Legend and Legacy in Song of Solomon

 As Milkman travels back to Pennsylvania and Virginia to return to the homes of his ancestors, he encounters communities that see his family in an entirely different light than he does. Up to this point in the narrative, Milkman has spent essentially his entire life feeling ashamed of his family. In his hometown, Macon II is hated for his stinginess and greed as a landlord, and Milkman feels a private shame and disgust about all the baggage tied to his mother and father’s relationship. When he reaches Danville, however, he discovers that the town’s collective memory of Macon II is of someone Milkman hardly recognizes as his father. He learns that there, Macon I was a larger-than-life figure, with his rags-to-riches story offering hope to the people around him. Macon II, the young boy who “worked right alongside” his father, is therefore very much a part of this piece of folklore. These men that talk to Milkman have seen their local hero murdered, his farm stolen, and the wealthy white family behind it face no consequences for the harm they’ve caused. As such, hearing that Macon I’s son has built himself a property empire is a source of catharsis for them, a sign despite all that was taken for their family, he couldn’t be kept down. As Milkman begins to understand all that his grandfather meant to the town, he feeds off of their enthusiasm, telling them with pride how Macon II married the daughter of the wealthiest Black doctor in town, sent his sisters to college, and kept Milkman home to “work right alongside” him, just as Macon II did with his own father.

The reality of Macon’s life is, of course, more complicated and morally ambiguous. His relationship with Ruth (and the doctor, for that matter) is far from the simple triumph it’s made out to be. Corinthians’ college education leaves her entirely unprepared to live in the real world, while Lena doesn’t go at all, fearing how Macon will harm Ruth if she’s not around. And for all Milkman’s claims of working “right alongside” his father, his job still seems to be essentially to run collecting rents. Nonetheless, it’s hard to overstate the impact that Milkman’s stories have on the men of Danville, who, after years of despair over Macon I’s death, are finally given something to “rekindle the dream” he once offered them.

Many of the other shared legends embedded within the bigger story of Song of Solomon also have a darker underbelly, and their heroes are often more complex than meets the eye. Ruth’s father, the eponymous hero of Not Doctor Street, is widely respected and beloved, and yet he’s hardly the upstanding man the town believes him to be: he has an uncomfortably intimate relationship with Ruth, he’s blatantly colorist, and behind his facade of a distinguished physician, he’s addicted to ether. Solomon’s flight home offers a story of inspiration to the people of Shalimar (and to Milkman himself, when he learns about it), but in his escape, he leaves his wife and twenty-one children behind in slavery. And in many ways, the novel itself reads as a legend about Milkman’s life, but this improbable survivor who’s born under mystical circumstances also grows into a man-child who is apathetic, immature, and sometimes outright cruel. Even his journey of self-actualization is not without its unintended harms: Morrison interrupts his “hero’s journey” narrative for an entire chapter to describe how his departure drives Hagar into depression, then manic obsession, then finally, death.

One question that the novel grapples with is whether the ugly truths hidden within these legends matter to their overall impact. If hearing of Macon II’s success brings hope back to a town that’s been grieving for decades, does it change the weight of his story that he’s an unforgiving landlord and a suffocating husband and father? If Dr. Foster offers his community a figure to rally around with pride, should his private misdeeds tarnish his legacy? When a father’s flight inspires hope and gives his children a reason to dream, does it matter who he leaves behind? Ultimately, this is one of the conflicts at the heart of Song of Solomon, and the novel doesn’t offer us straightforward answers to any of these questions.