Why Depictions of Reality Are Healthy in Novels

¶ … Women of Brewster Place

The realistic artist's or novelist's job is to reflect the world around them and if the world around them is one in which gratuitousness, violence, bad language, and graphic sexuality are rampant, then the artist/novelist has some responsibly in accurately depicting the world in which he or she is situated. It does not necessarily mean that the author condones or supports such a world, merely that he knows it and is compelled to show it so that we, the viewer/reader, can see it and ourselves in it and reflect on our own lives, actions, impulses -- and even, if the artist/writer affords us the opportunity, on the "way out" -- a vision of something higher that can lead the world out of the mess in which it is situated. It does not have to be any overwhelming message or sign: in fact, it can be something as subtle as a simple depiction of a good action, or a change or turn in one's behavior -- a mere thought that elevates and points to the transcendent. In The Women of Brewster Place, Gloria Naylor depicts violence, sex, vulgarity, and explicit language -- but at the same time Naylor also shows a world of inner beauty inside the barbarous world of unfaithful men and women, cheating each other, fighting and being cruel. For instance, Mattie's devotion to Etta as she waits up all night for her to come home while Etta is sleeping with the Reverend is a moment that reveals the deep tenderness and charity that one soul has for another who is caught in the lust of the blood. Against the backdrop of depravity and self-ruin, moments like these stand out and shine and give hope to anyone who has ever spent time in reality and knows what it is like to live in the world without hope. Therefore, while off-putting for some, the depiction of sex, violence and raw language has its place in stories, and can be helpful in acting as a relief of the good, true and beautiful transcendental moments that stand out from the backdrop.

For example, there is the scene in which Sam beats a young Mattie with a broom stick and Fannie challenges Sam to stop before she asserts that she will "meet his soul in Hell" if he doesn't lay off. Sam is caught in a rage and does not realize what he is doing until Fannie finally gets through to him -- after he has already beaten Mattie to a pulp and torn her clothing and sent her flying across the floor as though she were a dog. When he comes to himself and realizes what he has done, he finally sees -- as though waking up from his rage and being restored to himself: Naylor states, "A slow moan came from the pile of torn clothes and bruised flesh on the floor. Sam Michael looked at it, saw that it was his daughter, and he dropped the stick and wept" (p. 24). Moments like these strike straight to the heart of the human reader and evoke a sense of pity and fear, just like a tragic scene should do. The fear comes from the sense that this could happen to you too, as you imagine how easy it is to lose one's temper and become a raging beast; the pity comes from the sense that Sam is a human who has made a terrible mistake -- but in his mistake we see the depth of his sorrow and grief, which compels the reader to empathize and sympathize for all. It is a moment of pity that could not be possible were the reality of the situation depicted in such graphic terms of violence and language. The reality is what brings home the point of catharsis. If there is no realistic depiction, the cathartic effect is lessened. Thus, these moments have their place in literature and because they are authentic, they should not be condemned.

Gratuitousness is something else altogether. Gratuitousness is the use of violence, sex, and language for its own sake -- to shock just for the sake of giving the audience a thrill: the thrill is no different from the thrill of lust or hatred or anger. But Naylor is not being gratuitous in her depiction of scenes like this one. She is simply being honest about what has happened to her characters -- and there is a point beyond the violence and rage and sex that she sees and gets the reader to see as well: the point of humanity, where the soul is exposed beneath the layers of animalistic passion, and that glimmer of something beautiful and meaningful beneath it all shines through, planting in the audience the hope or the sense of need for redemption, for some kind of "way out."