Here are some questions you might want to comment on in relation to Song of Solomon. But, of course, you should feel free to respond to anything else in the book that particularly interested you.
- Discuss the novel’s title and how it reverberates throughout.
- Talk about the novel as a quest.
- Discuss the significance of history or the past in the book.
- Look at either Macon Dead II, Ruth, Pilate, or Hagar and discuss this character’s function in the novel.
- Examine a particularly memorable image or recurring motif in the novel (Ruth’s watermark, eggs, gold/ginger, the rose petals sewn by Lena and Corinthians, the peacock, etc.) What function does this symbol seem to serve?
- Discuss the emphasis on names and naming in the novel. Perhaps examine individual character’s names? Talk about the relationship between names and history?
- What are we supposed to think about Guitar Baines and The Seven Days? Is Guitar an appealing character or an appalling character?
- Provide a close reading of the very end of the novel. How are we supposed to read and interpret what happens here?
I love Toni Morrison. She has always been a role model for me, as well as my highest source of inspiration to pursue an MFA. Her novels are so rich and loaded with significance that they would require pages and pages to elaborate on and discuss everything with the depth they deserve. Like in all her other works, The Song of Solomon shows several trends that have caught my attention, like the quest, which is one of my favorite narrative structures; the magic realism and the introduction of folkloric elements and legends, like the one about the flying Africans which I found especially appealing as a way to outsmart the system; and the allegiance between African Americans and Natives. But the theme that I found most insightful is patriarchism.
Black patriarchism is a topic I feel close to because it presents the same toxic dynamics as Italian patriarchism. I don’t want to sound too personal but only in the latest years I’ve realized how culture can influence the individual’s life for the worst, and how toxic patriarchism has been for women. In fact, it’s been the main root of women’s issues since the dawn of time. I’m aware that I haven’t reinvented the wheel, of course, but I also think that there are layers and layers of understanding, and I found this novel especially helpful for advancing my understanding on the matter. Therefore, all my sympathy goes to the feminine characters, and since my sympathy usually goes to the losers, the derelict, and the unlucky ones, it goes to Hagar, Ruth, Lena, and Corinthians, rather than Pilate, although the latter stands as a role model too —as much as her author— for her contempt for money, men, and what it’s considered socially appropriate. I deeply loved her: the woman who knows how to handle herbs, the fearless leader, the wine bootlegger. She reminded me of Maricat from We Have Always Lived in the Castle. Or to be precise, what would have become of Maricat if we could follow her throughout the rest of her life. I found Pilate one of the most appealing characters of worldly literature. Still, my sympathy goes to the others. Or maybe rather than sympathy, I should call it solidarity. Ruth is the typical mid-twentieth century, new upper-class woman. In order to maintain the social status conquered by her family rather than gifted, the only goal of these poor women was to marry well. The prices that they had to pay, behind closed doors, to maintain the façade of respectability is a mystery nobody cared about as long as it accomplished its function: to hypocritically maintain the surface of social achievement unstained. In the case of Ruth, this price was living a life of “lovinglessness” and constant abuse by her narcissistic, delusional husband. Even more tragic is the life situation of her daughters, treated like dolls and completely “deresponsabilized” since everybody expected from them that, at their turn, they would marry well too, following the same miserable path as their mother. They were educated but not trained for any profession, totally unskilled, and therefore made totally incapable, because a useless person is easily manipulated and easily enslaved, which is exactly what the world expects from women. To be precise, they weren’t even totally useless since they were trained for the dumbest of all the possible activities they could apply themselves to: cutting rose petals, a total insult to human intelligence, a way to demean women to the level of little girls, and a way to highlight their hopeless uselessness —except for producing children like cows and being a good accessory for their husband to show around like a car, a watch, or whatever other status symbol. Which is pretty much the same that still nowadays happens within the bourgeois realm or in backward countries like my own, where specifically a big disgraceful institution stands to prevent any potential gender improvement: the Vatican —actually, over the centuries we witnessed a little improvement: they stopped burning us at the stakes, although I’m pretty sure they would love to continue this tradition if they had the chance. But I don’t want to go off topic. Lena and Corinthians were living their insipid, purposeless life until, in the case of Corinthians, something went awry. She fell in love with a yardman, disrupting the expectations her family had reposed in her to marry well. I found Corinthians’ circumstances mostly upsetting for its crude realism. In the best possible world, she would have disrupted her family’s expectations by running away to New York City and pursuing a PhD, or by remaining in Paris and living as a bohemian —although in the best possible world, women wouldn’t need to run away to do something for themselves, because they wouldn’t be constantly pushed down, walked over, and treated as if they are dumb and unworthy. But the most tragic character of all was Hagar. In fact, although deprived of any practical utility, at least Lena and Corinthians received an education which provided them with some level of critical thinking and self-awareness —the discourse Lena does to Milkman proves this statement to be true— and with some capability of handling their emotions. Hagar wasn’t provided with any of these skills, in fact she ended up crushed under the burden of her overwhelming love —or what she identified with love. I know it sounds like a childish spirit of revenge which seems incoherent with my harsh judgement about Guitar that I will mention later, but honestly, I really had hoped until the end that she would have been successful in killing Milkman, instead of losing herself in such a way. A sacrifice worth nothing since, while she was dying, he was sleeping with Sweet down South and, as he reckons to himself, he threw her away like a wad of chewing gum after it lost its flavor. She doesn’t even receive much empathy from Guitar, who, although trying to help her, judges her as a spoiled child who threw a tantrum over a fad, namely Milkman, who doesn’t want to please her desires the way she is used to, which would bring me to another topic: both Guitar and Milkman are two appalling characters for me, the first for his blind spirit of revenge at the expense of innocent people, causing idiotically an endless circle of violence, and the latter for his irresponsibility and selfishness. But this is a topic for another day.
I also loved this novel. I found the dynamic between Guitar and Milkman most interesting. They almost mirror each other—Milkman spends his 20’s indifferent to others and disconnected from any sense of community. He does not care about his parents’ problems and wishes that they wouldn’t tell him about them. He sleeps with Hagar until he gets bored of her, he neglects all courtesy and compassion to the people in his life despite the sacrifices they have made for him.
Meanwhile, Guitar, as a member of the 7 Days, is incredibly concerned about his social responsibility and what he can do for his community. He tells Milkman that he is solely motivated by love for his people, and the need to act in the face of racist violence. However, as Milkman travels South in search of the gold that Macon and Pilate found as children, he slowly moves out of his selfish shell as he learns about his ancestral heritage and finds a way to truly connect with his community and roots, recognizing his own selfishness as he does so. Conversely, Guitar becomes obsessed with gold and turns into the thing he despises—a murderer of black people, turning on his childhood friend and shooting Pilate dead.
I think this points towards the importance of connection with your community. As Guitar’s cruelty and violence separate him from his community, barring him from marrying and alienating him from Milkman, Milkman finally connects with community, culminating in his discovery of Solomon and final song for Pilate.
Hi Catherine! I really appreciate how you point out the way Milkman and Guitar mirror each other. I caught on to the change in Milkman while he was lost in the woods, how he finally seemed to think beyond himself and try to see the perspective of the people he met during his trip through the country. Finally, Milkman realizes how he “thought he deserved only to be loved…and given what he wanted” instead of earning that love through connecting with community (277). To me, this is where the “quest” element comes in, a quest where the protagonist goes off in pursuit of tangible or material treasures but gains more from the lessons they learn along the way. The flipping of Milkman and Guitar during this quest in the country feels very mythic to me; Milkman becomes impassioned and eager to learn about his heritage and gain community among his people, while Guitar starts with this connection and slowly loses this connection when he becomes enthralled by material objects. This flipping is oddly more satisfying to me, I want more depth than a simple redemptive arc to a character can provide; I want a rise and a fall, a circular, ouroboros motif to highlight the folly and futility of life.
Song of Solomon is one of those books that lives up to its billing and accolades, and the late Toni Morrison is one of the giants of American literature. There are so many layers of symbolism and meaning in this novel that I could read it a dozen more times and still not fully grasp its depth. The religious and historical underpinnings, the realities of racism, the lure of wealth and the power of family secrets combine to create a highly complex narrative that stirred a range of emotions in me.
Milkman is the character I identified with most because of the growth and maturity he undergoes over the course of the novel as he seeks to learn his family’s history and his own. Though he bears some responsibility for Hagar’s death, I read Hagar’s character as battling some type of mental illness, and I think Milkman used her to satisfy his sexual urges. He seems to recognize his complicity in her death late in the story.
I love Morrison’s language and use of rhythm, especially in the dialogue between Milkman and Guitar. Guitar is a troubling character to me. He is doing what he thinks is right for his people by joining the Seven Days to retaliate against the killing of Black people at the hands of white people, but the way he turns and pursues Milkman in pursuit of the gold shows his true and greedy nature. I don’t think there ever was any gold – it’s an illusion.
The story of Pilate’s long and brave journey around the country, picking fruit and trying to hide her flat navel, is among my favorite sections of the book. I admire Pilate’s strength and determination. She is everything that her brother Macon is not.
The last couple chapters are so full of action and new names that I got confused at times about the family tree. The theme of flying and escape, in the context of human enslavement, is deeply moving. The stark differences in attitudes and culture between Black people in Michigan and the South also were striking.
I despised Macon Dead Sr. He shows very little growth in the novel, and his treatment of Ruth and his other family members is despicable.
I have never read Toni Morrison before this, but having heard of her work for YEARS at this point, I was so excited to get to this novel. And, boy, was I not disappointed. I chose to do the audiobook for my read through out of convenience, and Morrison herself did the narration. As an aside, I would highly recommend listening to her reading of the novel. There is a strong lyrical, poetic way she reads the novel that just made it come more alive to me than if I had read it straight on my own.
I am not a religious person, so having never read the Bible (old or new testament) I had to do a little research on the significance of the The Songs of Solomon from the Bible and a lot of the characters names from Morrison’s novel and their role in the history of Christianity. Ultimately Song of Solomon from the bible – they are love stories. The love stories having been defined (from the Bible) in many different ways, whether that be the love of God to the Israelites or Christ’s love for the Church.
It’s easy for me to see that Morrison leaned on the use of poetic and lyrical story-telling abilities to tell a sort of love story of her own. This was her way of showing love, in all the good, bad, and ugly forms, between partners or families or communities of people. I can see the title symbolized throughout the novel – calling back to the biblical roots – not only in the name of the Dead Family as biblical names (Pilate, Ruth, First Corinthians, Hagar… I could go on…), but each of these character’s stories can be likened to their similar characters/stories in the Bible – although Pilate seems to be the antithesis of her biblical counterpart. Pilate being the individua in the bible to sell out Jesus and have him executed, to Pilate Dead being a strong, moral center of the novel and a deeply loving individual. I appreciate her character so much more knowing the significance of the name “Pilate” – which is addressed in the novel – but I wasn’t totally understanding of. She seems to be the opposite of her namesake, which I enjoyed Morrison’s ability to flip that on it’s head.
There’s a wealth of knowledge and history in this book that I am still digging into. It felt to me that understanding the history of the Bible adds so much more depth to the story that I realized. I don’t think NOT KNOWING it distracts from the novel, but as I keep researching, I am finding more and more connections and deeper meaning and symbolism to the story and characters that Morrison wrote here.
I will definitely be reading this one again!
I love this novel – the way it walks in this space between realism and myth, exploring how one can bleed into the other. The relationships between our names and our identities – who we are, where we are from – seems central. First, consider Pilate – named for Pontius Pilate, and perhaps seems just that treacherous to her brother, Macon Dead II. But the pronunciation calls to mind “pilot” – and she does serve a guiding role in the story – without her memories, her stories, Milkman would never have found his roots or wings. But unlike many of the characters, Pilate literally owns her name – she carries the paper on which her father wrote the name (the only thing he ever wrote) in a box hanging from her ear. The name provides a link between her and her history, and she guards it, keeps it near. (And even more than the earring, she has been unknowingly carrying her fathers bones for most of her life. She literally carried the past for her family, serving as a link to their roots, their history.)
In contrast, many of the other main characters have names that provide no link to their histories, no clue as to their identity. Macon Dead carries the name given to his father by a drunk white man, filling out a form. Both Milkman and Guitar have names given to them for things that happened in their childhoods that they do not themselves remember. “Milkman” has a softer feel to it, and coming from his prolonged breast feeding, it might lead one to think he’s a “momma’s boy”, but he’s really more a reflection of both of his parents – concerned with appearance, associating with the right people. But what does a milkman really do? He delivers sustenance, and that’s what Milkman does in the end, delivers his family’s history back to Pilate, his father, and his sisters. “Guitar”, in contrast, feels “edgier” than a “milkman”. But his response to the racism and atrocities is ultimately no more productive than Milkman’s choice to ignore them, and I couldn’t help but think that he was, like an instrument, being played – not by the 7 Days, but by the world they were so quietly and terribly in rebellion against.
Milkman spends the first half of the novel as a passive character, mostly living a comfortable life and complaining that it doesn’t always suit his desires. But when he decides to try to retrieve the sack of gold from the cave in Pennsylvania, he changes his fate. And it is only when he begins to decode the children’s song of Solomon that he begins to recognize his own history – feel what it is like to have roots, to have an identity linked to people beyond his immediate family. The power he feels in that connection speaks to what is taken from people who are stolen from their families and identities, severed from their past.
I guess what I’m most curious about is the significance of fathers in the story. Toni Morrison wrote about her father in the forward and how his death affected her. Then in the story, both Ruth and Pilate have lost their fathers. The novel itself is named after the protagonist’s father’s father’s father. I think family history is so important in the story and that it plays a central role in what the story itself is trying to say. I keep thinking about how Milkman went to a cave looking for gold, but instead wound up learning about (or I guess found) Pilate’s father. I’m wondering what this symbolizes in reference to roots. Thinking back to the title of the story and the story surrounding the great grandfather Solomon, I’m wondering if it is really a story talking about reconnecting with the past and where you come from. And the importance of money plays a huge part too seeing as human life is dispensable when money is involved. Macon Dead is a rich man. Ruth, though she struggled greatly throughout her life, did not have to worry about money when she married her husband and was able to give birth in a whites only hospital where medical care is likely better. This is because of money. The roles of women in the story is quite sad too. I’m honestly quite excited to talk about this story in class!