Put simply, Hurston wrote well when she was comfortable, wrote poorly when she was not.
The icy sword of the square-toed one had cut off his breath and left his hands in a pose of agonizing protest.
The sounds lulled Janie to soft slumber and she woke up with Tea Cake combing her hair.
As Hurston herself noted, “Roll your eyes in ecstasy and ape his every move, but until we have placed something upon his street corner that is our own, we are right back where we were when they filed our iron collar off.
She tore off the kerchief from her head and let down her plentiful hair. The weight, the length, the glory was there.
Why, Tea Cake? Whut good do combin’ mah hair do you? It’s mah comfortable, not yourn.” “It’s mine too. Ah ain’t been sleepin’ so good for more’n uh week cause Ah been wishin’ so bad tuh git mah hands in yo’ hair. It’s so pretty. It feels jus’ lak underneath uh dove’s wing next to mah face.
Ah betcha you wants some dressed up dude dat got to look at de sole of his shoe everytime he cross de street tuh see whether he got enough leather dere tuh make it across.
The mediocre have no importance except through appointment. They feel invaded and defeated by the presence of creative folk among them.
Pheoby’s hungry listening helped Janie to tell her story. So she went on thinking back to her young years and explaining them to her friend in soft, easy phrases while all around the house, the night time put on flesh and blackness.
The Estate of Zora Neale Hurston would like to thank those people who have worked so hard over the years in introducing new generations of readers to the work of Zora Neale Hurston. We are indebted to Robert Hemenway, Alice Walker, and all the Modern Language Association folks who helped usher in Zora’s rediscovery.
After all the imagination is a beautiful thing.
Tea Cake went out and wandered around. Saw the hand of horror on everything.
Words walking without masters; walking altogether like harmony in a song.
Naw, it’s real. Ah couldn’t stand it if he wuz tuh quit me. Don’t know whut Ah’d do. He kin take most any lil thing and make summertime out of it when times is dull. Then we lives offa dat happiness he made till some mo’ happiness come along.
They, the men, were saving with the mind what they lost with the eye. The women took the faded shirt and muddy overalls and laid them away for remembrance.
She left the porch pelting her back with unasked questions. They hoped the answers were cruel and strange.
Well, Ah see Mouth-Almighty is still sittin’ in de same place. And Ah reckon they got me up in they mouth now.
Things lak dat got uh whole lot tuh do wid convenience, but it ain’t got nothin’ tuh do wid love.
If God don’t think no mo’ ’bout ’em then Ah do, they’s a lost ball in de high grass.
If they wants to see and know, why they don’t come kiss and be kissed? Ah could then sit down and tell ’em things. Ah been a delegate to de big ’ssociation of life. Yessuh! De Grand Lodge, de big convention of livin’ is just where Ah been dis year and a half y’all ain’t seen me.