Exploring Love, Spirituality and the Black Experience in “Their Eyes Were Watching God”, a Book Review

[Excerpt from Fleury’s book: Chain Letter To America: The One Thing You Can Do To End Racism, A Collection of Essays, Fiction and Poetry Celebrating Multiculturalism]

“Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board. For some they come in with the tide. For others they sail forever on the horizon, never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of men. Now, women forget all the things they don’t want to remember and remember everything they don’t want to forget. The dream is the truth. Then they act and do things accordingly.”

So begins Zora Neal Hurston’s epic story about an emotional and spiritual journey of self-discovery. Through my incessant study of literature and the craft of writing, I have learned that what grabs a reader right from the onset of a story is by having a fully formed voice and vision that prepares us to go along for the ride; that we will be transported elsewhere to another reality.

In honor of Black History Month, the historical inauguration of America’s first Black President and Valentine’s Day, I’ve decided to offer a dichotomous exploration of variant thematic ideologies of love and Black literary contributions to American culture and “Their Eyes Were Watching God” allows me to do just that.

“A graduate of Barnard…, Zora Neal Hurston published seven books—four novels, two books of folklore, and an autobiography—more than fifty shorter works between the middle of the Harlem Renaissance and the end of the Korean War, when she was the dominant Black woman writer in the United States. The dark obscurity in which her career then lapsed reflects her staunchly independent political stances rather than any deficiency of craft and vision,” writes Henry Louis Gates, Jr. in the afterward to Their Eyes.

Hurston, whose life spanned between the years 1891 and 1960, was a novelist, folklorist and anthropologist. Her fictional and factual writings of Black Heritage remain unparalleled. “Their Eyes Were Watching God” is Hurston’s most highly praised novel and is considered a classic among the best of Black literature.

Their Eyes recounts the story of Janie Crawford’s burgeoning selfhood through three marriages with loving empathy and stinging urgency. Janie, who is described as “fair- skinned, long haired and dreamy as a child” advances in years to anticipate better treatment than she actually receives; that is until she has an unexpected encounter with an amusing, smooth and fast talking younger roustabout named Tea Cake, who entices her into an emotional and spiritual journey that will change her life forever. He proffers to her an opportunity to see herself and life through his eyes without being regrettably adorned with the formerly disparaging labels of being “one man’s mule” or another man’s wallflower through her previous two marriages.

Over the course of the story, the character of Janie unfolds, as she will learn that she does not have to succumb to living a life ripe with rife, acrimony or maladroit romantic dreams. Towards the end of the story, the reader will learn in Janie’s words: “two things everybody’s got tuh do fuh themselves. They got tuh go tuh God and they got tuh find out about livin’ fuh themselves,” since her character struggles with the incessant panoptic surveillance and potentially spirit crushing criticism of her neighbors.

Every good writer or story-teller has to have motif and Hurston’s Their Eyes is swimming in a crystal clear blue- eyed sea of symbolism. In Their Eyes she uses an overworked, underfed and tormented mule to illustrate the dire living conditions of her main character Janie, what she endures on her way to spiritual, emotional, and physical freedom and awakening. Her depiction of Janie’s life of strife serves not only to demonstrate essentially the mistreatment of Janie as “one man’s mule and another man’s adornment”, it also attests to the meager living conditions of women, that is to say in terms of oppression and maltreatment, during her time period. Since she died right at the cusp of both the Civil Rights and the Women’s Equal Rights Movements, Hurton’s Their Eyes would go on to achieve greater respect and acknowledgement as an indispensable part of Black literature.

Also in Hurston’s novel, I was particularly enthralled by her use of Black vernacular speech (i.e. go tuh God…livin’ fuh theyselves…) to chronicle her Black female characters’ coming to the best of their being or emerging consciousness. In his afterward, Henry Louis Gates offers a keen observation of some of the most indispensible key elements regarding the deceptively simple trajectory of Hurston’s story. He writes that “The Charting of Janie Crawford’s fulfillment as an autonomous imagination, Their Eyes is a lyrical novel that correlates the needs of her first two husbands for ownership of progressively larger physical space (and the gaudy accoutrements of upward mobility) with the suppression of self awareness in their wife. Only with her third and last lover, a roustabout called Tea Cake whose unstructured frolics center around and about the Florida swamps, does Janie at last blooms…”

In other words, towards the end of the story, Janie did not find love and happiness as presumably defined by her first two husbands by the often superficial veneers of status and ownership of fancy property, ironically she found the bond of love, God and community living by a swamp with a mere unrefined and uneducated vagrant whose only means of sustaining Janie was through a daily dosage of love, laughter and whatever he could muster with his bare hands to put food on the table.

Therefore in honor of Black History Month, you will find that in “Their Eyes Were Watching God” concurrent themes of Hope, love, and an affirmation of Black Heritage are enough to make you want to put Their Eyes on your reading list this February.

Jacques Fleury is a Boston Globe featured Haitian-American Poet, Educator, Author of four books and literary arts student at Harvard University online. His latest publication “You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self”  & other titles are available at all Boston Public Libraries, the University of Massachusetts Healey Library, University of  Wyoming, Askews and Holts Library Services in the United Kingdom, The Harvard Book Store, The Grolier Poetry Bookshop, Amazon etc… 

He has been published in prestigious  publications such as Muddy River Poetry Review, the Cornell University Press anthology Class Lives: Stories from Our Economic Divide, Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene among others…Visit him here.

La Boheme   class signifiers at intermission




she sucks the juice of grapefruit over the kitchen sink




dozing off in tassel rue
the emptiness
of sin




scent of crushed sage through the loophole in the cinder block wall




the evaporating puddle I'm in




by now he's entering the diamond-mansion heart of Saint Teresa




the liquid mercury nail heads on the gray planks at sunset




the fallen arches of the Donegal mussel catcher




sheltering in place on a hairpin of jade




oatmeal cookies for the unsung genius in plumbing supply




the skinflint's only Latin phrase





six realms and I'm dragging my ass in this one




imprisoned by his attention to the insignificant




in physics, he would entertain no more questions about hula dancers in outer space




why do I have to hear about how miserable you would've been




the accuracy of the mad

light snowfall tonight
but no accumulation
oatmeal for dinner


—


cups of coffee at
eleven-thirty at night
can’t find my ear drops


—


bus leaves without me
guess I’ll stay home & try out
those detergent sheets


—


bio/graf

J. D. Nelson’s poems have appeared in many publications, worldwide, since 2002. He is the author of eleven print chapbooks and e-books of poetry, including *purgatorio* (wlovolw, 2024). Nelson’s first full-length collection is *in ghostly onehead* (Post-Asemic Press, 2022). Visit his website, MadVerse.com, for more information and links to his published work. His haiku blog is at JDNelson.net. Nelson lives in Boulder, Colorado, USA.

   
                                                          Eary Problem

This problem has led to marital problems because of my persistence.  I just don’t want to quit despite its reputations for causing health problems.  I’ve had to have something extracted from my ear canal because of my compulsion, but q-tips feel so good in my ears.  Am I the only one with outer ear itching?

                                                          Head Scratcher

This should be a private vice, but it is so ingrained sometimes I do it in public.  Eczema or dermatitis makes my eyebrows, beard and hair itch.  Nothing I’ve tried has eliminated the dry, itchy rashes.  Quitting drinking would be easier.

                                                           Child (dibble and a half)

My father read the Oz books to my sister and I at bedtime.  To refresh my memory I bought a set of Oz books.  I used to listen to Cinnamon Bear stories in the late ‘40s and early ‘50s.  I bought the cds so I could listen again.  A few years ago I restarted playing softball.  As a child I did childish things.  That still works now that I’m eighty, so I’m keeping at it.

                                                          Negotiation

You will have the sun and the stars.  I’ll take care of you in sickness and health.  You’ll have a lovely home and no worries.  All I ask is that you love me too.
Will you lower my taxes?
I can’t do that.
Then I’m voting for the other guy.

                                                          Maroon

I like my aloha shirts.  I feel that a colorless person - me – should have colorful shirts.  Solids are OK if they are out there – orange or maroon.  My maroon shirt fits well, feels good, and looks good.  It’s OK that it’s a dead man’s shirt.  He can’t use it.

                                                           Joints

Our joints allow us a variety of movements until they don’t.  Learn from this arthritic old man.  Years of jumping from heights, lifting excessive weights with bad form and repetitive strain left me with bad knees, one bad shoulder and one questionable one.  Treat them right and they will last.

                                                       Game Over
 
Last inning, behind by two runs.  I got a walk, and there were three on base.  The next batter could tie or win the game.  The manager replaced two of us with pinch runners, which caused our second and third outs for batting out of order.  We lost, I quit.
                                                        Time

A few months ago, I tried to get in touch with a woman that I went to grade school with to organize another get together.  Cheryl had been an insurance adjuster and had kept track of our grade school graduating class.  She had died in memory care three months ago.

                                                      Rejection?

The response to my submission was “Nicht include”.  Sounded like a rejection.  Was my sub too political?  Should villains have gotten away with plotting the destruction of much of the world?  The next day I got an email explaining that the rejection was a typo.  Story will appear tomorrow.  Woo-hoo!

                                                           Pitch
He had been following her for over an hour.  Just his luck, she walked into an alley.  When he followed her, she reached into her bag.  When he became conscious she was picking up a baseball by his head.  “Don’t stalk the star pitcher on my baseball team you creep.”

                                                         Spill Rules

One second for spilled tequila, whisky, or gin drinks to be sucked out of the carpet.  Chocolate, peanut butter, or wheat thins three second pick up, most other food the usual five seconds.  Brussel sprouts, cauliflower, broccoli, or most cooked vegetables, next time carpet is vacuumed, and into the garbage.

                                                           Scatterbrain


Odd remembrances haunt my lazy, bored brain.  Almost drowning when very young.  The now great grandmother and widow that I made out with sixty years ago.  A small clothing store that I walked past in Portland fifty plus years ago.  The traumatized beauty that abruptly rejected me while in college.


                                               Northeast Portland Years Ago 
 
As a teenager, I was walking through Northeast Portland to get to a friend’s house.  An older male pulled up and asked something like “Do I know you?”  I didn’t and told him so.  He wanted to know if I wanted a ride.  I was a bit nervous and passed. 



                                                                   Oval

Joe asked the man next to him “Do you believe this flying saucer nonsense?”
“No it’s absurd.  The ships are Oval.”
”Huh?”
“Aliens aren’t little green men.  We come in many colors.”
“Where do you get these ideas?”
“I’m an Oval pilot - check my pants.  I’ve got four legs

                                  How Old Do I Look?

About forty on the average.  
What do you mean on the average? 
 Your face is an 80 and your body is a 30.  
Wait a minute, that averages 55.  
Well, the guy part is about 10.
So, to look younger I should stop wearing pants? 

                                               Memories

I worried that I had age-related memory loss.  Editor would tell me it’s a hike day, minutes later I wouldn’t know.  Then I repeatedly saw two men in black suits walking away from me.  Because I had seen the movie, I knew it wasn’t age, it was Men In Black.
 
                                                     The End

First of all, letting everyone know that we’ve picked a date for the Hayward Lit Hop, a community festival with different readings and events up and down B Street in Hayward, CA.

The third annual Lit Hop will take place the afternoon of Saturday, April 27th and we encourage everyone reading this who is in the area to attend! More information and a video clip showing off the Hop and how it works here on our website.

Secondly, Clare Songbirds Publishing House (CSPH) is launching its inaugural Elizabeth Royal Patton Memorial Poetry Competition. More about poet and English teacher Elizabeth Royal Patton here.

The Elizabeth Royal Patton Memorial Poetry Competition will be blind judged by a panel of five judges and cash prizes will be awarded to the top three poems. An anthology will be published with all the poems that make it through the first round of judging and each poet with an entry in the anthology will receive a free copy. All submissions must be sent via Submittable and the full rules and the link are here. The submission period will be from February 1 through April 18, 2024.

Now, for this month’s second issue, Grief and Joy. These feelings coexist here in abundance.

Nosirova Gavhar offers up a playful and happy glimpse of winter while windswept canyons drive E.T.’s speaker to silence.

Nigora Togaeva revels in the natural and cultural beauty and richness of the Uzbek region of Kashkadarya. Sayani Mukherjee’s work radiates the beauty of a cluster of golden poppies. Mahbub Alam remembers the wondrous scenes he’s seen in person and in his mind’s eye.

Peter Magliocco also speaks of memory, and aging and fading romantic and sexual desire while J.D. Nelson expresses his quiet weariness facing everyday life and its mishaps.

Taylor Dibbert reflects on the life of his beloved dog. Isabel Gomes de Diego surrounds us with our mortality with her images of the Chapel of Bones in Evora, Portugal while Bill Tope’s taut horror story presents retribution for thefts from beyond the grave.

Stephen Jarrell Williams speaks of different types of loss: the lack of physical and relational and spiritual homes, a departure on a train, and the fading of sunshine. George Gad Economou shares his booze-fueled dreams of leaving the past behind to move into the future.

Faleeha Hassan’s speaker plods along on a heavy wagon ride weighed down by sorrow. Safarova Zarnigor expresses the angst of being an old soul looking for love in a new world while J.J. Campbell searches for connection in a lonely town and stage of life.

Eva Lianou Petropolou laments how the children of Gaza will come of age in a time punctuated by war. Mykyta Ryzhykh speculates on unheard perspectives and untold stories buried under rubble. John Mellender relates a night in jail after an intense political protest in mock-epic verse while Daniel De Culla makes a mockery of the obscenity of war and power-hungry leaders. Walter Shulits also lambastes American political and economic power brokers in his epic series of poems while Ian Copestick blasts racism in law enforcement.

Sabrid Jahan Mahin urges us to be strong in a harsh and selfish world. Gulsanam Qurbonova encourages readers to think positively and avoid useless gossip while Lobar Davronova encourages moderation in the use of social media.

Yoldosheva Farangiz illustrates the transformation of a boy guided away from a life of mindless distraction to one of study. Guzal Sunnatova thanks her sister and her teacher for their encouragement to write and study poetry.

Tolquinboyeva Odinaxon writes of awakenings, moving from a hot summer to a fresh new autumn school year.

Continuing with the school theme, Sevinch Tulquinova describes technical tools that can help college students learn language. Meylieva Zebiniso discusses psychological and pedagogical teaching techniques. Madina Fayzullayeva points out resources to help students organize and cite research papers. Baratov Quvonchbek encourages students to learn fundamentals of media literacy to be able to evaluate information. Maftuna Umaraliyeva discusses methods of helping English language learners grasp idioms while Asilabonu Sobirova outlines ways to help English language learners improve their reading skills.

Alan Catlin constructs numbered short verses that link ideas and fragments in unusual, but resonant, ways. Vernon Frazer joins and juxtaposes fragments to suggest nebulous processes: the slow destruction of a reputation, the passage of human history. Patrick Sweeney crafts thoughtful one-liners that request multiple readings.

Shahnoza Ochildiyeva exults in the many wonderful summer activities available to Uzbek school children. Gulasal Nematjanavna highlights the optimism of and the opportunities open to Uzbekistan’s fresh generation of youth leaders.

Bangladeshi poet Muntasir Mamun Kiron extols the glorious historical tradition conveyed in the Bangla language. Barnokhan Ruziyeva describes academic programs in linguistics and translation that propel Uzbekistan into thought leadership in those fields.

Zuhra Ruzmetova finds nurturance in the bosom of her motherland of Uzbekistan. Others find care and companionship in more personal relationships.

Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa celebrates life and friendship in pieces that peal with gentle musicality. Annie Johnson evokes the sweet comfort of sleep and memories of love and care.

Elmaya Jabbarova evokes the mysteries of how love begins, and how it fades. Graciela Noemi Villaverde suggests that passionate love can bring us to a form of divine eternity in our own minds while Maja Milojkovic compares deep, spiritual love to religious practice. Kristy Raines’ speaker describes a close intimate relationship that has brought her comfort and peace.

Ahmad Al-Khatat urges men who have found true love to appreciate the women dear to them. John Edward Culp invites listeners to hear love’s eternal story. Duane Vorhees describes sensuality and human thought and feeling through clever metaphor.

Jerry Langdon crafts a love poem that resembles a pop song, along with describing serious depression.

Mesfakus Salahin draws on religious and natural metaphors to convey grief. Dildora Toshtemirova mourns but looks forward to better days.

Diyora Kholmatjonova poetically grieves her departed mother while Sevinch Omonova encourages hers to find happiness in life. Nilufar Tokhtaboydva urges respect for parents due to the countless ways parents care and sacrifice for their children.

Gulsevar Xojamova provides a poignant reminder that not everyone has parental support while Akramova Shiringul Furqatjon illustrates the miracles that can happen through compassion and noticing the suffering people around us.

Nilufar Ergasheva illustrates her family and village navigating the change of seasons and a long winter, while Christopher Bernard’s poem points out small ways people hold onto warmth and the hope of spring in a bleak midwinter.

Mark Young’s “geographies” suggest maps and construction and our built and natural environments while Brian Barbeito finds the extraordinary in seemingly daily natural scenes, drawing on alien and spiritual metaphors.

We hope that this issue will help you find the beauty and grace in daily life, where pain, ecstasy, comfort and wonder all make up the panoply of our experiences.

Mother laugh… Mom, laugh, let go of sadness,

This world is not full. Rejoice and be filled with happiness,

I forget the pain. Mom, laugh, stop Pox from your feet,

See my happy fate, My dreams lead to happiness‌‌

Hisar is a spring that opens its eyes in the heart of the mountain ranges: first it merges into a stream, then into a river, and it is a land that shares life with endless deserts.  A country with four seasons in its bosom, the mornings are bright and the days are magnificent.  Bagri is an oasis with countless natural resources, minerals, and underground reserves.  The people are very hardworking!  At the same time, from afar, you can hear the hooting of galloping horses and the screams of riders who have entered the field.  These traditions, combined with beautiful melodies, indicate that ancient values ​​are still alive.  Listen, it seems as if the sounds of thirst are being heard from somewhere… It is an expression of a land that is angry with those who interfere with the peace and tranquility of the eternal ice stable in its mountains, and the blue fire that burns in the expanses of Avazchol is kind to its friends and cares for its guests.

 Kashkadarya!  A place of sweet fruits enjoying the generous sunlight… Kochkak figs, Kasbi almonds, Varganza pomegranates and Pandiron apples are world famous.  It is not for nothing that the popularity of Kashkadarya tandiri and Chiyali’s yakhsin has traveled all over the world.  You won’t find these mouth-watering dishes in any other country.

 You can see the national achievements of Shahri Kesh and its unique values ​​from Shahrisabzcha embroidery.  Your heart is full of sophistication.  It is this passion that will lead you to the places where classical music and status are pulsating.

 Like my grandfather, the fertile mountains of Wokham speak of the past.  The ancient monuments – cisterns – erected on the side of the caravan routes seem to confirm that the words “earth” and “mother” are twin concepts.  Yes, this is a fertile and blessed land like our mother: The ruins of Erkurgan, which lie in ruins for centuries, are a story from a great past.  Therefore, it is the land that gave birth to the great world leader, who has the potential to shine in Samarkand.  You say that the scholars have not found perfection in it.  Hazrat Beshir in the book, Langar father in Kamashi, Abu Mo’in Nasafi in Qavchin, Sultan Mir Haidar in Kasbi, Qusam Sheikh father in Kason, Zanjirsarai in Mubarak, Nasafis, Pazdawis’ footsteps have stood in this blessed soil.

 The glorious history of this land is proof of its great future.  This is the proof of the fact that the remote areas, which were far from the vision yesterday, have become a huge creative field today.  The mountains of Dehkanabad, which have been suffering from the pain of the road for centuries, look like a traveler with a diamond belt around his waist and riding towards the future.  Large-scale factories and enterprises are being built and are leading the world in terms of efficiency and production capacity.Similar positive changes are visible in all other districts, towns and villages of the oasis.  The feeling of anxiety about the next day leaves the mind.  Feelings of gratitude take its place.  Basharti, this is a ladder thrown into the future, in these schools, which are already vocational schools, I and my peers, the generation that will come after us, will work for the sake of the country, for the prosperity of the country…

 Summary:

 Dear friends, let’s be proud to be children of such a country!  Compatriot, let’s honor this creative nation.  It is worth seeing every bit of this country.  Let’s not forget that we are responsible for its development and prosperity.  Let’s always remember that we are involved in the fate of this country.  Indeed, our perfection is reflected in the beauty of our country.  My motherland, which unites the young and honors the old, is as dear as bread itself…

 So dear, so blessed,

 Water, soil, sun, moon.

 Heaven is actually in my country,

 It’s so beautiful…

 I am proud to be from Kashkadarya!

Togaeva Nigora Kudratovna, a journalist of the Kashkadarya regional television and radio company, a promoter of creative and cultural affairs of the 58th general secondary school in Kasbi district.