Cane by Jean Toomer (100 best novels of all time .TXT) 📕
Description
Published in 1923, Jean Toomer’s Cane was widely heralded as one of the first masterpieces of the Harlem Renaissance, and its author as “a bright morning star” of the movement. Toomer himself, however, was reluctant to embrace an explicitly racialized identity, preferring to define himself as simply an American writer.
Inspired in part by Sherwood Anderson’s short story cycle Winesburg, Ohio, Toomer conceived Cane as a mosaic of intricately connected vignettes, poems, stories, songs, and even play-like dialogues. Drawing on both modernist poetry and African-American spirituals, Toomer imbues each form with a lyrical and often experimental sensibility.
The work is structured in three distinct but unnamed parts. The first is set in rural Georgia and focuses on the lives of women and the men who desire them. The second part moves to the urban enclaves of the North in the years following the Great Migration. The third and final part returns to the rural South and explores the interactions between African-Americans from the North and those living in the South.
Although sales languished in the later years of Toomer’s life, the book was reissued after his death and rediscovered by a new generation of American writers. Alice Walker described Cane as one of the most important books in her own development as a writer: “I love it passionately, could not possibly exist without it.”
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- Author: Jean Toomer
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Halsey burrs off into vague and incoherent comment.
Pause. Disagreeable.
Layman’s eyes are glazed on the spurting fire.
Kabnis wants to rise and put both Halsey and Hanby in their places. He vaguely knows that he must do this, else the power of direction will completely slip from him to those outside. The conviction is just strong enough to torture him. To bring a feverish, quick-passing flare into his eyes. To mutter words soggy in hot saliva. To jerk his arms upward in futile protest. Halsey, noticing his gestures, thinks it is water that he desires. He brings a glass to him. Kabnis slings it to the floor. Heat of the conviction dies. His arms crumple. His upper lip, his mustache, quiver. Rap! rap, on the door. The sounds slap Kabnis. They bring a hectic color to his cheeks. Like huge cold finger tips they touch his skin and gooseflesh it. Hanby strikes a commanding pose. He moves toward Layman. Layman’s face is innocently immobile.
Halsey: Whos there?
Voice: Lewis.
Halsey: Come in, Lewis. Come on in.
Lewis enters. He is the queer fellow who has been referred to. A tall wiry copper-colored man, thirty perhaps. His mouth and eyes suggest purpose guided by an adequate intelligence. He is what a stronger Kabnis might have been, and in an odd faint way resembles him. As he steps towards the others, he seems to be issuing sharply from a vivid dream. Lewis shakes hands with Halsey. Nods perfunctorily to Hanby, who has stiffened to meet him. Smiles rapidly at Layman, and settles with real interest on Kabnis.
Lewis: Kabnis passed me on the road. Had a piece of business of my own, and couldnt get here any sooner. Thought I might be able to help in some way or other.
Halsey: A good baths bout all he needs now. An somethin t put his mind t rest.
Lewis: I think I can give him that. That note was meant for me. Some Negroes have grown uncomfortable at my being here—
Kabnis: You mean, Mr. Lewis, some colored folks threw it? Christ Amighty!
Halsey: Thats what he means. An just as I told y. White folks more direct than that.
Kabnis: What are they after you for?
Lewis: Its a long story, Kabnis. Too long for now. And it might involve present company. (He laughs pleasantly and gestures vaguely in the direction of Hanby.) Tell you about it later on perhaps.
Kabnis: Youre not going?
Lewis: Not till my month’s up.
Halsey: Hows that?
Lewis: I’m on a sort of contract with myself. (Is about to leave.) Well, glad its nothing serious—
Halsey: Come round t th shop sometime why dont y, Lewis? I’ve asked y enough. I’d like t have a talk with y. I aint as dumb as I look. Kabnis an me’ll be in most any time. Not much work these days. Wish t hell there was. This burg gets to me when there aint. (In answer to Lewis’ question.) He’s goin t work with me. Ya. Night air this side th branch aint good fer him. (Looks at Hanby. Laughs.)
Lewis: I see …
His eyes turn to Kabnis. In the instant of their shifting, a vision of the life they are to meet. Kabnis, a promise of a soil-soaked beauty; uprooted, thinning out. Suspended a few feet above the soil whose touch would resurrect him. Arm’s length removed from him whose will to help … There is a swift intuitive interchange of consciousness. Kabnis has a sudden need to rush into the arms of this man. His eyes call, “Brother.” And then a savage, cynical twist-about within him mocks his impulse and strengthens him to repulse Lewis. His lips curl cruelly. His eyes laugh. They are glittering needles, stitching. With a throbbing ache they draw Lewis to. Lewis brusquely wheels on Hanby.
Lewis: I’d like to see you, sir, a moment, if you dont mind.
Hanby’s tight collar and vest effectively preserve him.
Hanby: Yes, erer, Mr. Lewis. Right away.
Lewis: See you later, Halsey.
Halsey: So long—thanks—sho hope so, Lewis.
As he opens the door and Hanby passes out, a woman, miles down the valley, begins to sing. Her song is a spark that travels swiftly to the nearby cabins. Like purple tallow flames, songs jet up. They spread a ruddy haze over the heavens. The haze swings low. Now the whole countryside is a soft chorus. Lord. O Lord … Lewis closes the door behind him. A flame jets out …
The kettle is boiling. Halsey notices it. He pulls the washtub from beneath the bed. He arranges for the bath before the fire.
Halsey: Told y them theatrics didnt fit a white man. Th niggers, just like I told y. An after him. Aint surprisin though. He aint bowed t none of them. Nassur. T nairy a one of them nairy an inch nairy a time. An only mixed when he was good an ready—
Kabnis: That song, Halsey, do you hear it?
Halsey: Thats a man. Hear me, Kabnis? A man—
Kabnis: Jesus, do you hear it.
Halsey: Hear it? Hear what? Course I hear it. Listen t what I’m tellin y. A man, get me? They’ll get him yet if he dont watch out.
Kabnis is jolted into his fear.
Kabnis: Get him? What do you mean? How? Not lynch him?
Halsey: Na. Take a shotgun an shoot his eyes clear out. Well, anyway, it wasnt fer you, just like I told y. You’ll stay over at th house an work with me, eh, boy? Good t get away from his nobs, eh?
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