Lazy Sunday

The past two weeks have been super-busy, so I decided to have a lazy Sunday. I made myself some homemade pancakes and read Twilight Sleep. Very nice.

There Are No Children Here

Good book. Comfy blanket. Dorky socks.

Author: Alex Kotlowitz

Category: I had heard about this book in passing over the years, but was intrigued to start reading it after it was mentioned in A Hope in the Unseen.

My thoughts: This book was very good, but hard to read. I probably would have finished it earlier, but I couldn’t read too much at once because it was just so depressing. It raises a lot of questions with no solutions. There Are No Children Here is set in the Henry Horner Homes, brutal housing projects in Chicago, in the late 1980s. The story follows two young brothers, Lafeyette and Pharoah Rivers (that’s actually how their names are spelled—autocorrect does not approve) as they navigate this cruel world where drugs are sold, gangs run rampant, and murder is the norm. Their mother, LaJoe, has seven children in all at the age of thirty-five.

Reading this book, I was reminded of The Warmth of Other Suns. The occurrences in There Are No Children Here reveal the ugly underbelly of the Great Migration’s successors. Blacks who migrated to Chicago were forced to live in slummy sections of the city. Low-income housing (the projects) was built in the middle of the 20th Century ostensibly to provide shelter for the urban poor. But what was meant to be a solution created a much bigger problem. I was also reminded of the 1970s sitcom Good Times , which was set in Chicago, while reading this book. During the opening and closing credits of Good Times, the Cabrini-Green housing projects were featured. My mom said she never cared much for Good Times because nothing good ever happened to the Evans family until the very last episode. Reading this book, I see that this is how things are—in that way, the series reflected real life (that is, until that miraculous last episode when the stars suddenly and perfectly aligned for the Evans family). There are small victories for the Rivers family (Pharoah, who is more sensitive than his brother, gets second place in the spelling bee), but there is not a Deus ex machina that pulls the Rivers family out of poverty. There Are No Children Here reveals how people get trapped in this cycle of poverty, and it is very hard to break that cycle.

The book takes its name from a quote from Lafeyette and Pharoah’s mom, LaJoe: “But you know, there are no children here. They’ve seen too much to be children.” It’s really hard to read about these children who have witnessed so much horror and despair in their young lives. Lafeyette in particular is afraid to get close to people because he doesn’t know if they will either be a bad influence or end up getting killed. And, unfortunately, a quick Google search reveals that Lafeyette and Pharoah do not have real-life fairy tale endings. It’s also unfortunate that this cycle of violence is still going on in Chicago. And there seems to be no end in sight. There have been so many young lives snuffed out. Then I think about Cedric Jennings from A Hope in the Unseen, and if there are any differences between his situation and that of the Rivers family. What separated Cedric from Lafeyette and Pharoah was that he, Cedric, had a really strong, driven mother, a much better support system and way more stubbornness and drive. I think the key to getting out of poverty is access to a good education. However, that in itself is not exactly easy.

Great passage: For the first time, Pharoah, now ten, began to wonder aloud about being black. “Do all black people live in projects?” he asked his mother. “Do all black people be poor?” He was upset that Michael Dukakis hadn’t chosen Jesse Jackson at his running mate. “He might of won then,” he thought aloud. “Why don’t people elect black people?”

P.S. Even though Good Times was, at times, depressing, it was still funny.

Up next: Twilight Sleep, by my beloved Edith Wharton

Off Topic: Now, Voyager

Now, Voyager (1942)

Category: I first came across Now, Voyager during my old movie phase as a teenager.

My thoughts: I love this movie, but it’s a bit melodramatic, especially toward the end. Now, Voyager has several elements: mother/daughter conflict, star-crossed lovers, and a glimpse into psychiatry in the early 1940s. This movie is the story of Charlotte Vale (played by Bette Davis), whose crotchety mother is domineering to the point of tyranny. As a result, Charlotte is incredibly repressed and on the verge of a breakdown. A kind psychiatrist, Dr. Jaquith (played by Claude Rains), intervenes, sends Charlotte to a sanitarium. She then gets a makeover (the kind always featured in those preteen novels I used to read, when an awkward girl returned to school in the fall with a completely new look) and goes on a cruise. There, she meets and falls in love with Jerry, played by Paul Henreid. But, you know, the course of true love never did run smooth.

The moment Charlotte comes back from her cruise and moves in with her mother again, it’s business as usual as far as her mother is concerned. Her mother refuses to acknowledge that Charlotte has grown. It’s a reminder that when you’ve experienced positive changes in life, it does not mean that the people around you have done the same or even appreciate that you’ve changed. People tend to relapse into the same roles, especially adults and their children. This film features a cute and famous moment where Jerry lights two cigarettes and then gives one to Charlotte. Well, I’m sure it was cute in 1942—nowadays, the Surgeon General and every anti-smoking organization in America would be after those two.

When I first saw this movie, it was a bit odd seeing Bette Davis play such a milquetoast after seeing her be something of a hellraiser in All About Eve. And those infamous Bette Davis eyes convey Charlotte’s sense of sadness, just as they blazed with fury in All About Eve—really, Bette Davis was a phenomenal actress. It was also unusual for me to see Claude Rains in such a kind role after seeing him play shady characters in Notorious, Casablanca, and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. And I usually think of Paul Henreid as Victor Lazlo from Casablanca. The movie is based on a novel by Olive Higgins Prouty, who also wrote Stella Dallas, which was also made into a movie, but I’ve never seen it. The novel takes its name from a line in a Walt Whitman poem: “Now, voyager, sail thou forth, to seek and find.” This actually reminds me of Tennyson’s "Ulysses." This is a good movie for a lazy weekend, when you just want to curl up in a blanket and watch a good black and white movie.

Great lines:
Dr. Jaquith: “My dear Mrs. Vale, if you had deliberately and maliciously planned to destroy your daughter’s life, you couldn’t have done it more completely.”
Charlotte’s mom: “How? By having exercised a mother’s rights?”
Dr. Jaquith: “A mother’s rights, twaddle. A child has rights, a person has rights, to discover her own mistakes, to make her own way, to grow and blossom in her own particular soil.”