Scan barcode
A review by sbreadsfantasy
Dust Tracks on a Road by Zora Neale Hurston
5.0
Maya Angelou’s foreword concludes that, in this autobiography, “It is difficult, if not impossible, to find and touch the real Zora Neale Hurston.” I agree completely. The appendix reveals that editorial oversight may have influenced this in some degree. I am left to wonder if perhaps the true Zora Neale Hurston would not have been palatable to her white readers in the early 40s, or if she herself did not wish to be that vulnerable.
Hurston’s autobiography is fascinating. Her imagery is striking, firmly planting her readership in Eatonville. In understanding her roots, I was able to connect Their Eyes Were Watching God with the real-life influences that lead Hurston to write her novel.
However, after finishing this book, I do not feel that I gained any intimate knowledge of who Hurston truly was. Throughout her autobiography, she holds her readership at an arm’s length. The most intimate emotion she conveys involves her feelings of failure as a nine-year-old girl. Her dying mother implored her not to let them take away her pillow or cover the clocks in the room, as tradition apparently called for, but Zora was unable to convince the adults in the room to respect her wishes. After that, I was hoping she would continue to show how that moment impacted her life, but Hurston becomes more emotionally closed off as the book progresses. Even in her tales of a passionate, jealous love affair that spanned years, there was little emotional depth truly conveyed.
I am intrigued by her research on “Negro lies” (folktales), and her discussions of race were interesting, if not confusing.
Although it is not an intimate portrait of Hurston, it is an interesting tale of her life and definitely offers insight into her novels. The book itself is relatively straightforward, but the task of analyzing what went unsaid ended up being highly complex and occupied most of my time while reading. I recommend this book for anyone interested in the Harlem Renaissance or Ms. Hurston.
Hurston’s autobiography is fascinating. Her imagery is striking, firmly planting her readership in Eatonville. In understanding her roots, I was able to connect Their Eyes Were Watching God with the real-life influences that lead Hurston to write her novel.
However, after finishing this book, I do not feel that I gained any intimate knowledge of who Hurston truly was. Throughout her autobiography, she holds her readership at an arm’s length. The most intimate emotion she conveys involves her feelings of failure as a nine-year-old girl. Her dying mother implored her not to let them take away her pillow or cover the clocks in the room, as tradition apparently called for, but Zora was unable to convince the adults in the room to respect her wishes. After that, I was hoping she would continue to show how that moment impacted her life, but Hurston becomes more emotionally closed off as the book progresses. Even in her tales of a passionate, jealous love affair that spanned years, there was little emotional depth truly conveyed.
I am intrigued by her research on “Negro lies” (folktales), and her discussions of race were interesting, if not confusing.
Although it is not an intimate portrait of Hurston, it is an interesting tale of her life and definitely offers insight into her novels. The book itself is relatively straightforward, but the task of analyzing what went unsaid ended up being highly complex and occupied most of my time while reading. I recommend this book for anyone interested in the Harlem Renaissance or Ms. Hurston.