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A review by inherbooks
Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston
5.0
“No hour is ever eternity, but it has its right to weep.”
I’m always particularly weary when I pick up a classic that’s on everybody’s tongue. I worry I’ll be disappointed or I’ll feel like I’m missing out what makes it a universal gem. The FOMO is very real, can you tell? This one's from 1937, a classic through and through.
Now, Janie? Janie Crawford is *the* gem and there’s no missing that. She’s a powerhouse, and not in the way we typically see. She had a quiet strength about her that drew people to her (or was it her lighter skin colour?). Janie is a character who is jostled by Existence, the men in her life, and the ones who wish could be in her life. Having been brought up by her grandmother, after her mother abandoned her, she was taught getting a seat on the porch, a symbol of comfort her own grandmother couldn’t achieve but so strongly desired, was the ultimate goal for a woman. When that life doesn’t add up – finding only a mundanity she couldn’t stand – Janie journeys to find her voice and follows her heart in the least cliché way possible. She basks in life’s simplest pleasures – love and laughter – and survives the harshest elements throughout.
You’ll be surprised to find (atleast I was) that this novel doesn’t talk about Janie as much as a typical protagonist. Most of the novel is spent talking about the men in her life speak, act, live. But in the way that the negatives of a film impose an image, Janie comes to life not *because* of but *despite* their presence, (and all the unnecessary gossip and unsolicited advice from unknown people – is that enough un-s?).
“Whut is it dat keeps uh man from getting’ burnt on uh red-hot stove – caution or nature?”
Read the book – you’ll find your answer et al.
I’m always particularly weary when I pick up a classic that’s on everybody’s tongue. I worry I’ll be disappointed or I’ll feel like I’m missing out what makes it a universal gem. The FOMO is very real, can you tell? This one's from 1937, a classic through and through.
Now, Janie? Janie Crawford is *the* gem and there’s no missing that. She’s a powerhouse, and not in the way we typically see. She had a quiet strength about her that drew people to her (or was it her lighter skin colour?). Janie is a character who is jostled by Existence, the men in her life, and the ones who wish could be in her life. Having been brought up by her grandmother, after her mother abandoned her, she was taught getting a seat on the porch, a symbol of comfort her own grandmother couldn’t achieve but so strongly desired, was the ultimate goal for a woman. When that life doesn’t add up – finding only a mundanity she couldn’t stand – Janie journeys to find her voice and follows her heart in the least cliché way possible. She basks in life’s simplest pleasures – love and laughter – and survives the harshest elements throughout.
You’ll be surprised to find (atleast I was) that this novel doesn’t talk about Janie as much as a typical protagonist. Most of the novel is spent talking about the men in her life speak, act, live. But in the way that the negatives of a film impose an image, Janie comes to life not *because* of but *despite* their presence, (and all the unnecessary gossip and unsolicited advice from unknown people – is that enough un-s?).
“Whut is it dat keeps uh man from getting’ burnt on uh red-hot stove – caution or nature?”
Read the book – you’ll find your answer et al.