Hagar: A Love Story

I did not begin the novel liking Hagar. For she was too rough, too foreign and too needy to empathize with.  Her love for Milkman, her cousin once-removed or what not, was an obsession that frightened me. The careful distinction between Hagar and her two Mamas, Reba and Pilate, was not one that tilted in her favor. She was the spoiled princess who demanded luxury. While her caretakers struggled to please her every whim - her happiness was the goal of their lives after all - she was still unsatisfied.

But as selfish and singleminded as Hagar appears, she does have a vulnerable side to her that draws sympathy. Her affections degrade her, rendering her subservient to the wishes and estimations of her beloved. As Guitar bluntly points out, she thinks that she is worthless because Milkman doesn't love her and believes completely in his judgement of her worth. For Hagar, love is about belonging. Yet rather than the typical you belong with me dynamic, she sees it as a belonging to kind of relationship. To love is to own, and to someone who is as prideful and self-indulgent as Milkman, that forceful affection is stifling. He who is used to convenience naturally despises being restrained by a woman, one who he only loves for her availability. One would almost say that he takes advantage of her and her boundless love, but can he really be accountable when she is willing to give herself to him so completely?

Guitar, who somehow transforms into a Dr. Phil-like character, observes that it is Hagar's lack of value for her own life that causes Milkman to lose interest in her. "He can't value you more than you value yourself" (Morrison 306). There is something overwhelmingly pitiful about that, and it puts a new light on Hagar's attempts to kill Milkman. She will never succeed because of how much she cares for him, yet she will never stop either because she can't bear for him to go on without her. It's a cruel and tragic circle. And the resulting death of Hagar only strengthens the sadness of this affair.

Freud, Freud, Freud.

I wonder about Ruth's mental condition. If anything, I would have to say she seems to be Freud's ideal woman. Her actions seem senseless to me, but since I have only read so far into the story, I suppose that is understandable. From what I do know, her mind seems to be in a perpetually childlike zone. She is, as she aptly puts it, "her daddy's daughter" (Morrison 67). I know that her mother died and she takes after her with an alarming likeness. She demands kisses from her father, and lets him be her doctor even after her marriage. Can we interpret this as an intense love from daughter to father, or are we too bothered by the intimacy between the two?

Taking up Freud's side, I would like to argue that Ruth's actions are just a manifestation of her subconscious - the Electra Complex. With her mother dead, the Freudian shade of Ruth would have had no competition for her father's affection, and thus could allow her affections for her father to flow freely. And her freedom of expression clashed inevitably with her husband's expectations. Macon Dead Sr., who was obviously too chicken (at least on a Freudian scale) to admit to any sexual desire for his mother, would have interpreted Ruth's paternal love as the symptom of a grave madness. 

Yet because I am not a devote follower of Freud, I can sympathize with Macon's revulsion. Ruth is strange; her actions do hint at some ulterior motive, if not a bipolar personality. She seems to possess sexual instincts towards her young son, which is perhaps an even more frightening prospect than incestuous relations with her father. For it implies that she is spreading her fondness of incest, and ruining Milkman's possibility of a normal future.

As an end note, I feel like there is immense potential in conducting a Freudian analysis of Ruth Foster Dead. 

Jotting down some thoughts.

(This blog post is more for my own benefit. I want to keep track of my views on these characters as the reading progresses.)

I really, really dislike Macon Dead Sr. He has an attitude that needs to go. His behavior towards his family is abysmal, and his conduct in regards to others is equally horrifying. But I still hesitate to condemn him for I know he has had a troubled childhood, and based on my previous experience with tough and rough characters like him, I want to believe in him and his ultimate love for his family. However, it's hard to find justification for his behavior towards Pilate. He cares for her, and yet feels ashamed about her and her poverty, which I feel like is a moot point since he can help her with his money.

As for Pilate herself, I find her interesting. She has an air of mystery that begs for examination. I wonder why both her daughter and granddaughter call her Mama, why she sings so well, and why she makes wine.  There is a connection between her and Milkman that intrigues me too. She cares for Ruth and her brother too. She does mention that there are three Deads still alive - which makes me wonder who is the last one that we haven't met.

Ruth strikes me as a confusing character. She seems to suffer under a light form of mental disease. Her behavior is childlike, which annoys Macon. And her insistence on breast-feeding her son is almost obsessive. Yet she is incredibly pitiful. Her role as the oppressed and misunderstood housewife is one that almost always attract sympathy.