In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 [Firs [71], Line —— -2.7 —— Norm PgEn [71], ⠕ CHAPTER 4 Flying without Ever Leaving the Ground Feminine Masculinity in Song of Solomon The Bluest Eye is Morrison’s manifesto. It pecks away at those aspects of the “white gaze” abusive to African American masculinity: distorted sexuality, ownership, physical beauty, romantic love. Sula extends Morrison ’s outrage at the attempted annihilation of that manhood by rough white hands who “tore the [protectively poisonous] nightshade and [thornily sweet] blackberry patches from their roots” to make room for the paltry sound and fury of a golf course (3). Portraying Sula and Nel as the adult women that Claudia and Frieda grow into, it laments the erosion of the Bottom’s complex androgyny from without and within. While Morrison’s first two novels attend to the females in the black community, they do not dismiss its male figures as completely isolated, alienated, or irrelevant, nor do they blame all of the community’s ills on them. Song of Solomon (1977) becomes unequivocal testament to Morrison’s praise of men as it celebrates the vitality and truth of what she calls the free black male. It encourages his impulse to step down off the communal confinement of the porch, seek his ancestral fathers, and locate his ancient properties. Dedicated to “Daddy,” the novel embraces a culture in which “The fathers may soar.” Morrison herself says of the book: “Men are more prominent. They interested me in a way I hadn’t thought about before, almost as a species” (Watkins 50). She applauds the feistiness or “magic” inherent in such classic black male stereotypes as Kingfish, who “did anything he was big enough to do” (Stepto 384). She also acknowledges that the male’s 71 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 [72], Line —— 0.0 —— Norm PgEn [72], manifestation of power resides in his ability to change situations or places, reflected in his fascination with trains and planes. Morrison finds flying “one of the most attractive features about the black male life. . . . It’s part of that whole business of breaking ground, doing the other thing.” The men’s love of confident speed—their willingness to split at the drop of a hat—takes its toll, however, on children who are left with overburdened mothers and no stable connection to their fathers. Identifying flying as the central figure for masculinity in Song of Solomon, Morrison juxtaposes this metaphor with a trope connected to women and children: song. She states that “the fathers may soar, they may triumph, they may leave, but the children know who they are; they remember, half in glory and half in accusation. That is one of the points of ‘Song’: all the men have left someone, and it is the children who remember it, sing about it, mythologize it, make it a part of their family history” (Watkins 50). Appropriating a deliberately ambiguous pronoun, the other half of the book’s mantra affirms: “The children may know their names.” Several scholars comment on Morrison’s attitude toward a pattern of migratory men. Demetrakopoulos commends Morrison for examining this archetype from the women’s and children’s points of view but finds the loss to the men’s own spiritual development an even more devastating ramification. Flying with no real point of return costs black men “maturation , individuation, connections,” creating a polarized, soulless masculine (Holloway 86–90). Hovet and Lounsberry categorize Morrison’s characters into three kinds of fliers: propertied nesting birds, daring but dangerous fliers, and soaring whole fliers. They conclude that her black men can fly free only when they establish a strong self-identity yet simultaneously maintain a positive connection to the community. All three critics acknowledge that flying as a commonplace in African American literature takes on connotations beyond the mere thought of escape or freedom, suggesting physical, moral, or spiritual heights and symbolizing intellect, imagination, or sexual potency. However, none extends the metaphor to include basic survival. Morrison often claims a fascination with who endures and...

Share