Thursday, August 13, 2009

Richard Wright's Black Boy



So, it's been about a week since I've posted anything. During that time, I finished Brave New World by Huxley. Right now, there isn't a lot I could discuss at this point, apart from the focus on history and its clear use as inspiration for Orwell's 1984.

Instead, I want to use this post to identify a few thoughts I had while reading the first part of Richard Wright's Black Boy. During my reading of Wright's autobiography, and after watching parts of a PBS documentary on Youtube about Wright (there are 5 segments), that he took the nurture side in the nature vs. nurture debate. Continually, throughout the work, he stresses the effects that the environment lives in has acted to shape his, and others, personality.

When his family moved to Memphis in 1913, his father left them, thus causing his mother to care for Richard and his younger brother, Leon. His absence, as well as the absence of other male African-American authority figures that impact Wright in a positive way strikes me. In all of the books I have read this summer, I have noticed this trend. Grant, in A Lesson Before Dying, voices this problem and uses it to teach Jefferson. Now, in Wright's book, this absence would not seem strange to me if it was singular instance, but he even experiences the absence of his grandfather. The only time Wright's maternal grandfather appears, when the family lives with him and his grandmother in Jackson, is when Wright is in trouble. His grandfather must come out of his room, or wherever he is, and take action. The only other time we really see him is when he is on his deathbed.

The other African-American male figures in Wright's life do not really give him anything he needs. Aunt Maggie's husband is killed, her next husband leaves with Maggie, an uncle scares him to death, Uncle Tom tries to be an authority figure, but Wright rebels, and the principal acts as a puppet for the established ethical code. The only ones, of the male persuasion, who really give Wright useful advice are his peers. Griggs does this by telling him he needs to think before he acts.

In the absence of these male figures, the female ones take over. Wright is raised, almost entirely, by the female members of his family. Even then, his mother must be absent some times to work, leaving him and his brother to their own devices. During these times, Wright becomes a drunk at six, peeps on his landlady's sundry operations in her house, and gets into other mischief. Granted, he knows when he has done things wrong, he even says he does. However, the authority figures in his life do not appear to care. They know that he has gone against their expectations, and he must be punished.

In a way, the manner in which the women in his life treat him reminds me of the episode near the end of the section where Harrison and Richard are coaxed into fighting by their white employers. He writes, "The hate we felt for the men [employers] whom we had tried to cheat went into the blows we threw at each other" (243). This action becomes reminiscent of the beatings Wright receives from the female figures in his life. He always has a hard time broaching the topic of race with his mother; she skirts the subject and he knows it. There is always this air around them that constricts their feelings, even for one another. When Wright is punished for his transgressions, no matter how minor, this pain and hate that the authority figures feels appears to be transferred to him through the punishment.

On a different note, it's interesting to look at Wright's use of words and his dedication to their meaning. In the first few chapters, he writes numerous lines, recalling blues verses, that describe his daily life. For example:

The days and hours began to speak now with a clearer tounge. Each experience had a sharp meaning of its own.
There was the breathlessly anxious fun of chasing and catching flitting fireflies on drowsy summer nights.
There was the drenching hospitality in the pervading the smell of sweet magnolias.
(45).

Here, and later, Wright uses quick snippets to provide information for his formative years his surroundings. He only does this when he is younger. As he ages, these instances of a page or two of descriptive phrasings vanishes.

On another occasion, he appears to subvert the very act that is occurring around him by using language that precisely contradicts the scene. When he goes to the revival meeting with his grandmother, he tells her that he would consider salvation and belief if he sees an angel. She misunderstands him and tells the pastor that he has seen an angel. During his realization of this problem, he says uses blasphemous language in the narrative as if to subvert the setting and meaning of the scene.

Another instance, shows his use of manipulating language when he writes a letter to the librarian so he can check out books by H.L. Mencken. Jerry W. Ward Jr., in the introduction, writes, "Not only does [Wright] forge (the dual meaning seems intended) his own notes to borrow books, but he names himself "nigger" to insure his success" (xviii). In all actuality, Wright has learned to bend and play with rules and edicts of the South better than his peers. Instead of letting a white man kick him in the butt for a quarter, like Shorty, Wright uses his knowledge of the system to his advantage without being disgraced in the process.

In conclusion, I would really like to explore some more ideas in the book, even though I don't have time. For one, the idea of playing a role within set constructs appeals to me. Also, it would be interesting to examine the nature of Wright's peer to peer relationships, especially in today's light. Through my experience, these mentalities still exist, in different forms. His classmates always wonder why he writes, they always tell him how to act so he won't be killed, and ultimately, they, and his family, isolate him because he is different.

In conclusion, this song, for some reason, reminds me of some of the topics I want to explore further. Mainly, it relates to the Wright's drive and his ability to look beyond the current situation. Take a listen and let me know what you think.

P.O.S.--"Purexed"

2 comments:

DiAnne Malone said...

Hey Matt,
It's me DiAnne. It's funny how the female perspective prompts me to pick up a different resonating theme in the book, Black Boy. I almost missed the fact that the men in the book were virtually missing, for I was concentrating on the inscription of women that Wright uses. Interestingly enough, my thesis advisor wouldn't even participate in my observation of Wright's supposed hatred of, or rather it seems he detested, women who held rather authoritative positions in his life. They were always...I mean always...written as if they just didn't understand. They were witches, angry, unfeeling witches. As I began to think about Wright and of course Ellison, I felt affirmed in my insistence that Wright was not fond of the African American female. But, after reading this blog, I think it is because he was more angry about the absence of a male role model in his life. The history of African Americans is one that lent to this absent father syndrome that you observe. On the flip side of that is this strong and unfeeling mother/grandmother/aunt who is in essence trying to be the man as well, solely relying on her own inexperience as a man and religion to bolster her convictions as she attempts to raise her son. It is all very interesting and I appreciate your observations as it sheds new light on an old concept I've been grappling with for a few months.

Mineral9 said...

You know, while I was reading Wright, I though about you. It may have been because you mentioned your observations before, or because I saw them somewhere else. However, I don't think I would have come to this observation if I didn't read Of Love and Dust and A Lesson Before Dying before Black Boy. In both of those books, there are strong African American women who the male characters respect, yet they also have a strong apprehension to them in some respects. at one point, Grant, in A Lesson Before Dying, brings this absent father realization into complete perspective when he talks to his girlfriend. At this point, I forget what he says exactly.

Even though the male is absent, in these cases, it's interesting to look at the men in these works too. Think about Baldwin. Granted, he did not have a great relationship with his father, but from what I can remember, the male authority figures, for the most part, are pretty reprehensible. One of the fathers in If Bealle Street Could Talk is presented in a good way, from my memory. In Jonah's Gourd Vine, Hurston presents John negatively, for the most part. Again though, this could be because of her father. Though, how does the fact that Baldwin's step-father and Hurston's father were like this cause them to differ from the "autobiographical" Black Boy. It would be interesting to delve into this further.

Do you know of any good African American Literature list servs?