Mudbound by Hillary Jordan

Jordan, Hillary Mudbound.  Chapel Hill: Algonquin Books, 2008. 

Jordan, Hillary Mudbound.  Chapel Hill: Algonquin Books, 2008.

My discussion questions…

1.      Laura discusses the difficulty of knowing when to begin telling a story.  Obviously, Jordan struggled with that decision—not just when but from who’s perspective.  She chose to begin with Jamie’s view of his father’s burial.  So from the beginning, we not only know that Pappy dies, but we know that Laura, Henry, and Jamie have an uneasy relationship together.  This establishes the novel as a mystery.  How do Jordan’s plot twists, foreshadowings, forebodings, etc. keep you intrigued?

2.      Narration is important, as well.  We hear many voices but Jordan silence Pappy’s.  Ironically, Ronsel’s voice concludes the novel.  Would the novel have been more realistic with Pappy’s perspective? Fairer?  How do the perspectives compete?  While as narrators, Laura and Ronsel conclude the novel, as characters, they are not running things.  Predominantly, Henry has his way, as he always had.  Does this seem realistic? Fair?

3.      Which characters consider themselves religious?  Irreligious?  Would you agree with their self-assessments?  Ultimately, is the novel religious?

4.      In her first section, Laura narrates that most depictions of farm lives are romanticized.  Does the novel romanticize her longing for and affair with Jamie?  According to the novel, what enervates and what energies a marriage?   Both Jamie and Laura have sex outside the bounds of marriage.  In addition, life has disappointed and damaged both Jamie and Laura.  Does the novel pose a double standard for how it judges their sexual behavior—OK for the guy but not for the gal?

5.      Laura is miserable on the farm.  How much does she contribute to her own miserableness?

6.      The ancient Greeks believed in the need for strong philos relationships within the noble household and strong xenios relationships with their neighbors.  The novel’s conclusion shows the McAllans (as they appear in the beginning) together burying their patriarch and expecting their neighbors to help them.  However, unlike the Greeks, there’s a lack of reciprocity in this xenios relationship.  Initially, why did you think Hap helped?  Ultimately, what do you think motivated him?  Does this make him a good or bad man?  Does this make him a realistic or romantic character?

7.      Some of the narrators accept their natures as innate and unalterable.  Pappy’s a jerk—always was and always will be.  Jamie’s a charmer, Henry’s a stubborn male.  Florence is the salt of the earth.  Does anyone change significantly? If so, how?  If not, what prevents them from changing?

8.      Jamie asserts, “Sometimes it’s necessary to do wrong. Sometimes it’s the only way to make things right. (294)”  Arnold van Gennep adopts a different perspective—sometimes licensing violence as not only necessary but good.  He acknowledges the need for violence when a group loses its order and operates in chaos.  Is that true of this family or this place?  Is violence their only solution? If so, is it the Klan’s violence or the murdering of Pappy that begins to restore order?  Are you, as a reader, aware that the novel sanctions violence?  After all, without the murder, would there be any hope for these people?  Or does the murder change nothing? Does Jordan offer any successful strategy for operating humanely in such a prejudiced, desolate environment?  Is the novel ultimately hopeful or disturbing?

9.      Late in the novel, Jamie complains, “Did he [Hanry] never get tired of being the strong one, of being stoic and honorable  and dependable (301)?” A Stoic believes in two ways to handle life: 1) accept what you can’t control and 2) act upon what you can control.  Is Henry really a Stoic?  How do some of the characters fail to be good Stoics?  Would being a good Stoic have saved any characters? Would being a good Stoic have helped any characters become content with their lives?

10.  A self-actualizer believes that 1) it may become necessary to reject forced, unhealthy acculturation.  In this novel, those forces would be racism, sexism, and classism.  Is it possible for the characters deprived of power/agency to reject social codes and self-actualize?  For example, is there any hope for the African American characters to self-actualize?  The women?  The poor?  Of course, there’s more to self-actualizing than rejecting confining prejudices.  You must also 2) have a firm sense of self (which you accept) and 3) participate in bettering others’ lives.  If there’s any character who fulfills the 3 criteria for self-actualization, it’s probably Florence.  Why? But what about Henry?  He certainly fulfills self-knowledge and acceptance.  But does he stand apart from society when he needs to?  And does he contribute to making this a better world or cultivating a better relationship?  Is he selfish or self-actualizing?

11.  There’s a tension between being hospitable, compassionate, and generous vs. looking out for your family.  Being nice seems to endanger folks in this novel.  Florence exposes herself to whooping cough and later, returns to her family.  Henry allows Carl and his family to stay on even though he’s a violent drunk.  Etc.  Perhaps, that’s as it should be when it’s so darn hard to stay alive.  Contrary to ancient Greek ethics, to be good doesn’t guarantee happiness.  How are morality and happiness connected in this novel?

12.  The last two sections afford hope. First, Laura proclaims that love will save us all: “It will be a boy…And while I’ll always regret that I got my son at such terrible cost to hers, I won’t regret that I got him.  My love for him won’t let me. I’ll end with that.  With love.”    Is it love that saves her or is it more that her quality of life has so drastically improved—electricity, indoor plumbing, a “colored maid,” and an order life?  Abraham Maslow believed that until our basic needs are satisfied, humans can’t become ethical.  Does Laura exemplify that philosophy? Second,  Ronsel demands more: “If I worked and prayed hard enough.  If he was stubborn as well as lucky.  If he really had a shine.” Realistically, will being religious, industrious, and stubborn help him succeed and find happiness?  Are these two perspectives satisfying moral closures? Or are they oversimplifications—patently ignoring the struggles against racism and patriarchy amidst a harsh socio-economic environment?  Has Jordan fallen into solipsism and romanticism?

Just Kids

  Just Kids by Patti Smith disappoints.  The story of her relationship with Robert Maplethorpe; their careers--combined and separate; and every person she met, garb she wore, and place she parked her butt has such potential. (You may need to recoup the subject of that sentence.)  So where does she go wrong?

First, she writes what amounts to a Cinderella tale without marriage and with homosexuality.
1. Man rescues girl.  Robert's a bit older and more savvy.  He has resources although meager.  She's homeless and starving.  He affords her shelter and artistic guidance.  She joins him--on his terms.
2. Girl becomes man's appendage.  For all of Robert's us-against-the world worldview, it's Robert running the show.  They are so broke that they have to split a grilled cheese sandwich and eat lettuce soup; but Robert can blow $5 on a sealed porn magazine in hopes of some artistic material.  He creates whenever he wants while she holds down 9-to-5 jobs.  They can barely fit into their hotel room together but he secures a loft while she's writing in the hotel's busy lobby.  Etc. She bolsters his ego.  She nurses him through days of trench mouth, impacted wisdom teeth, and high fever.  Thereafter,  he abandons her to hustle men and pick up more diseases.
3. This is a man's world, starring Robert Maplethorpe, alleged artist genius.  Screw her and her life. He discovers men, S&M; high society, and artistic-types' salons.  She lurks in the background, longing to fit in or waits in her room for him to return.  He eventually ditches her.  And it's absolutely no coincidence that afterward, she blossoms.

This all makes for a too-familiar, disappointing story, which the author seems oblivious of.

The second reason that the book is a dud lies with the writing style.  A diary extended into a hagiography promises nothing but insipidness.  Robert, the artist, the lover, the misunderstood.  Come on.  It's more than a little infuriating to this reader that such an intelligent and talented woman waits around one half hour for stoned roommate to tie his shoes so that they can finally go out after she worked at a colossally boring job all day to support him. She tolerates his promiscuity, creepiness, even evilness--without any attempt to analyze him or educate herself.  Someone in the book club lamented that she didn't learn anything from reading this memoir.  I wonder if that's because Smith, herself, doesn't learn anything.  While cataloging her outfits, meals, travels, residences, conversations, and her acquaintances, she never wonders if Robert is toxic for her.  She only praises his creativity and overlooks his self-destruction.  It's either poor, dear, Robert or Robert, creative genius.

Don't read it because you already know this worn-out story of female self-subjugation.