"Stars just throb and throb and throb and sometimes, when they can't throb anymore, when they can't hold it anymore, they fall out of the sky."

Usually I'm okay with the race issue, but the way it was presented in Tar Baby didn't thrill me. I just realized I'm not sure whether the character of Jadine is black or mixed, I just know that she is light skinned. Regardless, she represents what I think is a misrepresentation of most mixed people, as well as educated black people. Yes, it's true that there are some people of color who use education as a means of disassociating themselves with their culture. Yes, Jadine sees the world, and is given the gift of education by a white man while her aunt and uncle serve in his house. But that doesn't make her a traitor to her family and her race. I felt like it was very easy for Morrison to go ahead and give Jadine a bad connotation simply because of her opportunities.

Funny, I feel like I can identify with Jadine even though I'm in no way a model, nor have I ever been to Paris. However, I think it's a crime to be uneducated, especially with the amount of resources available to people in order to learn. I have lived my life around a lot of uneducated black people and I just can't wrap my mind around living that way. So I've acquired education and I refuse to be ashamed of that. And I'm not sure exactly what it is, but apparently, somehow by being educated I've distanced myself from the African-American race. I've been accused of 'not being black,' being an 'Oreo,' and even hating black people, many times. But why is that the way it is? I don't understand how being educated is white, and being uneducated, or seeming to be so, is black. That sounds so, so stupid. It is so, so stupid. And because being black is associated with being uneducated, I've wrongfully been accused of avoiding black people, when really it's uneducated people I find not worthy of my time.

Tar Baby has many other interesting aspects, specifically the relationships between whites and blacks, between men and women, and among blacks themselves. I feel that it is definitely a book I will have to read again later in my life. Maybe I'll understand it more.

If I had to rank the books thus far, I'd say:

1. The Bluest Eye
2. Song of Solomon
3. Sula
4. Tar Baby

Tar Baby just...wasn't. I don't know. I'll admit that towards the end, I was able to get a little bit into it. It wasn't a hard book to finish, but the first half was killer. Regardless it took me way too long to read, I'm running out of time. As I plow through the rest of the novels, I'm kinda hoping Morrison gives me a character who goes out, sees the world, gains some knowledge, and isn't see as a bad person.

Two weeks left before Oberlin. Thank goodness.

Chinwe

"Everybody wants the life of a black man."

I agree. So much is expected of black men. They are expected to be good sons to their fathers, to respect their mothers, to look out for their brothers, to protect their sisters, to love their wives, to care for their daughters, to teach their sons, and all the while be true to themselves. And hell, I think most do a really good job considering how much that is to juggle. My daddy especially. Song of Solomon allows the reader to see how much responsibility there really is in being a man of color by presenting Milkman, a man who takes responsibility for nothing. The fact is, although one may be dealt a mediocre hand in life, you have to take it for what it is, suck it up, and keep going. You know, roll with the punches.

So think about the pressure, how much responsibility sits on the shoulders of these men. With so much to prove, no wonder young black men are the ones so quick to pull guns on each other. What is even more amazing and unfortunate than interracial gang violence, is what's going on with gay black men in cities like Atlanta, Georgia. In Atlanta, being a gay black man is generally frowned upon by others, especially other men. So, many are super secretive about their lifestyles and relationships. In fact, they are secretive to the point that many will have relations with other men but pretend 'it's a one time thing' or lie about how many partners they have had. Even more upsetting is many will be too frightened to go get tested for HIV/AIDS and many of those that do, won't tell anyone but will continue to have intercourse. Think about that.

I think Song of Solomon should be required reading for every black male. Really, for everyone. Read it. I even found something specifically for myself within it's pages. Perfect timing Toni.

"The engine of the old car he'd borrowed roared, but Guitar spoke softly to her. "You think because he doesn't love you that you are worthless. You think because he doesn't want you anymore that he is right--that his judgment and opinion of you are correct. If he throws you out, then you are garbage. You think he belongs to you because you want to belong to him. Hagar, don't. It's a bad word, 'belong.' Especially when you put it with somebody you love. Love shouldn't be like that. Did you ever see the way the clouds love a mountain? They circle all around it; sometimes you can't even see the mountain for the clouds. But you know what? You go up top and what do you see? His head. The clouds never cover the head. His head pokes through because the clouds let him; they don't wrap him up. They let him keep his head up high, free, with nothing to hide him or bind him. Hear me, Hagar?" He spoke to her as he would to a very young child. "You can't own a human being. You can't lose what you don't own. Suppose you did own him. Could you really love somebody who was absolutely nobody without you? You really want somebody like that? Somebody who falls apart when you walk out the door? You don't, do you? And neither does he. You're turning over your whole life to him. Your whole life, girl. And if it means so little to you that you can give it away, hand it to him, then why should it mean any more to him? He can't value you more than you value yourself." He stopped. She did not move or give any sign that she had heard him."

I hear you. Thanks girl.

I started Tar Baby yesterday and it's noticeably a much, much harder read. And I hate it already. However, it's my mother's favorite other than The Bluest Eye and I hated Song of Solomon until I got about halfway through, so there's still hope. Three and one-third down, five and two-thirds to go.

Chinwe

"Mamma, did you ever love us?"

I finished Sula maybe four or five days ago, the reading is going really well. The writing, not so much. I guess that lack of wanting to get all my thoughts out on paper comes from not being a writer. Whatever.

Aside from the plot of Sula, I found myself really focusing on the friendship between Nel and Sula. Because I moved at the ages of five and twelve, and to different states both times, I don't exactly have friends from birth or from a young age. I wonder if that's something I missed out on as a child. As much as I think their friendship has the potential to be a great thing for both of them, Sula seems to have different expectations from it all. Maybe it's her mother, maybe it's Eva, but I think Sula has an interesting take on what she needs in order to be successful in life. She knows she needs to get out of the Bottom, so she does. She goes to college and sees the country. Sula knows that one key to getting ahead in life is getting an education. But even before she acquires some sense of how the world works, Sula has a kind of warped view of how one deals with people. From the moment she overhears her mother saying that she doesn't really love Sula, it catches Sula off guard and hurts her really deep. When she watches, in fascination, her mother burn to death, Sula believes it's deserved on Hannah's part. Sula seems to have second thoughts about trusting people from this moment on. For Sula, Nel is more like a wingman than a friend. To her, cutting off the tip of her finger is not even a sacrifice for what she is able to gain from Nel, her trust.

Sula was able to obtain and hold on to Nel's trust, and for her that's enough to keep her from caring what her reputation is in the Bottom upon returning after college. Nel's ability to keep trusting Sula, even when she foresees the damage Sula is about to do in her life, is remarkable. Although Sula, the novel, contains so many more elements, I found myself applying the lesson of trust to my own life. I think my generation is a generation that often doesn't think about the future; how our actions and choices will alter our lives in the years to come. I guess this also applies to the people we surround ourselves with. Sounds drastic, but thinking on it some of the people I've trusted myself are people I now wish I never met. I suppose in regards to trusting others, one must remember to trust themselves first at the end of the day.

As you can see, pediatric psychology has already got me diagnosing the world. Or maybe that's my Winter Term boredom. I started Song of Solomon last night, so we're making the transition from chick book to dude book. The novels are getting harder, but there's definitely consolation in the fact that by the time I finish them, I'll be super close to returning to school. Praise Allah, chaa digg?

Chinwe

"I destroyed white baby dolls."

My favorite books are the ones that I read too young and never fully understood. In my recent rereading of The Bluest Eye, I spent quite a few moments in awe of concepts I never understood the gravity of in my youth. It's kind of ironic now that I see just how much importance children and the concept of youth possess in this novel. Although the focus really isn't about Claudia's life or personal story, her point of view is fascinating. From Claudia, we gain this raw, truthful perspective on racial beauty; a child's perspective. Claudia doesn't understand how her elders can continuously give her little white dolls and expect her to cherish them. These dolls look nothing like her, and to be continuously told by the world that little white girls encompass all things good only makes her believe that as a little black girl, she's inferior. It's understandable that Claudia develops this immense hatred for little, good, white girls. What I think is really interesting is how, in Claudia's mind, it's only logical to hide her disdain in pure adoration of Shirley Temple and later, Maureen Peal. Thinking about it, I feel like I've always understood that adoration, but never where it came from. I'm pretty sure I've known quite a few little black girls who wished for straighter hair or lighter eyes. I'm pretty sure for a few years of my life, I was one of them.

The best quality of Morrison's writing, I think, is her ability to take a character, tell their entire story, tie their past into the present plot, and not lose the reader somewhere in between. This is what kind of saves the characters of Cholly Breedlove, Pauline Breedlove, and Soaphead Church. Realistically, it's impossible to fairly judge whether people are truly good or bad. However, judgement is one of those basic human traits we all possess whether we want to or not. Looking at Mr. and Mrs. Breedlove's behavior and notoriety around town, it's easy to make the assumption that they are 'bad people.' Bad people do bad things, right? Or maybe bad things happen to people, which in turn makes them bad people who do bad things. Morrison challenges the stipulations and gives the reader a reason to maybe give the Breedlove's the benefit of the doubt. Both Mr. and Mrs. B had pretty bad childhoods. I feel that both of them aren't prepared to be adults and when faced with the responsibilities of adulthood, they are unequipped to handle the pressure. Not only are they unequipped, but they are also unsure of how to handle the pressure and, of course, fold underneath it. Both lacked guidance as children, is that really their fault? Can they be blamed for mistakes they don't know better than to make? I don't think so. Maybe I'm at fault for doing so, but I pity them both and I cannot bring myself to fully blame them for things they do.

I don't know if I necessary feel sorry for Soaphead Church, but I certainly don't see his issues with pedophilia as being the greatest ones he possesses. His deal is much more that he's personally insecure about himself and relies on hearing and "correcting" the misfortunes of others to make himself feel important and necessary in the world. When presented with Pecola's wish to have blue eyes, I think he is faced with a moment of realization about himself. He knows he cannot help her and he is angered at himself, for he feels her request is the most deserving of all he's heard. Yet, Church quickly sums up that his work is necessary because unlike God, he is not blatantly ignoring Pecola, even though there's nothing he can do for her. I feel like in that moment Church thinks himself comparable with God, or maybe even greater. Perhaps, there's more to him, after all this section is the climax of the novel, but I'm still a little confused about his character.

I wonder the most, but have no words to offer, about Pecola's conversation with her imaginary friend once she has obtained her blue eyes. That's always the hardest section for me to read, it's nothing but sad. Really sad.

I started Sula last night and I really like it, fifty pages in. It's definitely a woman's book, that's why you think it sucks Gabe.

Thus far, my biggest realization is that I'm going to have to read a lot faster to finish all nine novels.

Chinwe