In an effort to decolonize my reading preferences I have been undertaking novels by black authors. Zora Neale Hurston is an important figure in African American Lit, and her story is fascinating, albeit sad, how an educated, prolific author, the recipient of 2 separate Guggenheim Fellowships could die penniless and be buried in a unmarked grave is hard to come to terms with. Hurston's impact on future writers is undeniable, Alice Walker the author of The Color Purple is the one who discovered and marked Hurston's grave in 1975.
This novel took me by surprise because its about white people! The foreword mentions this was last of Hurston's novels to be published. The foreword reads, "Hurston's second ambition involved a challenge to the literary conventions of the apartheid American society in which Hurston lived -- conventions she felt dictated that black writers and artists should be concerned only with representing black subjects." However, the wikipedia article on this book reads, "Seraph on the Suwanee is a 1948 novel by African-American novelist Zora Neale Hurston.[1] It is her last published novel, and was written after her publisher rejected two novels about black characters." So who knows.
The main character of this novel is Avary, a "cracker" (white trash Floridian) who achieves upward mobility after catching the eye of a handsome, sought-after Yankee Jim Meserve (although he does RAPE her early into the relationship, the more I read books written in the past the more I learn that rape was just HAPPENING ALL THE GODDAMN TIME). To me it was a story of a push-and-pull kind of love, of miscommunication, of a women's role in her family, in her marriage and of life in Florida at the time.
"This was a Sunday and the sawmill and the 'still was silent. No Yankees passing through. The Negroes were about their own doings in their own part of town, and white Sawley [home-town of the main character] was either in church or on the way."
I found this quote interesting because I feel like it speaks to the fact this is a story about white people coming from a black author, in the way that black people in the story are not ignored, the society is segregated but that does not mean that the other side doesn't exist.
Did I like this book? Avary bugged the hell out of me, at times I was hate-reading as she seemed dead set on being miserable. But it was also relatable, the way you can get so indignant and worked up about what you imagine other people think of you, regardless if it is rooted in reality. I don't know, I still feel very confused about the whole thing, the romance, although strong, was not one I particularly wanted to root for.