"Jim looked at the trash, and then looked at me, and back at the trash again. He had got the dream fixed so strong in his head that he couldn't seem to shake it loose and get the facts back into its place again, right away. But when he did get the thing straightened around, he looked at me steady, without ever smiling and says:
"'What do dey stan' for? I's gwyne to tell you. When I got all wore out wid work, en wid callin' for you, en went to sleep, my heart wuz mos' broke bekase you wuz los', en I didn' k'yer no mo' what become er me en de raf'. En when I wake up en fine you back again', all safe en soun', de tears come en I could a got down on my knees en kiss' yo foot I's so thankful. En all you wuz thinkin 'bout wuz how you could make a fool uz ole Jim wid a lie. Dat truck day is trash; en trash is what people is dat puts dirt on de head er day fren's en makes 'em ashamed.'
"Then he got up slow, and walked to the wigwam, and went in there, without saying anything but that. But that was enough. It made me feel so mean I could almost kissed his foot to get him to take it back.
"It was fifteen minutes before I could work myself up to go and humble myself to a nigger --but I done it, and I warn't ever sorry for it afterwards, neither. I didn't do him no more mean tricks, and I wouldn't done that one if I'd a knowed it would make him feel that way."
Great moment of literature. I'd remembered it with a stronger low feeling on Huck's part, but it's beautiful as is. Huck's response is complex, at least for him, and this is interesting; but Jim has achieved the grace of higher and deeper emotion, greater sensitivity, and has been through more. The passage leading up to this is worth reading, as Huck recounts drifting down the river in the fog, disoriented, hearing Jim's call, but calm to the reckless element of this turn of adventure.
The problem with Scrooge is not so much that he is strictly a miser, but far sadder, that he is out of touch with his emotions. He lets the love of his life depart in his coldness. In Twain here, above, we get an awakening in Huck, a discovery of the emotional life, given to him by his wiser companion, Mr. Jim.
A book is about the impossible sweetness we have within us, but which we feel somewhat compelled to hide for its lack of practicality, but that it is ever expanding in us like a buds of a branch on spring's currents. We gain it from our joyful romps as kids in nature, and then as adults we realize one day its vitality, its necessity. The book is the author's battle with admitting that deep kindness directed in all ways and not feeling like a fool about it, but coming to terms with it. Like The Brother's Karamazov.
Great Poets
Emily Dickinson: called back.
Me: called in.
To work, that is.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment