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18 pages 36 minutes read

Gwendolyn Brooks

the rites for Cousin Vit

Fiction | Poem | Adult | Published in 1949

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Themes

Life versus Death

The poem pits life against death. At first, death appears to have the upper hand. Death controls Cousin Vit. Through the funeral rites, death carries Cousin Vit “unprotesting out the door” (Line 1); death animates and contains her. She’s in a casket and on the “casket-stand” (Line 2)—all of which belong to death. Then, Cousin Vit counters the idea that death is all-powerful and irreversible. Certain lives, like Cousin Vit’s, can resist and reject death’s reach. The casket-stand “can’t hold her” (Line 2).

Death has met its match in Cousin Vit. What’s supposed to “enfold her” (Line 3) fails, as neither the “stuff and satin” (Line 3) nor the “lid’s contrition” and “bolts” (Line 4) can successfully hold her down. Cousin Vit’s life triumphs over the power of death. Her life is “[t]oo much. Too much” (Line 5). Death can’t handle Cousin Vit’s dynamism; she escapes the funeral and the clutches of death. She “rises in the sunshine” (Line 6)—from the dead—and heads back to her exuberant life.

Through Cousin Vit, Brooks tackles the theme of a life well-lived. Life involves desire, noise, movement, and mess. Life is somewhat mysterious or unexplainable, which might be why the speaker only suggests what’s meant by “love-rooms” (Line 8), “pregnancy” (Line 12), and “parks or alleys” (Line 13). If a person embraces the messiness of life, they, like Cousin Vit, might find themselves “haply on the verge / Of happiness” (Line 13-14). A person leading a happy life doesn’t have to succumb to death. A vital, joyous life—like the kind Cousin Vit lived—finds a way to continue.

The Messiness of Life

Cousin Vit’s life lacks order. It doesn’t follow a neat trajectory. Instead, the speaker outlines Cousin Vit’s life in a snappy rush. The energetic tone bolsters the idea that disorder is a part of life or a well-lived life. The “bars” (Line 7) Cousin Vit visits probably aren’t quiet, serene places. The “love-rooms” and “things in people’s eyes” (Line 8) advance the theme of messiness. They are fundamentally untidy; the speaker can’t neatly catalog them. They are “[t]oo vital and too squeaking” (Line 9) to be domesticated.

The dance Cousin Vit does, “the snake-hips with a hiss” (Line 10), furthers the idea that life transcends order. The image suggests that even the human form can’t confine Cousin Vit; the dance turns her into a hissing snake. The mess of life continues when Cousin Vit “[s]lops” or spills “bad wine across her shantung” (Line 11). Like dresses, life gets dirty.

Messes march on with “pregnancy, guitars, and bridgework” (Line 12). Giving birth is messy, and the decision to get an abortion is often fraught and complex. The sounds of guitars can produce unwieldy feelings, and teeth can be hard to maintain. As public spaces, “parks or alleys” (Line 13) aren’t always easy to manage. Alleys are associated with danger.

Brooks underscores the messiness of life when using term “hysterics” (Line 14)—a word that means unruly fits or wildness. The word is associated with women: People often diagnosed unconventional women, or women deemed hard to control, as hysterical. Brooks destigmatizes this word by linking it with the happy life of Cousin Vit. It’s impossible to live a good, vigorous life without hysterics or messiness.

The Power of Chance

Much of life comes down to randomness To communicate the idea of chance, Brooks uses the archaic word “haply” in Lines 13 and 14. Dating back to around the 1300s, “haply” means luck or good fortune. Yes, Cousin Vit had a phenomenal life, but it wasn’t possible to script. Much of what made Cousin Vit’s life notable and worthy happened “haply” or through good luck.

In the spaces Cousin Vit occupied, chance dominates. Something bad could have taken place in the “bars” (Line 7), “love-rooms” (Line 8), and “parks or alleys” (Line 13). Yet Cousin Vit managed to navigate these spaces safely. If something bad did occur, Cousin Vit had the fortune to not let it scar her.

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