Somebody to run to. It seem too sweet to bear.

The Color Purple by Alice Walker

Spoiler Alert: Plot Summary

The Color Purple is a story about identity, longing, resilience, racism, and the ability to thrive despite all barriers and obstacles. It follows the tale of Celie, and we start with her as a pregnant teenager, a situation for which her father is responsible. We're in the deep South (rural Georgia) in the 1930s, and we learn quickly that Celie's life is far from pretty. Her sister Nettie is her only friend and bright spot, but soon Celie is married off to a Mr. _____ (I'm not being withholding, that's just how he's referred to in the work) when she is all of fifteen. Both of her children (for she was pregnant once before, also by her Pa) have been taken from her, and she is unsure if they have been killed or given away. Through a small-town coincidence, Celie sees a young girl she believes to be her daughter with another black woman, Corinne, at the local store. The girl doesn't recognize her, and later Nettie ends up seeking out this woman, Corinne, because she leaves home and has no money to her name. Nettie ends up following Corinne, her husband Samuel, and the two children (Olivia and Adam, who turn out to both be Celie's children) to Africa (a few different countries within the continent) and set up as missionaries in a small town in Liberia with the Olinka people. 

Celie's life is no better with Mr. ______ than with Pa; he beats her frequently, tells her she's ugly, and forces her to care for his several children. Celie writes letters to God, and then to Nettie (never mailed, for she doesn't know where Nettie is) and Nettie writes back to Celie, but Celie doesn't get the letters until many years have passed, because it turns out that Mr. ________ tried to have his way with Nettie just before she left. She fought him off, and he said as punishment that Celie would never get her letters. 

Shug Avery enters the picture, a very fashionable and wealthy black woman who has been Mr. ________ (Albert is his first name)'s lover in the past. Celie falls for Shug, and Shug develops a deep love for Celie. When Shug finds out Albert has been beating Celie, she does everything in her power to put a stop to it. Albert's son, Harpo, marries a woman, Sofia, who ends up brutally beaten and sentenced to 12 years in jail because she 'sasses' a white woman (the mayor's wife) and hits her back after the woman slaps her in the face. Sofia ends being released from prison to work out her sentence by working for this same family as their maid. Around the time Sofia is finally freed and returned to her children (who no longer know her) Shug takes Celie off to Memphis. They have a happy time for a while, but Shug eventually falls for a young man, and Celie is heartbroken. Celie returns to Georgia when her Pa leaves her a home unexpectedly. She learned prior to his passing that he was, in fact, her stepfather, and that her real father was lynched. Nettie eventually returns from Africa, and though we think for a little while that the ship she and the rest of the family have returned home on has sunk (she marries Samuel after Corinne dies in Africa), they arrive at Celie's new home, and finally, after decades of sorrow, pain, loneliness, and sadness, Celie is whole again.

Spoiler Over: Continue Here

Dear Blobbists, 

I loved this book. I can't believe I had never read it, since it's definitely considered a classic, but I'm very glad that I had the chance to engage with it and enjoy it. In retrospect, I'm not sure I was ready for this book when I was younger, so perhaps this was the perfect time for me to find it. I have many thoughts...

On Shug Avery

I love the way Celie describes Shug. Lots of people are in love with Shug (short for Sugar) and I can totally see why. She's particularly striking because, unlike all the other black women in the story, she's wealthy, she's respected, and she's deeply loved. 

• Now when I dream of Shug Avery, She be dress to kill, whirling and laughing.

• She look so stylish it like the trees all round the house draw themself up tall for a better look.

On getting 'big'

This is how Celie refers to getting pregnant. I can't imagine being pregnant so young, and the incalculable trauma of it happening at the hands of her sole caretaker, and a man she believes to be her father.

• The first time I got big Pa took me out of school. He never care that I love it. I felt terrible for Celie, and I wanted to give her back her chance to stay in school. 

• Nettie still don't understand. I don't neither. All us notice is I'm all the time sick and fat. The only thing scarier than being pregnant that I can imagine (personal thing - pregnancy freaks me out) is being pregnant and not knowing what was going on. What incredible resilience and what a traumatic thing to live through.

On resilience

A common theme in this book is the idea that as a woman, and as a black woman, survival is really the only reasonable goal. At one point, Celie is asked why she doesn't fight back when Mr. ______ beats her. Here's her response: 

• I don't know how to fight. All I know how to do is stay alive.

And this mentality is cruelly internalized in Celie, so that when Harpo comes to her for advice on how to handle his wife, Sofia, who won't 'mind' him, and Harpo's dad, Mr. ______ says: 

Wives is like children. You have to let 'em know who got the upper hand. Nothing can do that better than a good sound beating. 

Celie, after marinating on it, says to Harpo, about Sofia:

Beat her. I say. 

And while I was saddened and horrified by this, this exchange then illuminated all that Celie was feeling: 

Sofia: You told Harpo to beat me. 

Celie: No, I didn't. 

Sofia: Don't lie. 

Celie: I didn't mean it. 

Sofia: Then what you say it for? 

Celie: I say it cause I'm a fool. I say it cause I'm jealous of you. I say it cause you do what I can't. 

Sofia: What's that? 

Celie: Fight. 

Sofia: She stand there a long time, like what I said took the wind out her jaws. She mad before, sad now. All my life I had to fight. I had to fight my daddy. I had to fight my brothers. I had to fight my cousins and my uncles. A girl child ain't safe in a family of men. But I never thought I'd have to fight in my own house. This was such an intense exchange, but also so beautifully articulated this complex jealousy in Celie and her desire for others to be brought down the way she was. 

This exchange was also intense, between Shug and Celie:

Celie: He beat me when you not here, I say. 

Shug: Who do, she say, Albert? 

Celie: Mr. ______, I say. 

Shug: I can't believe it, she say. She sit down on the bench next to me real hard, like she drop. What he beat you for? she ast. 

Celie: For being me and not you.

I think one of the things I loved most about this book were the continually unfolding layers of nuance. Alice Walker is not content to let you put "x" character in a box, or let you believe you know the outcome or the morality or the content of someone's character purely based on one assessment. Everyone is constantly changing in your mind as a reader because they are all products of their environment, and they're all subject to external factors that force you to reassess them. 

On quilts

I loved that one of the bright spots for Celie was quilt-making. Here's how Sofia and Celie make up after their exchange from above:

Sofia: Let's make quilt pieces out of these messed up curtains, she say. 

And I run git my pattern book. (The quilt pictured features a block Celie uses - Sister's Choice)

Then later...

Me and Sofia piecing another quilt together. I got bout five squares pieced, spread out on the table by my knee.  My basket full of scraps on the floor. 

There's a nice through line here, in that we see this in Liberia:

The Olinka men make beautiful quilts which are full of animals and birds and people. And as soon as Corrine saw them, she began to make a quilt that alternated one square of appliqued figures with one nine-patch block, using the clothes the children had outgrown, and some of her old dresses. 

On Sofia

Sofia is a badass, and because she is a black woman in the South in the 1930s, this is a recipe for an extremely difficult life. The exploration of black women and how they were both protected by and endangered by their own communities, as well as victimized and murdered by white people, is so painstakingly explored. 

When Sofia is attacked and placed in jail, Celie goes to see her. And Celie, who has been raped, abused, and beaten by her (step)father, and has been beaten over and over by her husband, is in a state of shock: 

When I see Sofia I don't know why she still alive. They crack her skull, they crack her ribs. They tear her nose loose on one side. They blind her in one eye. She swole from head to foot. Her tongue the size of my arm, it stick out tween her teef like a piece of rubber. She can't talk. And she just about the color of a eggplant. 

   Scare me so bad I near bout drop my grip. But I don't. I put it on the floor of the cell, take out comb and brush, nightgown, witch hazel and alcohol and I start to work on her. The colored tendant bring me water to wash her with, and I start at her two little slits for eyes. This is obviously a deeply difficult scene to read, and one that immediately brings names like Breonna Taylor and George Floyd to mind, among the numerous others over the centuries, and it makes my heart hurt to think that black women, in particular, are still so endangered by their everyday existence in America. We must continue to educate ourselves, activate our power and privilege where we can, and protect the Sofias and Breonnas and Claudette Colvins of the world. 

And then disturbingly, but naturally, Sofia's response to working in the prison laundry: 

Every time they ast me to do something, Miss Celie, I act like I'm you. I jump right up and do just what they say. 

But later, as Sofia gets more of herself back. 

I dream of murder, she say, I dream of murder sleep or wake. And all I could think was, who wouldn't?

On seeing her children again - Nobody told them I was coming, so they don't know who I is. The agony of this, the theme of children taken from their mother by agents beyond their control, is so poignant. 

And Sofia, on her boss, the mayor's wife, after this unexpected "gift" of the visit:

I spent fifteen minutes with my children. 

And she been going on for months bout how ungrateful I is. 

White folks is a miracle of affliction, say Sofia.

On Squeak going to see the warden

Things only go from bad to worse for women of color in the novel. While Sofia is in jail, Harpo is with another woman, Squeak. They try to get Squeak to go to the warden to try to get him to lighten Sofia's sentence, because, it turns out, Squeak is related to the warden (though of course he doesn't recognize or acknowledge being related to a black woman). To her dismay, he is not only unreceptive, he is violent: 

He took my hat off. Told me to undo my dress. She drop her head, put her face in her hands. 

My God, say Odessa, and he your uncle. 

He say if he was my uncle he wouldn't do it to me. That be a sin. But this just little fornication. Everybody guilty of that. 

She turn her face up to Harpo. Harpo, she say, do you really love me, or just my color?

Harpo say, I love you, Squeak. He kneel down and try to put his arms round her waist. 

She stand up. My name Mary Agnes, she say. 

This is another example of that nuance, and the complexities of blackness here; I wanted to hate Harpo because he beat Sofia, but he was only doing what his father told him to do. And then I wanted to resent him for moving on from Sofia, but he loves Squeak, and he cares for her in a way that she deeply needs, and they fight for Sofia, only to have Squeak get raped by her own uncle. 

On existence

So if you haven't come to this conclusion yet, you might be thinking, how can they stand it? How can black people then (and maybe sometimes now) not just want to murder us (white people) in their sleep? 

Sofia say to me today, I just can't understand it. 

What that? I ast. 

Why we ain't already kill them off. 

Three years after she beat she out of the wash house, got her color and her weight back, look like her old self, just all time think bout killing somebody. 

Too many to kill off, I say. Us outnumbered from the start. I speck we knock over one or two, though, here and there, through the years, I say. 

I thought of all the layers of pain and suffering and how much power and personhood was routinely taken from black people through slavery and afterwards, and I found myself thinking, I'd kill us, too. 

On meeting Grady

On a lighter note, I enjoyed Celie's response to meeting Shug's husband (who comes before her young man lover later on): 

This Grady, she say. This my husband. 

The minute she say it I know I don't like Grady. I don't like his shape, I don't like his teef, I don't like his clothes. Seem like to me he smell. lololololz. 

On learned ignorance

Another layer of nuance is Walker's exploration of missionary activities in Africa, as well as exploring American blackness in Africa. 

I loved this line, from one of Nettie's letters, about learning more Black history:

I hadn't realized I was so ignorant, Celie. The little I knew about my own self wouldn't have filled a thimble! And to think Miss Beasley always said I was the smartest child she ever taught! But one thing I do thank her for, for teaching me to learn for myself, by reading and studying and writing a clear hand. And for keeping alive in me somehow the desire to know. 

And this revelation later:

Oh, Celie, there are colored people in the world who want us to know! Want us to grow and see the light! They are not all mean like Pa and Albert, or beaten down like Ma was. 

On Africans

But again, Walker drops in that oozing nuance, and explores more layers. 

Nettie, on Africans:

Why did they sell us? How could they have done it? And why do we still love them?

No one else in this village wants to hear about slavery, however, They acknowledge no responsibility whatsoever. This is one thing about them that I definitely do not like.

Nettie, on first exploring Sénégal:

Celie, try to imagine a city full of these shining, blueblack people wearing brilliant blue robes with designs like fancy quilt patterns. Can you picture it at all, Celie? Because I felt like I was seeing black for the first time. And Celie, there is something magical about it. Because the black is so black the eye is simply dazzled, and then there is the shining that seems to come, really, from moonlight, it is so luminous, but their skin glows even in the sun. I can't imagine the kind of power and wonder and magic this moment must have contained. 

On getting a marker

When Celie confronts her stepdad (Alphonso) about her real parents, he's blunt and cruel. 

Where my daddy buried, I ast. That all I really want to know. 

Next to your mammy, he say. 

Any marker, I ast. 

He look at me like I'm crazy. Lynched people don't git no marker, he say. Like this something everybody know. 

Mama got one? I ast. 

He say, Naw. 

How many people are buried in this earth with no marker to show they lived? No marker to show that they mattered, that they loved, that they were humans? How many of these people are indigenous? Or black? It makes me want to find all their stories and trumpet them to the world; it won't undo the harm done, but at least I could celebrate their personhood. 

On hand-me-downs

There were several moments that reminded me of Sophie's Choice, and this one in particular, from Nettie, reminded me of how horrified Sophie was when she realized that any 'nice' things being worn around at Auschwitz had been taken from dead Jews. 

I have never been able to bring myself to wear one of these dresses, which all seem to have been made with giants in mind, so I was glad to have Corrine's things. At the same time, I dreaded putting them on. 

On not writing to God any more

After writing letters to God for some time, Celie decides to write to Nettie instead. She doesn't post the letters, but she has strong logic for the pivot. Here's the exchange with Shug:

Celie: What God do for me? I ast. 

Shug: She say, Celie! Like she shock. He gave you life, good health, and a good woman that love you to death. 

Celie: Yeah, I say, and he give me a lynched daddy, a crazy mama, a lowdown dog of a step pa and a sister I probably won't ever see again. Anyhow, I say, the God I been praying and writing to is a man. And act just like all the other mens I know. Trifling, forgitful and lowdown. 

Shug: She say, Miss Celie, You better hush. God might hear you.

Celie: Let 'im hear me, I say. If he ever listened to poor colored women the world would be a different place, I can tell you. Where's. The. Lie?

On getting gone

I loved when Celie finally got to put Mr. _______ in her rearview (though again, with the nuances of Walker and the complicated layers of blackness, he ends up being allowed back into her family as a reformed sort of friend). 

Mr. _______: What wrong now? I thought you finally happy. 

Celie: You a lowdown dog is what's wrong, I say. It's time to leave you and enter into the Creation. And your dead body just the welcome mat I need. 

and later, at dinner:

Mr. _____ reach over to slap me. I jab my case knife in his hand. 

You bitch, he say. What will people say, you running off to Memphis like you don't have a house to look after? 

Shug say, Albert. Try to think like you got some sense. Why any woman give a shit what people think is a mystery to me. YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS KWEEEN. Is all I have to say.

On the way Celie talks

I've been reading a book called Everyday Antiracism (and I highly recommend, very very good read - targeted at educators, but really valuable though pieces for anyone to work through) and this conversation reminded me of the explorations of AAVE (African American Vernacular English) and how to honor it in the classroom while also teaching students to codeswitch as necessary in and out of 'standard' English. 

Celie is an entrepreneur, making pants that are wildly popular in Memphis, but one of the women who helps out with the business, another black woman, disapproves of Celie's way of speaking. She says Shug must be ashamed of the way her girlfriend talks. 

Shug not shame no how, I say. But she don't believe this the truth. Sugar, she say one day when Shug home, don't you think it be nice if Celie could talk proper? 

Shug say, She can talk in sign language for all I care. 

But I let Darlene worry on. Sometimes I think bout the apples and the dogs, sometimes I don't. Look to me like only a fool would want you to talk in a way that feel peculiar to your mind. I loved this so much. And it made me love Shug even more.

On making pants

I loved this exchange between Albert and Celie later on, after she's returned from Memphis. 

Albert: How you make your living up there? he say. 

Celie: Making pants, I say. 

Albert: He say, I notice everybody in the family just about wearing pants you made. But you mean you turned it into a business? 

Celie: That's right, I say. But I really started it right here in your house to keep from killing you.

On returning to America from Africa as black children

This line was gut-wrenching, from Nettie, in a letter to Celie, about the children Olivia and Adam:

How will they manage the hostility towards them, having grown up here?

On Eleanor Jane and love

Sofia ends up being close to Eleanor Jane, the daughter of the mayor and his wife, largely because she is generally kind to Sofia and her family is kind of a disaster zone. But when Eleanor Jane brings her baby to Sofia's house and waits for her to dote on him, this is how Sofia responds:

I love children, say Sofia. But all the colored women that say they love yours is lying. Some colored people so scared of whitefolks they claim to love the cotton gin.

Lines I Liked

• You better not never tell nobody but God.

• I don't even look at mens. That's the truth. I look at women, tho, cause I'm not scared of them.

• On seeing her daughter in town: I think she mine. My heart say she mine. God, I love this line. So much tenderness.

• On Mr. _____ - One good thing bout the way he never do any work round the place, us never miss him when he gone. LOLOL. 

• Shug, to Celie - If you was my wife, I'd cover you up with kisses stead of licks, and work hard for you too. emoji heart explosions.

• Shug - You have to git man off your eyeball, before you can see anything a'tall.

• On finding out Shug is in love with a young man: Well, I say, if words could kill, I'd be in the ambulance. awwwwwwwwwwwwwww, Celie!

Okay, well I'm heading off to the country and to take a tiny human camping for the first time, so I'll leave you with some parting moments. 

Celie, I say, happiness was just a trick in your case. This broke my heart, when Celie was looking at herself in the mirror and mourning the loss of Shug and her momentary joy. Happiness wasn't just a trick! It shouldn't be a trick for any black woman, and we must work to make this true. 

On living without Shug - I try to teach my heart not to want nothing it can't have. So tender. 

On why we're here: 

I think us here to wonder, myself. To wonder. To ast. 

On Shug in the end:

If she come, I be happy. If she don't, I be content. 

And then I figure this the lesson I was suppose to learn. 

I'll leave you to marinate on this line, as we go into the 4th of July: 

White people busy celebrating they independence from England July 4th, say Harpo, so most black folks don't have to work. Us can spend the day celebrating each other. 

However you engage with your American-ness this weekend, stay safe, keep faith in the possibility and the ability of us to make a better, more equitable, more happiness-filled world, and celebrate each other with love and kindness. I'm off to the world of graphic novels.