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Jean ToomerA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more. For select classroom titles, we also provide Teaching Guides with discussion and quiz questions to prompt student engagement.
“Her Lips Are Copper Wire” is a poem with five stanzas, each with two or three lines. The poem’s addressee is the speaker’s lover, who is given gentle commands in each stanza. In Stanza 1, the speaker asks the subject to whisper about lamppost lights. Toomer compares the swaying lampposts to drunken people. Stanza 2 expresses the speaker’s desire for closeness to the addressee, wanting to feel their breath. In Stanza 3, the addressee is told to “telephone the power-house / that the main wires are insulate” (Lines 6-7). In parentheses, Toomer describes the sound of a woman’s voice. Finally, the addressee is invited to kiss the speaker.
A woman’s soul is likened to a “little thrust-tailed dog that follows her, whimpering” (72). Every day when she comes home, she leaves her little dog in the vestibule where it is very cold. Someone—perhaps Jesus—will cover the dog and bring it inside where she sleeps. The story switches to the second person. Sometimes the reader sees the dog during the day with its owner. Eventually, the reader notices the dog nuzzled against their leg, shivering. The dog has given up on returning to the house, where it is usually left alone in the cold. The dog—the woman’s soul—only follows behind her, never totally catching up to her. The speaker has also seen the dog following the woman all over town. Again, someone—“eoho Jesus”—will hopefully cover the dog and carry it to the woman.
“Box Seat” begins comparing houses to shy girls and comparing Black people on the street outside of the houses as “street songs that woo virginal houses” (74). As Dan Moore walks along 13th St, the girl-eyes of the houses watch him pass. Singing and whistling, Dan thinks of the house he is headed to and the girl there. When he arrives, he cannot find the doorbell. He imagines violently breaking in and the violent altercation that might ensue. After knocking aggressively, Mrs. Pribby answers the door. While he waits in the parlor for Muriel, he is critical of the hard, cold architecture of the extravagant, upper-class home. Dan thinks negatively of Mrs. Pribby, who then leaves him to read her newspaper.
Dan wonders why Muriel is taking so long and puts his ear to the wall to try and hear her getting ready. He hears a rumbling—Muriel descends the stairs. Muriel is plump, with thick curly hair, flaring nostrils, and orange cheeks. She asks Dan why he has come; he wanted to see her after the pain she has endured in the last few months. She does not want to discuss that pain and changes the subject to the show at the Lincoln she will see that night. Muriel thinks about how she loves Dan, but the town does not approve of their love. Frustrated, she wants him to leave. As they chat more, Muriel expresses that she struggles to find happiness; Dan insists that happiness is not real, as joy and pain are inseparable in life. He takes her hands and drops to his knees. He proclaims his love, but she is resistant, as the disapproving Mrs. Pribby is nearby. Mrs. Pribby suspects them from the other room, and Dan hurries out the door.
Part 2 begins with Muriel and Bernice sitting in the box area in the Lincoln Theatre. Muriel decides not to see Dan again, although she loves him. Just then, she spots him shuffling to a seat in the theater. He locks eyes with her and is surprised by her displeased gaze. As the show begins, several little people perform in a boxing tournament. Dan thinks about Muriel and fidgets, disturbing his neighbors. The show shifts to a vocal performance sung by Mr. Barry, the boxing champion. Mr. Barry uses a mirror to reflect a spotlight onto Dan. As Dan notices, the audience laughs. Then Barry shines the light on Muriel, to whom he then sings. Afterward, he offers Muriel a rose; she is hesitant, as Mr. Barry is a little person, and this disturbs her. Mr. Barry tells her, “I too was made in His image” (89); Dan shouts out, “JESUS WAS ONCE A LEPER” (89), and the audience is stunned. As Dan rushes out, he bumps into a man, starting a fight. The crowd follows as they talk about the fight outside, but Dan is done and simply walks off.
“Prayer” is a single-stanza poem in free verse. This piece is also a prayer to the Spirits, the addressees of the poem—“O Spirits” (line 6). The speaker wrestles with a separation of body, mind, and soul, where both his body and mind are “opaque to the soul” (89). This opacity is partly due to the “flesh-eye” of his soul being closed, therefore unable to clearly see the mind and body. The speaker considers his soul to be a small part of a larger entity—the Spirits. He repeatedly calls his soul “but a little finger” of that larger body. The speaker gives much of his soul and wants to give more, although this makes him weak. This weakness leads him to “confus[e] the body with the soul” (89) and, likewise, his own soul with the greater Spirits. The speaker affirms that his soul is “but a little finger” of the Spirits (89).
“Harvest Song” is a song/poem in free verse with 11 stanzas, each with between two and four lines. The song is written from the first-person perspective of a reaper at harvest time. The reaper is finished with his work at sundown, but he is too tired to bind the oats he has harvested. He is hungry and eats a grain, but he cannot taste it. After a long day of labor in the fields, his throat is dry, and the oatfield dust covers his eyes, blinding him. Again, he is hungry. He cannot see the handles of the scythes he uses or other harvesters in fields of other crops. He is afraid to call out to them for food because he might not taste it and his hunger is so intense. The outfield dust cakes his ears also, making him deaf to other harvesters calling out, also with dry throats. The reaper wishes he could hear the other reapers’ songs. Again, he is hungry, his throat is dry, and he is afraid to call, “Eoho, my brothers!” (92). In the final stanza, he addresses the other harvesters as “my brothers” (92), saying that they—like him—beat their palms on the harvesting. His sweet pain “will not bring [him] knowledge of [his] hunger” (92).
“Bona and Paul” is a short story divided into four parts. In a Chicago school gymnasium, Bona sits out and watches as men and women are drilling. Bona, a young white woman, has her eyes set on Paul Johnson, a Black man. When the men and women split into two teams, she insists on joining the basketball game. Bona guards Paul, bringing them into close, intense contact. Part two begins with Paul sitting at his window thinking of Bona. His blonde roommate, Art, walks in, saying he set up a date for Paul with Bona. Paul has been moody lately, and Art wants to help. Paul is resentful of the invitation but accepts. At Pure Food Restaurant, Art tells Paul about how great Bona is.
In part three, Art is excitedly getting ready for their double date, while Paul is still “cool like the dusk” (97). Art thinks Paul is “moony.” While they wait for Helen and Bona at the restaurant, Art plays jazz music on the piano. The girls arrive, and the couples come together; Bona is nervous. Walking later that night, Bona confesses that she loves Paul. Before returning the confession, he asks for a kiss, but Bona fears he will not say he loves her back if they kiss first. Upset, she catches up to Art and Helen instead.
In part four, the couples sit at Crimson Garden, and Paul notices that he is getting stares from people for being Black—“different” (100). He feels suddenly out of place with Art, Bona, and Helen, who are white and look beautiful. Art wonders what is wrong with Paul; he thinks well of Paul and considers him a good friend but unusual (“moony”). At dinner, Paul learns Bona is from the South and wonders what that means for how she feels about Black people. They are trying to get to know each other. Bona feels like Paul has contempt for her and does not want to see him anymore; Paul is bothered by Bona’s stiffness. While dancing, they bicker about Bona’s refusal to make love with him; they do not see eye to eye. Upset, they soon head out. Paul notices a Black man looking at him inquisitively; Paul rushes over to convince the man that his interracial relationship with Bona is beautiful and that “something beautiful is going to happen” (104). The men shake hands, and when Paul goes back to find Bona, she is gone.
In the poem, “Her Lips are Copper Wire,” the passion of the sensual relationship is reflected in metaphors of electricity. For example, condensation on lamppost globes is compared to intimate breath. The addressee might be asked to call the power-house to signal the electric capacities or power of their passion. Finally, the speaker hopes to kiss the address “till [their lips] are incandescent” (Line 12). With no punctuation, this poem can be read as a run-on sentence. However, while run-on sentences in literature tend to communicate hurried words and ideas, Toomer’s approach is unique. Instead, the poem structure utilizes the line breaks and parentheses in Stanza 4 to create breathing room in a piece of writing that is otherwise uninterrupted. Rather than conveying a rushed sense to the reader, it conveys an easygoing mood, where punctuation is absent not because it gets in the way but because it does not matter. This interpretation is consistent with the effect of the poem’s lack of capitalization. The poem begins by asking the subject (the speaker’s lover) to “whisper of yellow globes” (Line 1). As opposed to capital letters that can convey shouting, the lowercase letters convey quiet, gentle speech, like whispering. Likewise, as capital letters announce the definitive beginning of a sentence, the lowercase letters in this poem convey speech free from the stricture of a phrasal beginning and end. There is no end or beginning in the speaker’s sensual exchange with the subject, only continuous pleasure
“Prayer” both enforces the mind/body/soul division and undermines it using metaphor. On the one hand, the speaker laments that his soul cannot perceive his mind and body—they are “opaque to the soul” (89). When he states that his weakness has led him to “confus[e] the body with the soul” (89), this confusion implies that they rightfully belong as discrete, unconfused entities. On the other hand, the poem consistently draws metaphors between the soul and the body, muddying the very division between them that it attempts to articulate. The speaker describes his soul as having a “flesh-eye” with eyelids that are physically closed to the mind and body. Likewise, the speaker uses the relationship between the pinky finger and the body as a metaphor for the relationship between his soul and the Spirits: “O spirits of whom my soul is but a little finger” (89). Again, the metaphor of the little finger is also used to convey both the strength and the weakness of the speaker’s soul.
“Harvest Song” recalls the themes and images of Part 1, which attended to agricultural labor and crops and repeated the image of the sunset and the laborer. It calls to mind earlier song chapters in Cane like “Cotton Song” and “Song of the Sun.” However, while those are a work song and an ode to the natural world, respectively, “Harvest Song” is about the reflections of a reaper on his oat harvesting experience and his connection with the experiences of other reapers. Also, unlike those other two songs, “Harvest Song” does not have a stable rhyme scheme or a sense of meter that makes obvious how it could be sung. This loose structure would frustrate the collective singing that folk songs typically involve. Through its first-person perspective, its irregular structure, and lack of rhyme, it communicates that it is solely for the individual reaper to sing and meant to convey his particular experience while referencing but not representing the experiences of others.
“Box Seat” sustains an underlying tone of violence from beginning to end. Dan is a particularly impulsive and explosive character, constantly upsetting otherwise peaceful settings. For instance, in the first scene, Dan knocks aggressively on Muriel’s door: “The tension of his arms makes the glass rattle” (75). Not only are his knocks loud, but his fists are also tightly balled: “His knuckles are raw bone against the thick glass” (75). This knuckle and its hard blows foreshadow the climactic fight scene at the end. The imminent violence is further anticipated through Dan’s disruptive behavior in his seat at the Lincoln Theater; he squirms and disturbs his neighbors, who vocalize their frustration. It isn’t long before this frustration turns aggressive. Yet, as the story builds toward its culminating act of violence, it comes to a dramatically anticlimactic end, as Dan refuses the fight once it’s outdoors. His choice to walk away reveals how his objective is ultimately Muriel; it is not a fight he wants but the love of his life.
Like many other stories in Cane, “Box Seat” features a relationship in conflict. Dan and Muriel’s relationship is condemned, likely because of their class difference. Where the titular characters of “Bona and Paul” struggle with a racial dynamic (where the woman is white, and the man is Black), Dan and Muriel must wrestle with a social dynamic within the African American community. In both stories, the characters’ relationship faces opposition and criticism from the public, who disapprove of them. “Box Seat” heavily features the theme of perception, exposure, and being seen. When Mr. Barry shines a spotlight on Dan and Muriel, the stage is metaphorically expanded to include the pair. They shift from spectators to the spectated as the audience laughs at Dan’s realization that he is being watched and encourages Muriel to accept Mr. Barry’s rose. Being observed this way makes Dan and Muriel more aware of themselves and uncomfortable. As their affection already draws negative attention in town, in the Lincoln Theater, they must now endure a dramatized version of that experience of being scrutinized.
In both “Box Seat” and “Bona and Paul,” Toomer also employs the unique literary strategy of using a character’s name followed by a colon to signal that what follows are their thoughts. This strategy distinguishes between characters’ outward speech and their interiority. It also allows the narrative to get closer to each character without completely yielding to the first-person perspective in the narrative proper. This strategy, which first appeared in “Theater,” indicates how the mental and emotional landscape is as important to Toomer’s writing as the plot and scenes. Neither eclipses the other—as the stories are both rich in interiority and actions—but they serve as complements. This strategy also creates a bridge in Cane between Part 2 and Part 3; in “Kabnis,” the novel’s final part, names and colons are also used, but with the conventional dramatic use for dialogue. Stories like “Theater,” “Box Seat,” and “Bona and Paul” move toward looking formally like a written play, anticipating “Kabnis” while still being short stories.