When I get lost or disgruntled with Morrison over some odd symbolism or metaphor, it goes to the sixty million. I have come to accept Beloved as the haunting legacy of dead slaves. Also though, I understand that she is the most acute manifestation of Sethe’s daughter. So where does this leave me? Why does Morrison use a young slave murdered by her own mother? Also, since Beloved is a danger to the whole black community, why is the exorcism lead by one figure? Toward the end it is Ella who rallies the town to banish Beloved. At the same time, she’s pregnant so … to the sixty million…
As the novel comes to a close I’m trying hard to consolidate Morrison’s powerful stream of messages. As Dr. Middleton noted in class, we do have expert training in literature. While none of it helps me immensely, I’ve had two recurring sensations from my critical theory class while reading Beloved (rememories?). The first, which is the more fleeting of the two, is Beloved always representing the uncanny.
In Latin, the uncanny comes from locus suspectus. I think this is exactly the feel of the character, and even book, Beloved. The locus can be a physical place, a state of mind, or mean the center/boundary, whole or lack of something. Suspectus is easy enough anything which raises guard or draws dramatic attention to. A great example by Freud explaining the uncanny is something everyone can attest to, an uncomfortable look. This can be mild, or as severe as in a dark alley. The uncanny here is a fear of the self, a fear of our secret intentions exercised in paranoia and past.
My favorite meaning given to the uncanny though is described by Schelling. The uncanny is not foreign, on the contrary it is something very near. To me this is Beloved’s death, this is slavery, this is the sudden mob of townspeople and Denver’s impossible departure. As Schelling describes, the uncanny is “that which should have been kept concealed but which has nevertheless come to light” (429). This is like the curious cousin who lands on your doorstep. What are they doing here? It’s not uncanny because they are far, instead it is something very retrievable and possibly even dear. In this way Beloved lands on me like the righteous history books of my elementary school did not. I think a lot of the power in Beloved comes from a previously unique absence, to now being strangely caddy corner to our own lives.
The second and maybe even more lucid association I’ve been having with Beloved in terms of drawing on old texts is with Jean Baudrillard’s Reversion of History. Unfortunately, this could take me pages and pages to write , and I can’t find the essay now. But ! I highly recommend anyone to read this short but brilliant (if not a little too playful with his own ideological musings– Ahh the French) piece on history. His dismantling of everything linear and exploration into proper change, has a similar feel to Morrison’s lesson from the past as a freedom for the future cause. I think this novel would certainly live up to his call to arms for a tangential present.
