Beloved by Toni MorrisonBy Alix Wilber
In the troubled years following the Civil War, the spirit of a murdered
child haunts the Ohio home of a former slave. This angry, destructive
ghost breaks mirrors, leaves its fingerprints in cake icing, and generally
makes life difficult for Sethe and her family; nevertheless, the woman
finds the haunting oddly comforting for the spirit is that of her own dead
baby, never named, thought of only as Beloved.
A dead child, a runaway slave, a terrible secret--these are the central
concerns of Toni Morrison's Pulitzer Prize-winning Beloved.
Morrison, a Nobel laureate, has written many fine novels, including Song
of Solomon, The
Bluest Eye, and Paradise--but
Beloved is arguably her best. To modern readers, antebellum slavery
is a subject so familiar that it is almost impossible to render its
horrors in a way that seems neither clichéd nor melodramatic. Rapes,
beatings, murders, and mutilations are recounted here, but they belong to
characters so precisely drawn that the tragedy remains individual,
terrifying to us because it is terrifying to the sufferer. And Morrison is
master of the telling detail: in the bit, for example, a punishing
piece of headgear used to discipline recalcitrant slaves, she manages to
encapsulate all of slavery's many cruelties into one apt symbol--a device
that deprives its wearer of speech. "Days after it was taken out,
goose fat was rubbed on the corners of the mouth but nothing to soothe the
tongue or take the wildness out of the eye." Most importantly, the
language here, while often lyrical, is never overheated. Even as she
recalls the cruelties visited upon her while a slave, Sethe is evocative
without being overemotional: "Add my husband to it, watching, above
me in the loft--hiding close by--the one place he thought no one would
look for him, looking down on what I couldn't look at at all. And not
stopping them--looking and letting it happen.... And if he was that broken
then, then he is also and certainly dead now." Even the supernatural
is treated as an ordinary fact of life: "Not a house in the country
ain't packed to its rafters with some dead Negro's grief. We lucky this
ghost is a baby," comments Sethe's mother-in-law.
Beloved is a dense, complex novel that yields up its secrets one
by one. As Morrison takes us deeper into Sethe's history and her memories,
the horrifying circumstances of her baby's death start to make terrible
sense. And as past meets present in the shape of a mysterious young woman
about the same age as Sethe's daughter would have been, the narrative
builds inexorably to its powerful, painful conclusion. Beloved may
well be the defining novel of slavery in America, the one that all
others will be measured by. |