Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye Offers a Master Class in Craft
By Nancy Johnson | August 15, 2019 |
We all remember where we were when the collective community celebrated or mourned something momentous. Last week, I was sitting in a classroom at Howard University during a Hurston-Wright workshop for Black writers led by bestselling author Nicole Dennis-Benn. As I read aloud the words I’d just composed for a writing prompt, one of my classmates gasped. Then there was a knock at the door. We’d lost our literary light, Toni Morrison.
During my sophomore year at Northwestern University, Professor Leon Forrest assigned Beloved and Song of Solomon as required reading for our literature class. I struggled with language too dense and ideas too complex for my immature imagination to hold. Sadly, I admit I didn’t pick up Morrison’s work again until years later when I’d done enough living to understand how she’d held a mirror up to my own interior life. She gave me permission to write boldly and unapologetically about blackness while centering no one’s gaze but my own.
As writers, we learn craft best by reading works from authors we admire. I studied Morrison’s debut novel, The Bluest Eye, and re-read it many times while writing my own debut. In simple terms, it’s the story of a dark-skinned Black girl’s desire to have blue eyes, but on closer examination, it’s about the roots of racial self-loathing. This book, like all of Morrison’s works, is a master class in storytelling.
Opening Lines
Quiet as it’s kept there were no marigolds in the fall of 1941. We thought, at the time, that it was because Pecola was having her father’s baby that the marigolds did not grow.
That’s how Morrison begins The Bluest Eye. Right away, we want to know why some plants or people flourish while others don’t. The author doesn’t withhold information or try to be coy and mysterious. In the first paragraph, we learn that the protagonist has been the victim of pedophilia. That’s the big plot point and she gives it to us in the first two sentences, yet we still want to read on for hundreds of pages. Also, on page one, the narrator dares to explain why this story structure is brilliant:
There is really nothing more to say—except why. But since why is difficult to handle, one must take refuge in how.
In that opening, Morrison intrigues us, establishes an emotional connection, and assures us we’re in capable hands as she takes us on the journey of Pecola’s story.
Characterization
The most memorable characters stay with us long after we’ve finished the novel because they’re complex and multi-dimensional. We may not like them because they’re unlikeable, but when they’re well-drawn, we understand them and empathize. Let’s look at Cholly Breedlove, the abusive, cowardly antagonist who beats his wife and impregnates his daughter.
First, the surname Morrison chose for this character begs attention. It wasn’t until I finished the novel that I realized that Cholly couldn’t “breed love” because he’d rarely experienced receiving love. Presenting Cholly Breedlove as merely a hateful predator would have been too easy and simplistic. We’re all more than the evil we inflict.
Morrison expertly wove in backstory where we learn that Cholly was abandoned by his mother and rejected by his father. When Cholly was just a boy getting to know a girl he liked, still fumbling and awkward in his innocence, racists forced him to perform sexual acts with the girl for their entertainment. This is a pedophile, yet through layering, Morrison helps us understand this man—not to forgive his predation, but to understand the source of his demons.
Dialogue
The way characters speak to each other reveals who they are, where they come from, and what they want most in the world. The most revealing dialogue for me in this novel is an extensive conversation between Pecola and her imaginary friend. By this point in the story, our protagonist has descended into madness, believing she’s achieved real beauty and she has this inner dialogue about her new, blue eyes:
Boy, I never thought you would be so jealous.
Oh, come on.
You are.
Are what?
Jealous.
Okay, so I’m jealous.
See, I told you.
No, I told you.
Are they really nice?
Very nice.
Just very nice?
Really, truly, very nice.
Really truly, bluely nice?
Oh God, you are crazy.
I am not!
Imagine if Morrison had provided exposition stating that Pecola suffers from divided consciousness and has indulged in an unhealthy obsession about her blackness and desperation for the white, European standards of beauty. We’d have an accurate, academic assessment of Pecola’s plight, but we’d lack this interiority that Morrison gives us through dialogue.
Language
I’d never seen truth and humanity presented so perfectly on the page until I read The Bluest Eye. Every sentence cuts to the bone and leaves the reader breathless, reflecting on the characters and themselves. Morrison’s use of language is unparalleled, and I marvel at her art. In this passage, Pecola’s young friends contemplate their own complicity in the making of pitiful Pecola.
All of our waste which we dumped on her and which she absorbed. And all of our beauty, which was hers first and which she gave to us. All of us–all who knew her–felt so wholesome after we cleaned ourselves on her. We were so beautiful when we stood astride her ugliness. Her simplicity decorated us, her guilt sanctified us, her pain made us glow with health, her awkwardness made us think we had a sense of humor. Her inarticulateness made us believe we were eloquent. Her poverty kept us generous. Even her waking dreams we used–to silence our own nightmares. And she let us, and thereby deserved our contempt. We honed our egos on her, padded our characters with her frailty, and yawned in the fantasy of our strength.
In that one short excerpt, you can hear the rhythm of her prose. Poetic and lyrical. Most of all, it rings true. Morrison crafted every sentence meticulously, precisely, to give us a visceral experience that moves us.
While Morrison’s physical body is no longer with us, her body of work lives on, offering a roadmap to help us tell authentic, important, and unforgettable stories.
How have Morrison’s novels influenced your own writing? Share some examples with us or reflect on the excerpts above.
A native of Chicago’s South Side, Nancy Johnson (she/her) worked for more than a decade as an Emmy-nominated, award-winning television journalist at CBS and ABC affiliates in markets nationwide. Her debut novel, The Kindest Lie, was a Target Book Club Pick. It has been reviewed by The New York Times, The Washington Post, and Los Angeles Times, and was featured in Real Simple magazine and on Entertainment Weekly’s Must List. It was a New York Times Editors’ Choice selection and was named one of the most anticipated books by Newsweek, O, the Oprah Magazine, Shondaland, NBC News, Marie Claire, ELLE, The Chicago Tribune, The New YorkPost, Good Housekeeping, Parade, Refinery29, and more. Booksellers nationwide selected her novel as an Indie Next pick and librarians chose it for LibraryReads. A graduate of Northwestern University and The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Nancy lives in downtown Chicago and her second novel, People of Means, will be published by William Morrow/HarperCollins in early 2025.
Find out more about Nancy, her books and events on her website.
Nancy, that was so beautifully said, and a mini-class on the how-to’s of opening lines and dialogue.
And Morrison did more than affect my writing. In my 20’s she was a mirror I used to examine and challenge my own thoughts about race and identity. And now, I’ve gathered her novels from my shelves and am determined to reread them over the next several months.
Thanks for this wonderful piece.
Yes, Grace, I feel the same. When I read Toni Morrison’s work or listen to her speak, I lift my head a little higher. I missed the documentary, Pieces I Am, when it was in Chicago and then it was sold out when I tried to go in DC last week after her passing. I can’t wait until it’s released digitally. And yes, I’m rereading her work, too. Right now, I’m listening to the audio version of Song of Solomon.
Thanks again for sharing.
Nancy
Eloquent thoughts on a hero in so many ways. I have learned so much from her. Thank you for finding the words to write this.
D.L.,
Thanks for reading my piece and reflecting on Toni Morrison’s influence. Through these conversations and our rereading of her books, her work lives on.
Best,
Nancy
What struck me most is Toni Morrison doesn’t blink when writing tough, terrible things. When writing beautiful things you feel the wonder of it, and you feel the horror of the terrible. Powerful, brave writing which has made me ponder if I can be so brave. I hope so and will strive to, though.
Lara, you’re so right. In The Bluest Eye, Morrison tackles incest, which is obviously terrible. And in all of her novels, she bravely talks about the things we don’t like to confront directly such as racism, self-hatred, colorism, slavery, and more. She forces America to look at itself in the mirror. Such important work.
Thanks for sharing.
Nancy
Lara, I agree with you. The Bluest Eye tackled incest, which is the hardest thing ever. Morrison also unflinchingly examined racism, colorism, misogyny, slavery, and so much more. She held a mirror up to America, to us.
Thanks for sharing.
Best,
Nancy
Such a great post on what we can learn from close reading Toni Morrison’s novels! I’ve been reflecting the last few days on something Jenifer Haigh said in a talk tweeted out by WU (https://bit.ly/2N6o1pw) in which she said she finds a couple of books that will teach her how to write her current WIP and reads them over and over while she’s working on it.
Your post makes me realise that Toni Morrison’s Paradise is one of those books for my WIP, one that I’ll read over and over to immerse myself in her wisdom and craft. Thank you!
Hi Barbara,
Like you, I think the best lessons in craft come from reading the work of great writers. Toni Morrison is at the top of my list! The first time, I read for pure pleasure. Then I dissect the text to better understand how the author structured sentences, scenes, and the entire book.
I’ll have to check out Jennifer Haigh’s talk. Thanks for the heads up!
Best,
Nancy
Nancy, a few years ago we were in a WFWA editing group. I enjoyed your comments then and have followed you since. You have a thoughtful insight into life. I wish you well in all endeavors.
Hi, Leslie Ann! So good to hear from you. Yes, I remember those online writing groups. Thank you for your kind words. All the best with your book projects. – Nancy
Thank you for this excellent and insightful post, Nancy. Long I have believed books are our best teachers and none so wise, honest, clear, and beautiful as Toni Morrison’s. I believe many of us are re-reading her books now as a way of honoring her passing. Some days I just pull one off my shelf and let it fall open to her wisdom, language and influence.
Hi Judy,
I’ve also been re-reading Morrison’s work, absorbing it and listening to her voice in the audio versions. She left us such rich, meaningful stories that are incredibly prescient.
Thanks for sharing.
Best,
Nancy
Well done, Nancy! I’m currently reading this book and you’ve captured what I’ve been feeling as I read!
Hi Icess,
Thanks so much! I’m anxious to hear what you think once you’ve finished The Bluest Eye. It didn’t receive the same acclaim as Beloved or Song of Solomon, but I think it’s stellar. A breathtaking read and a real lesson on craft.
Great seeing you here!
Best,
Nancy
Nancy, thank you for sharing your previous struggle with reading The Bluest Eye. I had a similar experience with not connecting with the text, but your writer’s perspective on her work and your dissection of these passages has me eager/inspired to try again. That you were at Howard University, at a writing workshop, when word of Morrison’s passing came is amazing. I think the world is still trying to grasp the enormity of her absence.
Kathy, hello! It’s interesting how I find new meaning and significance in Morrison’s work with each passing decade. As I mature, so does my understanding of how groundbreaking her stories are.
Much thanks,
Nancy
What a touching tribute, Nancy! Thanks for illuminating her work. I’ve always loved that Maya Angelou took intellectual concepts and made them accessible to everyone. But Toni? She makes us reach higher and higher for the brilliance in her teachings. It’s a different type of reading satisfaction – though equally admirable. We’re fortunate she was a part of our lifetime.
Michele, yes, “reaching higher for the brilliance” is an apt way to put it. Morrison stretched and challenged us both as writers and humans. I’m listening to the audio version of Song of Solomon this week on my work commute!
Thanks for sharing.
Best,
Nancy
Thanks for highlighting this particular novel, Nancy. It was the first of hers I read, I think in college…but possibly AP English in HS? A gorgeously written story about very ugly things. It captivated me in a way other books hadn’t. Just a completely different voice than I’d heard before. When I was a graduate assistant teaching writing at MSU, I assigned this book to my students–the only novel they read for the class, which was an English comp class with a subject focus of women’s studies. SO much to talk about.
Hi, Erin! This novel is very special to me, too. It’s often in the shadows of Beloved and Song of Solomon, her most acclaimed novels. The Bluest Eye forced me to do some self-examination and look critically at the root of why a little girl like Pecola Breedlove grew up hating herself. The most insidious effects of racism can often be internal in the lives of its victims.
Thanks for sharing!
Best,
Nancy
Oh! Nancy, you brought this book back for me! I don’t think I’ve read The Bluest Eye since Professor Forrest class. Morrison was so
Poetic in her prose! I will never forget this line from the Bluest Eye: “When I think of Autumn, I think of hands that do not want me to die.”
Amber! So good to see you here. Yes, that is a powerful line from the novel. Morrison played with seasons brilliantly throughout the book. We’re losing so many of our literary greats. She and Dr. Forrest were giants in the field.
Thanks for sharing.
Best,
Nancy
Thank you for this wonderful article on what we can learn from Toni Morrison. I’m such an avid reader but her books are ones I’ve missed. Now I plan to read them all.
Hi, Diana! It makes me happy that I can introduce you to Toni Morrison’s work. I suggest starting with The Bluest Eye, her debut work. It’s magnificent and one of the most accessible to begin with. All of her books are worth reading. Beloved and Song of Solomon have received the most critical acclaim.
Enjoy!
Nancy