A short reflection/response to Toni Morrison’s Sula. 10/10 recommend.
Enjoy -- and stay curious.
In Toni Morrison’s Sula, the American novelist explores the changing relationship between Sula Peace and Nel Wright: two characters who are differentiated by their upbringings and core values but remain connected through the power of love. Though the magical elements of Sula’s world largely detach citizens of Medallion from reality, unconventional events such as “National Suicide Day” and mystic figures like Shadrack ultimately define community and turn shared suffering into a sense of belonging.
After returning from the war, Shadrack defies conventional norms by establishing a new holiday in an attempt to accept his suffering and express his feelings of self-hatred. Though the townspeople initially criticize the pessimism behind Suicide Day and characterize Shadrack as a miserable fool, the event soon “[becomes] a part of the fabric of life up in the Bottom of Medallion” (Morrison 16). In fact, during the concluding scenes of the novel, several other community members join Shadrack’s informal commemoration to come to terms with their life struggles. While there is significant danger in transforming the acceptance of misery into a celebration of misery, such decisions to reject socially-sanctioned paths and find unity in one’s misery are oddly beautiful. Nonetheless, citizens like Helene Wright who continue to disassociate themselves from Medallion’s oddities and simply “[watch] the ruckus with characteristic scorn” are ultimately left behind (160). The onlookers fail to understand that the roots of many miseries are often uncontrollable and courageously embracing one’s circumstances contributes to creating a supportive culture of acceptance.
The drastically different mannerisms of Shadrack raise an important question that is relevant to all societies: Does human life improve when we honor the established conventions of social order or when we reject them? Following the death of Chicken Little, Sula’s guilty sentiments lead her to the direction of Shadrack’s isolated cabin. Before Sula says anything, Shadrack “[nods] his head as though answering a question” and simply comments, “in a pleasant conversational tone, a tone of pooled butter, ‘Always’” (62). While the enigmatic statement initially confuses Sula, Shadrack’s true intentions were far from malicious: noticing Sula’s birthmark, Shadrack simply wanted to sympathize with her and “convince her, assure her, of permanency” (157). In this regard, enchanted figures like Shadrack become a valuable asset for Morrison as she aims to develop a narrative that urges readers to reconsider undervalued identities and look beyond the binary implications of “good/bad” or “normal/abnormal” that can unknowingly transform words into tools of oppression.
Works Cited
Morrison, Toni. Sula. New York City, Alfred A. Knopf, 2019.
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