Beloved

 

Chamomile on the cover and chamomile sap on her legs. 

That's how this story begins, that's how the story is going to its inevitable end. Barefoot, without stockings and still so loud that you'll hear the ringing in your ears for some time after you've read the last page. 

Sethe is a black woman, living a free life with her daughter Denver. She wasn't born free and has early memories of her mother nursing others than her. The last memory of her is swinging from a tree branch with only a rope around her neck. Sethe never found out what happened. Her mother probably tried to escape but she never took Sethe with her. 

She remembers most about her time at Sweet Farm. Initially her thought are kept close and cloaked from us (the readers). It's veiled in horrified feelings that forewarn the reader that when she discloses her time there, it won't be fun reading. 
The novel actually starts with a haunting, its meaning equally veiled. The few things that are known is that the haunting is done by a young child, who isn't so pleased at being dead. By accident or not isn't known yet this early in the story. 

There's also Paul D, a man she met when they both worked at Sweet Farm and who scared the haunting spirit away the very first time he stepped into her house where she lives with Denver. He doesn't go and they become lovers soon after. Sethe lets her guard down and goes with Paul D. to the circus. When they come back, a girl is resting in their yard. Her name? Beloved. 

And then the misery starts. 

Because who is she? Where did she come from? What is she doing there? No satisfactory answers are given, but as readers you'll make a pretty good guess. (I'm not going to spoil what that will be)

The story progressed more and more into the madness that is silently lurking just beneath the skin of Sethe's hands. The Madness that was born at Sweet Farm and come into full bloom shortly after she deserted that place. 
As she fails to hold her place together we remember her past and present together with her and find out her horrendous past. With the shared memories, it's up to us to understand or condemn the decisions she has made. 

The Bluest Eye

The Bluest Eye, a novel about racism amongst black people. About the way black people see whiteness as better, cleaner, purer as they are.

Given the fact that this novel has been written 47 years ago, a lot has changed. Maybe not the fact that someone else seems to be more beautiful, but I mean that instead of putting white people upon a pedestal, they are acknowledged of having the same doubts and fears.

The novel centers around Pecola, a 11y old girl, who doesn’t speak up for herself until the very last chapter. We only follow her around through the eyes of others who have no inkling of the desire that is within her, to have the bluest eyes. Why that? Because everything around her is judged by appearance instead of merit, be it because of ignorance, temperance or plain stupidity.

Pecola Breedlove seems to be one unlucky girl, as she seems to be very ugly, a fact of which she is daily reminded by her surroundings. Her mother is a vindictive woman, clearly only capable of giving love to something she could never have. Her father a good-for-nothing man that blamed the women in his life for his surrender to the ‘white’ men. She is a naïve little girl, thinking that having blue eyes would make her life better, instead of trying to be happy with what she is. In the end, she’s deluded herself of having those eyes, possibly the mistreatment of her family has been too much for her mind to bear.

Understanding this novel wasn’t too hard, because of the explanatory note at the end. It’s a novel about being blind to yourself, while staring at what someone else has. Of course this isn’t a feat exclusive for black people. I think most of the people walking this earth wish to be someone they’re not, because being yourself and being happy about that, has been turned into settling and being at peace instead of just being happy. It always feels like a sacrifice, as if choosing to be  yourself is giving up being a hundred others.

This novel didn’t leave as much a mark as I thought it would be. Partly because the manner in which Pecola’s story is told, is distant and without emotion or without the right emotion. Anger where there should be compassion. Shame where there should be soothing and disdain where there should be happiness. I felt like I got to know the poor child through the gossiping of others and that never gives you the true meaning of what went on.
The other thing that bothered me was the child molestation. I’m not sure why that was included. I’m not a prude, far from it, but in this novel it didn’t add to the whole. Pecola being raped by her father and carrying his baby afterward, the local ‘guru’ trying to explain why he loves children and loves nibbling on their breasts and blaming god for his behavior. I know that this happens, but mostly it doesn’t happen to the unhappiest girl, it could happen to anyone. This just seemed piling up the bad stuff and didn’t add anything other than neon lighting the state she was already in, the pariah she was destined to be.