Maud Martha

“This was no Willie or Richard or Sylvester coming to call on her. Neither was she Charles’s Sally or Joan. She was the ‘colored’ race, and Charles was the personalization of the entire Caucasian plan.”

Maud is anxious about Charles calling on her. She’s overwhelmingly aware of her race as well as his, and she feels the weight of both races upon them. She’s flattered by his interest in her but feels she’s now a representative of her entire race.

“What she wanted was to donate to the world a good Maud Martha. That was the offering, the bit of art, that could not come from any other.”

Maud is not interested in an extravagant life or an ambitious creation of art. She doesn’t seek fame or an audience. She values the simple things in life and keeps her ambitions simple as well. Rather than create something new or recreate herself, she prefers to work on being the most perfect version of herself. This is an example of Maud’s genuine appreciation for the everyday things that make life and people valuable and worthy of notice.

“I think I’ll give a party. I haven’t given a party since I was eleven. I’d like some of my friends to just casually see that we’re homeowners.”

Helen initially copes with the possibility of losing the family home by criticizing it, saying, “I have friends I’d just as soon not bring here” (29). Her attitude changes swiftly once her father successfully gets another extension on the mortgage, revealing the depth of her underlying pride. Though she’s embarrassed by her family’s small, old home, being a homeowner is still a status indicator, and owning a small old home is better than owning no home at all.

“What chance did he have, he mused, what chance was there for anybody coming out of a set of conditions that never allowed for the prevalence of sensitive, and intellectual, yet almost frivolous, dinner-table discussions of Parrington across four-year-old heads?”

David’s character highlights severe inequities in exposure and access to education across races. He is a black man trying to succeed in a system of education designed by and for privileged white students. He feels a constant need to catch up to education and cultural knowledge that his white classmates take for granted.

“Still, mused Maud Martha, I am what he would call—sweet, and I am good, and he will marry me.”

Maud does not hold lofty, unrealistic expectations for marriage. Until this point in the novel, though, the narrator hasn’t confirmed that the constant comparisons between Maud and Helen reflect the thoughts of those around them. Paul, though, confirms that there will be little beauty resulting from their union, lending legitimacy to Maud’s self-assertions that she lacks beauty. But beauty is not what Maud or Paul values most, and in that regard they are a good match for one another.

“And he might never go to a real play. But she was learning to love moments. To love moments for themselves.”

Maud is initially annoyed and disappointed by her domestic life with Paul, but she eventually finds happiness in small moments of joy and appreciation. Part of that regained happiness comes from her ability to recognize Paul’s limitations and adjust her expectations accordingly. Even though Paul enjoys himself at this moment and promises to have nights like this more often, Maud now knows better than to place much hope in Paul’s promises.

“But it’s my color that makes him mad. I try to shut my eyes to that, but it’s no good. What I am inside, what is really me, he likes okay. But he keeps looking at my color, which is like a wall.”

Paul leaves Maud alone at the social club to dance with a white woman instead. Maud is upset but also sympathetic, acknowledging to herself that Paul has a lot to overcome before he can see the beauty within her. It’s not a matter of Maud being unattractive but rather that her skin is significantly darker than Paul’s, and it’s a direct contrast to the status symbols Paul craves.

“I’m not going to make a fuss. You’ll see. Why, there’s nothing to make a fuss about. You’re just going to have a baby, like millions of other women. Why should I make a fuss?”

Belva makes light of an extraordinary life event by pointing out how frequently it takes place. The irony of her statement that there’s nothing to make a fuss about highlights both the routine and the miracle of giving birth. It’s also ironic that it’s Belva pointing out the commonness of the situation, when throughout the novel it’s Maud who notices and appreciates the beauty of everyday moments.

“She was afraid to suggest to him that, to most people, nothing at all ‘happens.’ That most people merely live from day to day until they die.”

Despite all his promises of a lavish lifestyle, Paul is still waiting for something to happen that will change his circumstances for him. Maud is more realistic and recognizes that they can’t rely on circumstance to alter their social and economic standing. Paul has disappointed Maud enough times that she no longer has any expectation that their social status will change.

“Why talk of beautiful mountains and grains of alley sand in the same breath?”

Maud’s own life is a stark contrast to the Burns-Coopers’ lifestyle. When Maud appreciates the size of their kitchen, Mrs. Burns-Cooper makes Maud feel foolish for thinking their kitchens could have anything in common. Mrs. Burns-Cooper does this in a laughing and belittling manner, and it’s this manner of treatment that pushes Maud to quit the job.

“On the whole, she felt, life was more comedy than tragedy. Nearly everything that happened had its comic element, not too well buried, either.”

Maud’s mood immediately lightens once she’s surrounded by blooming trees after quitting her housekeeping job. She’s back to being the pensive, sensitive, and sympathetic character from early in the novel. The shift draws attention to Maud’s discomfort at the Burns-Cooper home and prepares readers for the positive ending ahead.

“I have a lot of things. I have more than she has. I have a husband, a nice little girl, and a clean home of my own.”

Helen doesn’t want to visit Maud because Maud’s lack of material items depresses her, but Maud insists that she has plenty in life. The “things” Maud counts are not material items like what Helen values; instead, Maud’s response highlights the value she places on relationships and stability.

“She could neither resolve nor dismiss. There were these scraps of baffled hate in her, hate with no eyes, no smile and—this she especially regretted, called her hungriest lack—not much voice.”

Maud is frustrated with herself for the way she handles witnessing Santa’s racist behavior toward Paulette. Like the situation with the cosmetics saleswoman in Sonia’s salon, Maud again finds herself offended but voiceless. Calling this silence her “hungriest lack” emphasizes how greatly Maud values the ability to speak up in such situations, even though she lacks that ability herself.