Call Your Daughter Home

“Life has all at once grown exponentially larger than I could have ever dreamed. Electricity, the automobile and now the telephone have made it clear that possibility is endless for an enterprising mind.”

Annie is talking about inventions that are still novel in the early 20th century. Her comment also indirectly reflects the narrow-minded clannishness that has prevailed in her part of the world for centuries. The outside world now promises to intrude on the quiet, agricultural landscape South Carolina, where change is unwelcome.

“If it means a chance for them girls to live with food in their bellies. I will go to hell or jail, whichever comes first, but if they have a chance, I mean to give it to them, even if killing casts a shadow on their name.”

Gertrude is declaring her willingness to sacrifice her own life to give her daughters a better future. This speaks to the theme of Maternal Anger and Strength, but it also indirectly casts light on another problem facing her. Gossip has real power to make or break social positions in the community. Gertrude doesn’t mind killing Alvin as much as she minds the taint on her family name if her crime is brought to light.

“I hated my body and what was demanded of it for the longest time. It just seemed to me like something I didn’t fit inside. But then I gave birth to Edna, and I remember thinking how sorry I was to have thought so poorly of it.”

Gertrude was married off at the age of 14, so control over her body was transferred from her father to her husband. Being treated like a piece of property made her devalue herself. Recognizing her power to create life elevates Gertrude’s opinion of herself. This newfound self-esteem may also be the reason why she finds the courage to stand up to Alvin’s abuse and end it.

“‘Put on the whole armor of God,’ I said. ‘That’s right, so that ye may stand against the wiles of the devil. For we wrestle not with the flesh and blood, but against principalities, against the rulers of the darkness in this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.’”

Retta is having a conversation with Preacher about her involvement in white people’s affairs. His scriptural reference cautions her to defend not only her body against the abuses of the powerful but also to defend her soul. Retta has always feared speaking up against Edwin’s abuse. Her silence partly enabled him to continue to prey on children.

“It’s a powerful thing to need a friend when you can’t have her. There’s things that can only be shared among women, things menfolk want to fix but can’t, things too late for fixing.”

Retta regrets the loss of Mrs. Walker. She has no other close female friends with whom she can share confidences. She doesn’t yet realize that she will form similar ties with Annie and Gertrude. They are connected not merely by their gender but by their common bond of motherhood.

“I’ll try to get us a head start best I can with money and what we need, but we got to keep a clean house and steer clear of trouble. We’re weak alone but mighty together.”

Gertrude is trying to impress the need for proper behavior on her daughters. They don’t live in the swamp any longer. They are in town, where all their actions will be scrutinized and judged by their neighbors. Negative gossip can ruin their future prospects, so they must present a united front. In some sense, this advice reinforces the practice of Secrecy and Maintaining Appearances.

“Misery, like illness, is insidious, and my daughters have the virus. Some people need to blame others for their unhappiness. Parents are always easy targets.”

Annie succinctly invalidates her daughters’ anger toward her. She cut them off without ever hearing their accusations against Edwin. He appears to be a leading citizen whose morality is beyond question because he looks the part. In this quote, Annie reveals her own closed-mindedness even though she sees herself as a progressive and enlightened individual.

“When the Reverend came from his dinner table, napkin still around his neck, I signed my daughter as wife over to a boy who is likely no better than the husband I killed. I left her on the porch steps by his side. Neither of us said goodbye.”

Gertrude is quick to notice the parallel between her own early marriage and Lily’s. She is motivated by the desire to avoid gossip and scandal. In doing so, she is treating Lily like the commodity that Gertrude once was when Alvin married her. The good opinion of the community weighs more heavily in the balance than her daughter’s future happiness.

“It’s a terrible thing to lose a child. Many women endure it and many more will long after I am gone. Some become weak and frail from such a blow, but not me. I became hard, as if a layer of armor grew over my skin—some impenetrable ancient alligator.”

Annie is thinking about Buck’s death by suicide and how she coped with the tragedy. Her words and actions in the novel suggest that she is all business. She doesn’t engage in sentiment or idleness. While superficially admirable, her industrious behavior is an attempt to keep from becoming incapacitated by grief.

“But the women in front of the line got fear deep down in their bones and it’s slowed them. I’m the opposite. I run in front of my fear. All that needs to be done gets done, and then some.”

Gertrude is talking about the difference between herself and the other workers in the garment shop. They are all panicked by the diphtheria outbreak and fear they might succumb to it. Gertrude has already lived through far more harrowing experiences than an epidemic and survived. She has grit, and it will prove to be her salvation.

“It’s remarkable what one can grow on the heels of tragedy. This became my focus when Buck died, what I could see to do when I couldn’t do anything else. The fed plant always grows.”

Annie is waxing philosophical about her ability to rise from grief. The truth is that she never really dealt with the loss. She frequently indulges in chirpy aphorisms throughout the novel. These are meant to suggest her mastery of life, while, in reality, she simply avoids grappling with unpleasant realities.

“Now I wonder if trouble won’t find you again and again if you don’t speak the truth. I wonder if you got to call what you see by its proper name, to cast out the sin within.”

Retta is thinking about her complicity in Edwin’s crimes. She knew the Coles children were being abused, but she never spoke up. She has carried this secret for decades, hoping the problem would go away on its own. Now that Edwin is preying on two more children whom Retta cares about, she realizes that cycles of evil never stop on their own. They need to be exposed to the light of day.

“‘If a human being behaves like a monster, if he does monstrous things, should he be treated as a monster or a human being?’ ‘The correct answer is human being, of course.’ ‘I don’t care about correct. I care about what you truly think.’”

Annie is having a dinner conversation with the local doctor shortly after she discovers Edwin’s pedophile trophies. She sees her husband for what he is but doesn’t know what to do about the situation. Not knowing the context, the doctor is taken aback by the question. Since their conversation is interrupted, Annie never gets her answer. She must decide for herself on the right course of action.

“If you reach a point in life where it feels there is only dark around you, that’s ’cause there is. You got to find the light. A hole can be a haven, but you can’t stay in a hole forever. What’s dark must come to light. Every person needs the sun.”

Retta is recalling some advice that her grandmother gave. The old woman once harbored a fugitive enslaved man who feared coming out of the shelter of her basement to make a run for freedom. Retta faces the same dilemma by suppressing her knowledge of Edwin’s crimes. Until she speaks the truth in public, Retta remains imprisoned by fear, but the alternative could be death.

“We’ve reached the end, you and I. It wasn’t how I imagined, but we both deserve what’s coming—all of it, you, for your disgusting proclivities, and me, for standing by you instead of our children. The good news is it will finally be over.”

Annie is confronting Edwin with the truth. She recognizes that they are both at fault. Although she believes herself to be wiser than the common folk of Branchville, she is equally adept at glossing over inconvenient truths. Superficial harmony is all that matters. Fortunately, Annie comes to realize the folly of this stance before it’s too late.

“‘Shake Rag ain’t no pen for cattle,’ I say. ‘You think you invented suffering? Times are hard everywhere. All you got to do is step out beyond the lane and see we aren’t the only ones hurting. Sorrow don’t know color. Y’all grown enough to know that.’”

Retta is lecturing her Shake Rag neighbors who disapprove of her charity toward the Pardee family. As Retta rightly points out, even members of the white community are suffering. Though Retta’s neighbors experience discrimination, they also discriminate based on their prejudices.

“What I took for quiet intent and focus all these years of our marriage was, in actuality, duplicity. I simply chose to believe the wrong narrative. A person’s character should be plainly seen.”

Annie is describing her misperception of Edwin. Like everybody else in Branchville, she makes superficial judgments about the merits of an individual based on their social standing, wealth, and presentability. While it’s true that character should be plainly seen, everyone is dissembling and pretending to be someone they aren’t based on their rank in the pecking order. This makes discernment much more difficult.

“After I married he said, ‘You live in a fantasy, Annie. Don’t be fooled by appearances. A quiet place can still hold chaos.’ None of this is what my father wanted for me.”

Annie’s father was a better judge of character than his daughter. She left Charleston to marry Edwin and live in what she perceived as a pastoral paradise. Ironically, the depravity of Branchville is equal to anything the slums of a big city could produce. Even after Edwin preyed on her own children, she persisted in her fantasy. It was easier to believe a pretty lie.

“‘Mary and your girls. What speaks the truth is their love for you.’ ‘They’d feel different if they knew what I did to their daddy.’ She looks at me. ‘If not him, it was gonna be you,’ I tell her. ‘My soul is damned.’ ‘Bull,’ I say. ‘Your soul is freed.’”

Retta and Gertrude are finally talking about Alvin’s murder. Unfortunately, Gertrude is steeped in religious dogma that dictates a man has dominion over his wife. Thus, not only would her neighbors judge her, but God would judge her soul as well. Gertrude’s bringing her fears into the light allows Retta to absolve Gertrude of her guilt.

“There was gonna be a reckoning. She wasn’t no little chicken anymore. She became a mama hen. And she thought you can do it to me, but I’m not gonna allow you to do it to my little chickens.”

The preacher at Homecoming Camp tells this story to illustrate God’s love for his children. The parallel to Gertrude’s situation is obvious. All three mothers in the novel finally rise up and rebel against the status quo when the lives of their babies are threatened. They lose their fear of personal consequences when their love for others asserts itself.

“For a long time I tried to think what I done wrong. I figured there must have been something to cause him to be so mad all the time, but no matter how I put my head to it, I couldn’t figure it out. And then he started in on my girls, and that just wasn’t right.”

This quote by Gertrude echoes the message in the preacher’s parable. As a wife, Gertrude was willing to take the blame for Alvin’s bad behavior. She masochistically believed that she had somehow provoked him. However, it was far more difficult for her to rationalize injury against innocent children. Once Alvin crossed that line, she lost her self-doubt.

“Maybe we all have two sides. What are mine? Cowardice and courage? I am a coin that has lain on one side for too long.”

Annie is thinking about her own past behavior. Just as she previously highlighted the choice of narrative that she could believe about Edwin, she is now considering her personal narrative. Unwittingly, she uses the analogy of a coin to describe herself. Coins may be presented as generous gifts, but they are also the bait that Edwin uses to lure his victims.

“Everyone is drawn to him. He is who they want recognition from, not me. I am the means to an end, simply useful to gain advantage, nothing more. Each person that steps up to exhibit concern for me, for our family, does so in hopes of gaining or maintaining favor with my husband.”

Annie sees the sham respect being paid to her for the sake of the economic benefits that her husband might bestow. All the citizens of Branchville operate from the same premise. He is the feudal lord of the town, and they are his subjects. Annie is his consort. Superficial pleasantries are necessary to sustain the illusion that everything is perfect in the realm. Annie is about to destroy that illusion by speaking the truth.