received by everyone as being the lost hero and was finally allowed to control his own actions and was beloved and loved himself and everything was hunky-dory. This would be a happy (if sappy and sickening) ending, but he would still be subject to the opinions of everyone around him and incapable of truly being himself, as people would always only see what they want to see. So the happiest ending I can imagine, while impossible, is also not really happy from the narrator’s point of view.

Therefore, you see Mr. Howe, the only way to end this novel was the way that Ellison did: an ambiguous and ironic situation. He can either be free, or social; invisible, or trapped in a basement; alone, or misunderstood, and not one of these options will really lead him to happiness. I think the best we can hope for is for the narrator to be content with his singular existence. Even the promise of a resurfacing doesn’t seem like it can be all that positive if all he can do is start over with a bit more knowledge and a wider pair of eyes. Yikes.

Unnamed and Bigger Rats

          While in class today, we brought up the ironic way that the narrator is had totally renounced his dream of being Bledsoe and truly believes that he is making his won way in the world--forging his own deer path. He has gotten away from the college (though not of his own free will) and gotten this radical new job (again not really his own doing) and is now acting spokesman for the Harlem chapter of this enigmatic-ideologied "Brotherhood" raising hell for the policemen and riots everywhere--but not of his own free will. He is acting according to the mask (and name) that have been assigned to him. So, he's furious with Bledsoe for the expulsion and rather uncouth letters, and is determined to get revenge (he dumps a spittoon over the head of an unfortunate reverend who vaguely resembles the headmaster) and while he tries to not be like him he still has this obsession with Bledsoe's character. He keeps a similar piece of memorabilia on his desk, and considers investing in a matching Bledsoe homburg hat. He cannot get rid of this man's character, whether he ends up despising it or emulating it,  he cannot shake it.
          
           In this sense the narrator resembles Bigger very strongly. He is caught in the same maze like a rat; having little control over where he is and what he does and even who he is, everything seems predetermined to go sour for him, even when he does everything right. (This is part of what makes the novel seem Kafkaesque--dreamlike in that everything goes smoothly then suddenly collapses without cause and ridiculous things happen to the poor bugger). Anyway, I just think that both just have some serious issues with control in their lives--though its kind of funny: we know the ending prematurely in both cases and at least this situation works out better for our narrator than poor Bigger.

Trueblood's True Blood

           Chapter 2 of Invisible Man makes me cringe. This farmer, Trueblood, told his story and I think it was intended to cause this cringing (thanks Mr. Ellison) --though when you read certain parts like Mrs. Trueblood coming at the poor guy with an enormous axe ("Naw Kate, naw!") it does make you want to let out a guilty snigger in addition to the cringing. One person (of many) who takes this story extremely seriously is the important rather stuffed up character known as Mr. Norton, a white benefactor of the black college. He sits through the entire thing completely enraptured with this storytelling farmer, and while he considers the situation scandalous he wants to hear every scandalous detail. I have my theories why.
        
         Norton has this daughter who he describes as "being too pure for life...too pure and too good and too beautiful."(43). He can't known the narrator for more than an hour before whipping out her picture and forcing the poor driver to confirm her beauty and tragic story, so I think this is kind of a habit of his; to relate his social conversations to his daughter and show people his perfect "creation". He speaks of her more like a lover than a daughter, and though there's nothing explicit about his anecdotal speech to the narrator, there is an uncanny connection (foreshadowing?) to Trueblood's story, which is yet to come. I can't help but wonder if the awe he had for his daughter, "a work of purest art", was amplified by Trueblood's story, meaning that the farmer's retelling caused some not-so-skillfully repressed feelings toward her to be brought to the surface (more cringing). This could explain why he was listening so intently, horrified but intrigued; because he identified with Trueblood in that both had uncommonly intimate relationships with their daughters, spurring Norton to present Trueblood with a monetary gift. Ironically, though it seems to be Norton who notices his daughter and is attracted to her, poor Trueblood: victim of circumstance, is the one who is cast out by his company for having accidentally acted on feelings that he had never experienced, but Norton had. Just one more example about how the whites get away with everything. But, he is popular with most white men. Hmm. That gives me such confidence in the white race.

            Norton is not the only one who has an interest in the story. The narrator is totally freaked out by the entire situation. From his perspective, two things in his orderly world are being shattered, these being the upstanding and respectable ways of white people with their contempt for blacks, and that black people tend to wear masks of submissiveness and respect when speaking and dealing with whites. Norton ignores all pleasantries and uncharacteristically storms up to Trueblood, then listens to is story with such enrapture that in itself is almost scandalous. He then paternalistically presents Trueblood with a decent sum, (a reward for being outlandish in the eyes of the narrator), and, while shaken, does not view the farmer's behavior as a model for all black men, as the narrator thought he would. He takes of his mask of respectability.
Trueblood is being true to his name, and telling it like it is, scandalous and all, using minimal "sirs" and showing that he wears no mask of humility or trying constantly change the minds of white about their stereotypes and opinions of the way black people act. He lays his situation out openly on the table to be scrutinized by a strange white man without being explicitly asked, therefore defying the narrator's definition of how any black man should act around whites.

          Essentially, this story acts as much more than an interesting, slightly humorous, mostly cringe-worthy anecdote in this novel. It aided in "lifting the veil" over the narrator's eyes that showed everyone as one-dimensional drones who all think the same, and proved that most people (Trueblood excepted) wear masks that dictate their everyday actions.

Murder vs. Manslaughter

         After much discussion of the book Native Son in class and much reading and thought outside of class, I think it is important that the differentiation between what Bigger's crime versus Mary Dalton was and what the public perceived it to be. Distinguishing each can have a huge affect on how the reader sees Bigger and his actions, and ultimately change whether he is a sympathetic character or not. Most people who read the novel understand that when Bigger killed Mary it was wholly in the moment, yet it was not a crime of passion. Yes, his emotions (namely fear) took hold of him, but at the same time he did not understand that what he was doing was killing her. He was so utterly distracted by the threatening presence of Mrs. Dalton that he was therefore incapable of noticing the Mary was dying under the pillow beside him, making this manslaughter by modern terms. However, these readers (including us) continually refer to this as a straight murder. Even the readers who are intended to understand Bigger and maybe even sympathize with him speak out against him whenever this "murder" is mentioned.

        So what does that mean for us? We are influenced by the way Bigger saw the situation. His pride in breaking free of the nothingness his life had been so far caused him to view the predicament as being his fault (which it was) but having been done purposefully. He warped his memory to convince himself that something in him was protesting his situation. Therefore, I find myself and my peers referring to the incident incorrectly as murder. Fixing it in our minds that he purposefully took the life of another human being makes him look a heck of a lot more deserving of his fate than if we analyze the situation and remember that the whole thing was an accident. I find that I root for Bigger much more strongly when I remember that he had no choice. However, that sympathy and understanding turns to pity when I see how he struggles to take control of the only situation he can by convincing himself that he was unequivocally guilty.

          This brings us to the next reason that this difference is so important: Manslaughter implies that he had no choice and was destined for doom, while the cold-blooded murder Bigger is accused of can only be the result of free will.  The truth of the situation, (that this was an accident), supports the theme of literary naturalism in this book because if Bigger did not make the choice on his own to murder this girl and therefore determine his future, he must have been destined for the electric chair form the very beginning, as his mother told him. Thus, understanding and sympathy towards Bigger's situation grow further, as we realize that he was forced to commit murder by someone; we assume it was the social forces and racial inequalities, and is therefore far from self-butchering and merely an example of the toll these factors can have on a person's psyche.

          A call for distinction could definitely be sent to Wright's critics as well.  Burton Rascoe of American Mercury asserts that because Bigger is obviously a model of millions of black Americans and he uses murder and violence to settle his scores with whites, that Wright must be calling for these masses to rise up and act similarly. David L Cohn makes a similar claim. These two must not have read carefully enough, because when responding to the novel both spoke of the supposed murder as being purposeful, thus giving Bigger free will and turning him from the not-so-innocent pawn of larger forces into a bloodthirsty maniac who many people would support imposing the death penalty upon.

        Lastly, to touch on the unfairness and impossibility of Bigger's predicament one last time, I would like to point out that had this man been either of a different race or more modern time, he would have certainly been given the benefit of the distinction between murder and manslaughter. He would have been given a chance to say tell a jury that it was an accident (although....
a) he might not do so because of his warped memory (not even a direct choice-- Bigger is willless)
b) this situation would not have occured if either case were true
 Just saying, today the difference between sentences can be as broad as 8 years in prison and a fine versus the death penalty. It is just sad that no one, not even Mr. Max who actually knew the truth, and especially not Bigger himself, bothered to refer to this incident as an accident: manslaughter, not murder.

Protest Poems and Petty Populations

"Theme for English B" by Langston Hughes

            The other poems that we read by Steptoe and Durem were pretty straightforward protest poems; they disliked the idea of white poets or any poets for that matter ignoring the suffering of black people or trying to cast it in a lighter tone. They did it in such a way that it appeared that they were protesting in a violent way--the language was harsh and clipped, and it sounded as if they were yelling. In my opinion, while "Theme for English B" does not follow the same pattern as these two, or in fact most protest poems, it retains aspect of a protest, but without the attitude. The character speaking obviously has some quibbles in regards to the perceived equality of his white writing instructor and himself by the white population. Especially towards the end of the poem, these come out. He states "You are white--  /  but a part of me, as I am a part of you.  /  That's American." I interpreted this line to mean that he takes issue with the idea that is held by most of white America; that he and his instructor are in separate worlds and in no way comparable. Thus, here he is replacing this notion with a new one: we are both Americans and make up part of the population. We share many qualities and are therefore part of each other. Another part of the poem in which protest is evident is in the penultimate line, "[You are] slightly more free." In this case the speaker is merely stating the truth of the current ramifications of racial division. Again, this blunt representation of their varying statuses is a form of protest in that he is not being at all submissive to the norm, but rather speaking out truthfully. Therefore, I consider this poem to be a form of nonviolent protesting when compared to "To the Pale Poets" or "Three Legged Chair" because it represents the calm but persistent attitude of nonviolent protests during the civil rights movement.
     

           Interestingly, though, while the nonviolent protests of the past were more effective in making people with stubborn mindsets realize their wrongdoing than those that merely affirmed stereotypes, for me the more moving poems were those that smacked you in the face with images of living in poverty. However, I hope that the speaker's English instructor is enlightened enough to appreciate that the truth of how the speaker was feeling came out in the assignment (as was supposed to happen) rather than writing it off as insubordination.