The Bluest Eye

The Bluest Eye is one of those books you read wishing that it weren’t still relevant.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good book, but it is 37 years-old and you’d hope that the passing references to racial tensions in Baton Rouge would reference tensions that had passed.  No such luck; the world, we must remember, is terrible.  I’ve struggled with Toni Morrison in the past, but this book hits a cord.  It’s brilliant in its descriptions of the problems poor black women experienced in constructing their identity and in recognising their own beauty.  Now, I don’t pretend to be anything near an expert on that subject, but it is fascinating that things Morrison was saying years ago can still be clearly seen today.

There’s this documentary on Netflix called Miss Representation.  It’s wonderful.  Watch it.  And in this documentary it is mentioned that black women, or women of any ethnic minority in the West, are less likely to suffer from issues stemming from poor body image.  The reason for this, it is thought, is that white women are bombarded by images that so nearly resemble them- if they lost ten pounds and got their nose fixed.  Black women in the media, when they are there at all, are celebrated (admittedly to the point of fetishism) for their curves.  So black women have some very different body issues to white women.  It was different again back when The Bluest Eye is set.  The black community has no media approved template for black female beauty and so the women attempt to emulate white film stars, while the men and boys see only ugliness.

The main narrative of the story follows Pecola Breedlove.  It’s a tale told from varying viewpoints and focusing on her family history and significant events in her life, rather than a cohesive story.  We are told time and time again that Pecola is ugly.  It is the first thing that her mother thinks when she looks at her.  It is Pecola’s defining characteristic and it becomes how she defines herself.  The novel’s title refers to Pecola’s greatest wish; to be blue eyed.  She could bear her ugliness, if only her eyes were blue.  Through various convoluted means this leads her into the path of a paedophile that isn’t half as harmful to her as her own father.   Anyway, Pecola’s story is utter misery - what else could be expected for one so ugly- that concludes with the death of her incest rape baby.  This also means that, distressingly, the wish granting paedophile isn’t the least likeable character in the book.

I did enjoy this book.  It’s very choppy but when it is good, it is great.  The main thing that I took from it, however, is the life lesson that it’s a bad idea to read banned books at work.  After being asked why it was banned by multiple people, I Googled it.  It’s sufficient to say that my internet history on my work computer now involves incest and rape.  That’s the kind of thing that gives HR departments the wrong idea.  But that’s not my lasting impression of this book.  I was left with frustration.  I say this so often when themes of race or sexism come up.  Stuff like this should not be as relevant as it still is.  The Bluest Eye just hits a serious intersectional double whammy for discrimination that’s not as outdated as it should be.

I’m now on to A Boy’s Own Story by Edmund White.