Hardly scientific

There are a few interesting dynamics in Octavia Butler’s Kindred. As was noted in class, the main character Dana really has no idea what is happening to her. Butler’s use of a first-person narrative forces the reader to follow alongside, and in the mind of Dana as she discovers more and more about the situation. At first, this is painstaking. Both Dana and the reader are anxious to know the explanation for her time travel. Slowly we begin to gather pieces of the puzzle, eventually learning that she is drawn back to the past when Rufus’s life is in danger and he needs her help. She comes back to the present whenever she feels her life threatened.

I found that Dana quickly accepts that she is a time traveler, and proceeds from there. After her second trip, she decides to arm herself in preparation for the next time. I thought it interesting that she was able to suspend her disbelief so immediately. Some people might dwell on the fact for a while before composing themselves and thinking rationally.

Another point I thought was worth exploring was the setting of the present-day portions of the novel. The modern story is set in 1976, a year known primarily for the bicentennial celebrations that took place. America “turned 200” that year, and patriotic displays were commonplace. There is no way this was not done intentionally on Butler’s part. I think it is meant to accentuate the blight that slavery is on the history of America. I wasn’t alive at the time, but I’m certain that celebrations of America’s formation didn’t include a retrospective of slavery in the south. Dana’s journey between bicentennial America and the antebellum south is an interesting juxtaposition.

Gabriel the archangel

I have no religious upbringing and am not familiar with the stories of the Bible. Because of this, I think I missed some of the larger themes that David Durham writes about in Gabriel’s Story. Through talking to classmates in small groups, the only bit of illumination I have received is that Gabriel, in the Bible, was something called an “archangel.” Naturally, my curiosity was piqued, and I did some research to find out both what an archangel is, and what Gabriel’s role in the Old Testament was, as it seemed likely that this information would shed light on the story.

What I found is that an archangel is essentially a high-ranking angel, one who works closely with God. The only two ever named explicitly are Michael and Gabriel. Gabriel’s most significant act, from what I found, was delivering the news to Mary that she was pregnant with the baby Jesus, a event referred to in Christian tradition as “The Annunciation.” Well, that doesn’t really help me any.

The only useful thing I found came from the book itself. In the epilogue, a man we can assume is Hiram tells of the acts of violence that angels have done in the name of God. Raphael smote Asmodeus, Elijah smote the prophets of Baal, and Michael smote Satan’s army. Gabriel did the same. Marshall can be read as a devil figure, or a representation of evil. Gabriel and his family are angels of God, harbingers of justice and beacons of light. The act of killing Marshall is in effect a Biblical act, wherein an angel is justified in its destruction of an evil entity.

Durham’s thesis can then be summed up in a passage from the epilogue:

“… a battle won in the name of good, for protection of family against the devil’s agents, is a blessed thing. Remember that the angel Uriel, who guarded the gates of Eden, stood with a fiery sword in his hands. … There is no sin in this. Not even the angels live in peace. At least, not yet.”

A reflection of circumstances

The origins of Africans in America are rooted in violence. As a people, African-Americans would not even be present in this country if not for the slave trade during America’s formation. Slavery is by definition an exercise in suffering, as the victims are treated as subhuman. I see this as being reflected in the literature of African-Americans. Violence pervades their experiences. Their history is in fact built upon it. Even through the early part of the 20^th century, racially based murders were common in the South. The authors we are reading lived through these turbulent times, and their experiences were molded by them.

Baldwin’s “Going to Meet the Man” is a particularly poignant example. In the story, we get an extremely graphic depiction of a lynching. I am not sure if Baldwin ever witnessed this act in person, but even if he never did, his description is likely very accurate. The violence we see here is obviously shocking to the reader, but for the characters involved, it is thrilling, exhilarating, and entirely justified. Despite the inhumane and torturous act, the people carrying it out feel as if they are carrying out God’s will, or something equally deranged and misguided.

Quicksand to me does not depict suffering in the same way. Helga Crane’s turmoil is internal, and indirectly a result of her situation. Her problems stem from an unhealthy childhood, although it could be said that her half-black, half-white genes exacerbated the problem. Still, I see Helga’s suffering as not so much a continuation of the plight of blacks in America but more a result of a traumatic upbringing.

Gabriel’s Story, although I am only about a third of the way through, feels like it is going to explode into a rousing, violent epic. As of my posting this, I haven’t begun the second part of the novel, so I am still unsure of what will befall Gabriel and James during their journey. I think, however, that there will be a violent confrontation at some point, resulting in the death of one of the boys, most likely James.

The jazz pianist

This striking image of a jazz pianist captures the soul that Sonny’s playing conveys.

Image found at the fantastic http://www.tilebydesign.net.

Painful in a good way

Baldwin’s writing contains a characteristic that I describe as “emotionally devastating.” Typically, I reserve this term for films and music, but clearly literature, like any work of art, can carry the same emotional weight of any other medium, if not more. Despite the ominous wording, it’s a good thing! The films I associate with the phrase include Schindler’s List, Mysterious Skin, Last Days, American Beauty, American History X, Crash, Brokeback Mountain, and so on. These are all films that are important pieces of my DVD collection and are near and dear to my heart. The bond they all share is a raw depiction of human emotion. This is what I respond to. Baldwin, perhaps more than anyone I have read or will read, taps into something universal.

Not everyone may find Baldwin accessible, or even enjoyable. I think the defining moment in a person’s growth as an appreciator of art is when they can step outside themselves and acknowledge that art does not exist solely for their entertainment. The sooner you can get past yourself and look at something for what it is, the better. Of course our experiences pass through filters before we assign meaning to them, but even so, we can train ourselves to put that on hold and realize that it’s selfish to only look at something in terms of whether you “liked it” or not. That sounds condescending and like an indictment of people who don’t “get” art, but it’s how I feel, so maybe it is both.

I have enjoyed my introduction to Baldwin through Going to Meet the Man. His work seems too important for me not to come back to after finishing this collection. I am not sure I can imagine a scenario where I don’t go on to read most, if not all, of his other writing in my lifetime. Just like discovering a new band or a new film director, it’s exciting, and I look forward to getting deeper into his work.

Ed. this was posted eight hours before the time it shows here. I updated the options to reflect the Pacific time zone after posting.