Beloved Suffering

The story of Beloved captures the question of suffering so poignantly, and with so many various resulting destinations on the journey and transformation of suffering, that at times it appears that Toni Morrison has no concrete platform on the issue. Her character, Sethe, as a result of suffering manifests her wounds and pain into Beloved. She packages her suffering and incarnates that suffering into something she could pardon, hug, hold and love. However, that suffering ultimately seeks to threaten Sethe's very existence- and paradoxically Sethe must conquer herself- the memory she cannot let go of, that is the beast. Paul D is another illustration of an individual who dismisses his pain, rejecting his human nature to mourn and chooses rather to glean what was left of his masculinity and embrace callousness. Again, Morrison reveals that such inabilities to pardon our past suffering becomes a bigger monster than the horror that we once faced. The suffering that accompanies slavery appears to distort and destroy the tender nature of humanity, but if one examines the character portrayed by Stamp Paid, one finds that suffering can allow the individual to discover a new identity and refine one's character. For some, it made them stronger, more appreciative of the little joys in life, but for others it spurred a continual defeatist attitude that dictated their future. Baby Suggs had her moment of triumph when she "preached" to her black community and created a name for herself. But it when she was reacquainted with schoolteacher and the past that she fell back into apathy and surrendered to her bed. But perhaps Baby Suggs was not surrendering to defeat but rather, seized her moment to finally rest. It may not be fair to condemn Baby Suggs for retiring to her bed to contemplate colors and the minute details of life. Who is to say whether she was allotted such sweet surrender or throwing in the towel? Never having experienced such trauma, I am not sure I am qualified.

The Stranger

Everyone at some point in their life has felt out of place; the overwhelming feeling of being the odd one out, the misfit, the lone ranger. But unlike the Lone Ranger, most individuals
cannot muster so much bone chilling cool as he, much less put up an even somewhat
believable front. The monster that is isolation and the dread of unnacceptance
drives people to the point of insanity, depression and sometimes, conformity.
For if we didn’t have something that threatened the current of complacency, the
tidal waves of traditional, society would have no reason to not accept us. But
it is because at some point, every individual on this planet will stand for
something, say something, or do something that is contrary to popular belief
and notion. Meursault in The Stranger is indifferent to virtually everything.
He cannot sell out who he is and ironically dies for his right to be nothing at
all. He could not comprehend changing all that he was simply because of what
society required of him, and even when they shunned him, ostracized and imprisoned
him, he could not bow. If Meursault was the type to mourn his shortened life
perhaps one could view the immense measure of suffering that accompanies ostracism,
for it is a basis fundamental of human nature, instinctual from the beginnings
of the species evolution. The consequences of a life time of seclusion are detrimental
on the human psyche, the pack instinct so deeply instilled in man’s nature. It hurts when the ones we love reject us. It can be the quickest route to a self-destructive path of low self-esteem and piercing insecurity. But Meursault was the not the character to wail, weep and beat his chest in anguish. He did not plead for society to take him back into its arms, he did not beg for
salvation.

Though I do not agree with his indifferent lifestyle, I find his reslience to withstanding tradition admirable. At times in the The Stranger, one can catch small glimpses of Meursault's suffering, but paradoxically, his resolve to be everything his truly, basely was, overcame. If at ever we find ourselves on the outskrits, and the nagging desire to rejoin our freshly foreign commarades grows to impossible pain, seek solace in the fact that we are in ourselves a statement. Even if the only one receiving the message is ourselves.