LITR 5731: Seminar in American Multicultural Literature
Sample Student Midterm, Fall 2007
LITR 5731:
Seminar in American Multicultural Literature
Sample Student Midterm, Fall 2007
October 1, 2007
Milkman’s ascendance at the end of Song of Solomon is for some readers, conceivably a voyage back to Africa. I entertained the idea on my first and second readings. But then I realized I don’t believe Milkman can actually fly—although, in the case of “The Flying Africans,” the possibility may exist. Also, considering the fact that Milkman wasn’t born in Africa, I ask, why would he fly back there? America is his native country. He does however, ‘rise’ from Solomon’s leap—in the same spirit of the dream pursuit in which his great-grandfather Solomon soared; so considering this fact, we can conclude that Milkman is exalted from the nightmare of his life.
But how does Milkman conjure up the courage required to ‘rise’—how does he summon the self-determination that enables him “to dissolve the…bands which connect[s] [him] with [the others]?” And how does he invoke the strength to declare his independence to pursue his own dreams?
My assertion is this: Milkman’s flight to freedom—his “up from a past that's rooted in pain / leaving behind nights of terror and fear” is dialectically developed: born into a slavish life, Milkman assumes an unquestioning role rooted in “servile fearfulness.” But then, like Douglass, who stands up to Covey, Milkman experiences an antithesis: he asserts his “haughtiness”—his authority and strength by standing up to his father, and then “infinite possibilities and enormous responsibilities [stretch] out before him” (77). Subsequently, like Douglass, he feels the human impulse to escape his oppressive existence and desires to dream; that is, he desires “to live [his] own life” (241). Milkman seeks and finds information about his father’s patriarchal lineage, and this rich new Knowledge both inspires and empowers him to imitate Solomon who rises from the horrors of slavery. But unlike Solomon, Milkman does not fly back to Africa. Jennie Branch from a previous mid-term explains that “though he has escaped from his previous life, he…will not ever free himself from the burdens that plague the society from which he ran.” Still, he “rise[s]” and “in the air…he [feels] free... [and] the wings of all those other people’s nightmares [flap] in his face and [does not] [constrain] him.”
Milkman’s journey to freedom is fraught with fear of asserting his independence from his father’s dreams—he fears doing more than just working for him. Even though he admits how “distracted and edgy “ he is with his life, that he is “[is] bored” and that “everybody bore[s] him” and that “he c[a]n’t get interested in money,” he stays in his slavish situation—since he has no specific dreams of his own. Brought up in a mindless middle-class existence where materialism prevails, his father’s maxim is three-fold: “Own things. And let the things you own own other things. Then you’ll own yourself and other people too” (64).His father fears that developing intellectual growth is “time spent in idleness,” which is his father’s way of “niggerizing” Milkman, who not only has the funds to further his education, but who also has the support of his mother who “hint[s] strongly that he ought to consider going to medical school” like her father did. We also see here that education is valued in his family’s lineage. Considering this, we see furthering his education explicitly exists as a possibility for Milkman. However, at this point in his life, Milkman believes his father’s “twisted lies”—the lies that “a nigger should know nothing but to obey his master—to do as he is told to do—that learning would spoil the best nigger in the world—that if you teach that nigger how to read, there would be no keeping him. It would forever unfit him to be a slave” (364). Blindly imitative of his father—Milkman’s dreams are thus “deferred.”
However, “contrary to what his father hope[s]” Milkman does not possess a slavish mentally—“he is “just the opposite of his father;” that is, he isn’t cold and callous or disinterested in others (65). He possesses an engaging personality. Milkman is “friendly, approachable and easy to talk to like Equiano who is interested in and friendly to the world around him:
During our passage I first saw flying fishes, which surprised me very much: they used frequently to fly across the ship, and many of them fell on the deck. I also now first saw the use of the quadrant. I had often with astonishment seen the mariners make observations with it, and I could not think what it meant. They at last took notice of my surprise: and one of them, willing to increase it, as well as to gratify my curiosity, made me one day look through it…everything about me was magic. (62)
Here, we witness along with Equiano’s curiosity, a sense of wonderment —traits we also witness in Milkman when he visits Pilate—we also see Milkman’s disobedience: “All those unbelievable but entirely possible stories about his father’s sister—the woman his father had forbidden him to go near—had [him] spellbound. [Milkman] wished to live one more day without finding out the truth…” (44). Milkman refuses to believe the lie his father has told him: “stay out of that wine house and as far way from Pilate as you can. Pilate can’t teach you a thing you can use in this world” (64). Milkman is inspired by Pilate and realizes that she possesses everything he can use in this world, the truth about who he is. And when he dreams to know who he really is, he trusts that Pilate is the person who can tell him: “I’m gonna ask her what my name is. Pilate knows” (100).
Experiencing antithesis, not only to his resignation of being called by names that aren’t real, Dead and Milkman, he‘s no longer resigned to live in fear. Milkman is strengthened by the truth that his father is a bully and he asserts his authority defending his mother against his father’s “strong arm of slavery:”
You touch her again, one more time, and I’ll kill you.” [His father]…shocked at being assaulted…could not speak. He had come to believe, after years of creating respect and fear wherever he put his foot down, after years of being the tallest man in every gathering, that the was impregnable. (77)
Milkman rejects his father’s manipulation, refusing to put up with his father’s abuse of his mother one more day. We see Douglass conjuring up the courage too when he stands up to Covey: “Mr. Covey seemed to think he had me, and could do what he pleased; but at this moment…I resolved to fight…I seized Covey hard by the throat…he trembled like a leaf. This gave me assurance, and I held him…causing the blood to run where I touched him with the ends of my fingers” (394). Both Douglass and Milkman, believing in themselves, refuse to be kept down any longer. Douglass explains: “From this time I was never again what might be called fairly whipped, though I remained a slave for four years afterwards. I had several fights, but was never whipped.” Both Douglass and Milkman show that they become as Douglass puts it, their “own master[s] of their dreams” (402).
Milkman asserts his “haughtiness” and as a result, “infinite possibilities and enormous responsibilities [stretch] out before him” (77). Like Douglass, he feels the human impulse to escape his oppressive existence and desires “to live [his] own life… [having] stretched his carefree boyhood out for thirty-one years” (109). And although “he was very good in his father’s business…he had to admit right away that real estate was of no real interest to him”—that real estate was not his dream: “If he had to spend the rest of his life thinking about rents and property, he’d lose him mind” (119). Thus Milkman declares his hope of a dream: “There has to be something better to look forward to” (120). And he asserts a belief in the hope: “Either I am to live in this world on my own terms or I will die out of it” (143). We see this same impulse in Douglass: “My determination to run away was again revived. I resolved to wait only so long as the offering of a favorable opportunity. When that came, I was determined to be off” (377-8). Both Milkman—who’s no longer content to be called by that name and Douglass leave the nightmares of their lives to purse their dreams.
But what is it that Milkman seeks? What is his quest? Is he just seeking gold? Or is he seeking something else? We know that he seems to be after the gold since he states: “So I’m going after it.” But the implication that he seeks something else is also exists. He never calls it gold, like his father who “turns to [him] full face and lick[s] his lips” –manipulative and greedy, pleads with him to “get it. For both of us. Please get it, son. Get the gold” (189). But Milkman refers to the gold as “stuff” and as a “rainbow” that he hopes “nobody has run off with…cause [he] need[s] it” (241). But what is it that Milkman needs? On one hand, we know that he thinks he needs the gold; that is, he is explicitly seeking the it, but on the other hand, he implies that he seeks something more valuable than gold—something more pertinent than gold: “I just know that I want to live my own life. I don’t want to be my old man’s office boy no more. And as long as I’m in this place I will be” (241). The gold that Milkman seeks is a new identity—a new name. “This place” represents his present mentally—his “Dead” existence. Seeking a new identity is for Milkman as precious as gold—it’s life—a new life.
But Milkman’s quest to shed his “Dead” identity is not easy, and he experiences great discomfort. Arriving in Danville for example, we see how spoiled Milkman is when he “[feels] ridiculous” because the bus station lacks a men’s room and a place where he can store his luggage. “What was I supposed to do” (247)? Annoyed rather than grateful that the man at the counter Milkman allows him to keep his luggage there despite the fact that his store is not a baggage storage, Milkman departs, unresponsive to the man’s consideration. Then, when he goes looking for Circe’s house, he has to ask for help—something he’s not accustomed to doing and something he feels greatly uncomfortable doing: “He had never had to make a pleasant impression on a stranger before, never needed anything from a stranger before, and did not remember ever asking anybody in the world how they were” (248). We see that in this new world, Milkman is lost—in himself, still. He’s as weak as Equiano is when he is new to the slave ship:
The first object that saluted my eyes when I arrived on the coast was the sea, and a slave ship…and I was now persuaded that I got into a world of bad spirits, and that they were going to kill me…When I looked round the ship too, and saw a large furnace of copper boiling and a multitude of black people, of every description, chained together, every one of their countenances expressing dejection and sorrow, I no longer doubted of my fate; and quite overpowered with horror and anguish, I fell motionless on the deck and fainted. (57)
It’s not until he meets Reverend Cooper that we see Milkman “[feeling] a glow listening to a story [about his father]…that he’d heard many times before but only half listened to.” Milkman listens sincerely to Cooper talk about his father and “it was real” (252).
This transformative experience enables Milkman to imagine his father in a heroic light instead of the slave master he seemed to be back in Michigan.
Milkman learns a lot about his patriarchal lineage, and he’s able to understand the reason for his father’s his oppressive existence. He learns the horrible truth that his father saw his fathered murdered for his land. He learns there is so much more to his father other than “that stern, greedy, unloving man” he’s only known. He also learns that his father like himself worked closely with his father—and he realizes he’s part of a lineage of great men—a lineage where men flew and where men “had come out of nowhere... [and] grab [bed] this land” (256). And Milkman “glittered… and grew fierce with pride” (257).
Milkman never finds gold in the Danville community, but he does find his rich and valuable patriarchal lineage—a history which he has always been ignorant about. In this community, Milkman learns acceptance and compassion. And although he never finds the gold, he finds something much richer—he finds his way out of the nightmare of his life—into a new life where he can dream. His rise off of Solomon’s leap is symbolically significant because Milkman is freed from the lies of the past, and as he rises from Solomon’s leap, he embraces his friend Guitar who’s still caught up in the rage of the nightmare. Milkman’s embrace represents compassion and acceptance, and as he “explode[s]” into Guitar—he literally flies into a rage personified—where his dreams are rooted.
