these innovative methods: "In the later books also I began to understand how in using Afro-American folklore and language I didn’t have to give up any of the goals that I was after when I was using more Europeanized and more traditional—literary traditional— devices and techniques."

As the closing tale in Damballah, "The Beginning of Homewood" exemplifies these Afrocentric literary methods with striking clarity. As Seidmann, a critic, observes, Wideman's narrator "creates a wall of sound from the voices he has unloosed in the preceding stories; writing to his brother in prison, he acknowledges that his real task as a writer has been to hear and synthesize those women’s testimonials to the community’s history of defeat and transcendence." Essentially, he channels the voices of Sybela, May, and Bess, allowing them to narrate their stories through him, transcending the boundaries of time, culture, and space. This narrative choice also reflects on the storyteller’s role in African-American culture. Such self-awareness regarding the writer's role is a hallmark of modern literature, as Seidmann notes. Wideman, like many of his peers, partakes in the metafictional self-reflection that typifies his cohort of American writers, pondering the intricate dance between writing and real-life events. However, as Wideman articulates in his dialogue with Coleman, African-American writers face deeper stakes. "Storytellers are always inside and outside the story by definition. Sometimes in Afro-American culture there are these little doors, there are these wonderful windows by which the storyteller gets pulled back, so he doesn’t feel too lonely, doesn’t feel left out . . ."

Setting: Mythical Spaces

Just as Wideman’s embrace of diverse narrative voices allows him to explore multiple viewpoints, his use of varied and expansive settings enriches the story’s breadth and impact. Pinning down the exact location of the story is no simple task. Is it rooted in the place from which the narrator pens his letter to his brother? Is it the plantation in Maryland? Perhaps it's the Homewood of the mid-nineteenth century, or that of the 1970s and 1980s? Could it be the Fort Collins courtroom, the scene of the narrator's last encounter with his brother? Or even the Greek island where the narrator first contemplates these tales? Wideman's intent is clear: the story is woven through all these places and epochs, yet its true power only reveals itself when they converge, entwined and interlaced with one another.

This intricate tapestry of settings imbues Wideman’s narratives with mythic qualities. Take, for instance, the character of Sybela, who echoes the legend of an enslaved woman named Belle from an earlier time, alongside the Greek myth of the Sybil, who, when asked her desire, answered, "I want to die." The fusion of these personas and tales endows Homewood with a depth of history and meaning that might have otherwise faded without the storytellers’ intervention.

Exploring Self-Referential Storytelling

From the outset, Wideman cleverly reveals the story's self-aware nature, drawing attention to its crafted essence as fiction. Through the character John, the narrator, he recounts previous unsuccessful ventures to weave the tale of Sybela Owens and draft a letter to Tommy. Wideman deftly embeds the act of writing both the letter and story amidst a conversation about the arduous task of doing just that. This self-reflective maneuver serves as a pivotal commentary on his storytelling philosophy, which unfolds further as the narrative progresses. Additionally, it urges readers to scrutinize their preconceived notions about reading. Often misconceived as a passive exercise, reading is thought to seamlessly transmit the author's complete message. Yet, the story's self-referential nature demands readers actively engage in piecing together its meanings.

Challenging the Boundaries of Fact and Fiction

Wideman extends this gentle yet incisive challenge to reader perceptions at the collection's beginning. He introduces what appears to be a factual family tree alongside a timeline of events depicted in the stories. By doing so, Wideman compels readers to question the stark divide between fact and fiction. His playful intermingling of these realms showcases that facts are never truly objective, and fiction can indeed convey profound truths.

Narrative Voices and Unsettling Realities

The dissolution of this traditional boundary is furthered through Wideman's employment of multiple, occasionally elusive, narrators. His unconventional use of quotation marks muddles narrative transitions, crafting a tale woven from many voices. Consider the direct, embedded quote from Aunt May. As she recounts the life of Sybela Owens and their encounter, the narrative abruptly shifts to an unnamed, all-seeing narrator, who ascribes unspoken thoughts and motives to Sybela. This technique is intriguing, as John emphasizes the challenge of recounting Sybela's story, given her distant past. By intensifying this disorientation, Wideman illustrates that even the seemingly omniscient narrator is uncertain if Sybela glimpsed a shooting star or shed a tear, echoing both Sybela's own ambiguities and the storytelling challenge of bridging temporal gaps.

Temporal Fluidity and Unending Connections

As the story unfolds, the fluidity of time adds another layer of complexity. John declares the story might conclude "here, now," since Sybela has long passed. Yet, he vividly portrays Sybela, seated in her rocking chair as Aunt May once witnessed, in the present tense. Though departed, Sybela endures, trapped in this eternal moment. Her intense gaze transcends generations, forging bonds with her descendants despite the chasm of time.

The Eternal Cycle of Storytelling

Sybela's posthumous connection to her kin parallels Wideman's enduring belief in storytelling's power. Despite temporal and spatial divides, Wideman remains committed to narrating tales, crafting the finest story possible at that moment, conscious that future retellings will evolve and surpass it. In this manner, Sybela is "reborn" for her distant descendants through Aunt May's stories, and for Tommy through John's letter. This rebirth occurs precisely because the perfect, all-encompassing, final story remains elusive. Within this tapestry of narratives, Wideman strives to deliver the "truth of fiction," encapsulating the intellectual and emotional resonance of stories that foster enduring connections. As echoed in the closing sentiments of "The Beginning of Homewood," these narratives, these quests for connection, will persist indefinitely.

"The Beginning of Homewood" unfolds as a rich tapestry that contemplates the intricate dance of forging personal bonds among individuals, within the embrace of families, and throughout entire communities. In a revealing 1985 interview with Kay Bonetti, Wideman shared:

I do believe that the idea of connecting oneself to ... other people on the earth is about the only notion that's going to have any chance of saving us all. . . . I've been asking myself questions that have to do with how people are connected and what's at stake in these connections. And what, after all, do they mean? That's the meat of the fiction I've been writing.

Throughout the narrative, the quest for connection intertwines seamlessly with the journey of claiming one's identity, narrating one's story, and confronting adversity and brutal oppression without succumbing to hopelessness. Ultimately, John's plea to Tommy to "hold on" signifies that the path to connection is paved with challenges, yet it remains perpetually open, defying any external forces that seek to sever it. As long as people resist the allure of despair, the possibility of connection endures.

Discussion Questions

1. How does Wideman’s blending of genres influence our approaches to reading his work?

2. Do you concur with critics who claim that "The Beginning of Homewood" amplifies the voices of African Americans muted by the chains of slavery and the walls of incarceration? Is there truly such a concept as the collective voice of a race? Elaborate on your perspective.

3. Delve into the paradox of Charlie’s apparent control over Sybela Owens and her emergence as a potent character in their dynamic.

4. Reflect on the notion of trials as public spectacles. In light of the media frenzy surrounding the O.J. Simpson trial, do you believe that American justice has devolved into mere drama or entertainment? Provide your reasoning.

5. Debate whether John’s physical distance from his family, marked by his journey to Greece, signifies an emotional disconnection. Does his sojourn in Greece imply guilt? Justify your stance.

6. Argue whether Wideman’s text successfully presents a chorus of diverse voices, or conversely, whether the shifting narrative creates confusion within the work.

7. Examine the dual nature of the Homewood community as depicted; is it a tight-knit, supportive network exemplified by the Gospel Chorus, or a place cursed with tragedy, as Aunt May suggests?

8. How do the acts of naming in the story illuminate the theme of individual identity?

9. In your view, what is the source of Sybela Owens' vocal strength?

Introduction to "The Beginning of Homewood"

In John Edgar Wideman's collection Damballah, the story titled "The Beginning of Homewood" emerges as the concluding narrative. Before diving into an in-depth analysis, it’s crucial to address the intriguing aspects surrounding the names and structure in this tale. Two pivotal figures, the narrator and his sibling, remain unnamed within the story's confines. Yet, they recur throughout the collection under the names John and Tommy. Thus, in my examination of "The Beginning of Homewood," I will refer to these characters as John and Tommy.

The Story’s Complex Structure

The tale unfolds with a web-like complexity, making it necessary to distill its essence first. Wideman commences Damballah by articulating his perception of the collection as a series of letters addressed to his brother, Robby Wideman. However, "The Beginning of Homewood" takes the form of a letter penned by John to his incarcerated brother, Tommy. Within this correspondence, John contemplates the challenge of crafting the letter and his yearning to recount the saga of their ancestor, Sybela Owens. Amidst these reflections, John not only completes his letter but also retells Sybela's narrative. Intertwined with John's rendition is the version once recounted by his Great Aunt May, weaving a tapestry of family and community that finds its roots in Sybela herself.

Sybela Owens: A Legacy of Courage

Sybela Owens stands as a formidable African-American woman who fled the chains of slavery alongside her white lover and their offspring, ultimately settling in Philadelphia. There, they established the inaugural home in what would later become known as Homewood, the very neighborhood where John and Tommy would be raised. Though generations separate Sybela and Tommy, their stories are inextricably entwined. The most evident connection is one of lineage: John and Tommy are direct descendants of Sybela Owens, whose legacy persists through the tales of Great Aunt May. As a young girl, May encountered Sybela shortly before her passing, and now, in her twilight years, she imparts the story to John and Tommy. May serves as a living conduit, linking the past with the present, bridging the youth with bygone generations.

Family and Identity: Threads of History

This familial bond is depicted as an indispensable facet of understanding one's history and a cornerstone of self-identity. Yet, the concepts of history and identity within the narrative are fraught with complexity, as the institution of slavery sought to obliterate them. Wideman argues that for African Americans in today's world, these connections are both essential and delicate. They cannot be claimed solely through ancestry or official documentation but must be perpetually renewed and affirmed through storytelling, through the preservation of a dynamic oral tradition.

Parallel Journeys of Sybela and Tommy

These intricate notions of identity, heritage, and connection guide us to the second link between Sybela and Tommy's stories: parallelism. The narrator John reflects on the moment when the story took shape:

That's when the story, or the meditation I wanted to decorate with the trappings of a story began. [The story of] the runaway and her dash for freedom, the story I had been trying to tell for years. Its theme was to be the urge for freedom, the resolve of the runaway to live free or die. An old, simple story, but because the heroine was Great-great-great-grandmother Sybela Owens, I felt the need to tell it again.

What was not simple was the crime of this female runaway set against your crime [Tommy]. What was not simple was my need to tell Sybela's story so it connected with yours. One was root and the other branch but I was too close to you and she was too far away and there was the matter of guilt, of responsibility. I couldn't tell either story without implicating myself.

John's resolve to intertwine these narratives in parallel seeks to place each story within its rightful context. At the surface, the parallels are striking. Sybela's tale is that of a woman who courageously defies slavery and successfully escapes her master. Conversely, Tommy's saga is of a man breaking the law, becoming a fugitive, eventually captured and sentenced to life imprisonment. These shared experiences of bondage and escape efforts enable Wideman to make his most poignant commentary. By drawing explicit parallels between Sybela Owens and Tommy, Wideman illuminates the disempowerment of African Americans both during and post-slavery, under oppressive legal and economic systems.

Identity and Criminalization

Wideman does not equate the two experiences or make broad generalizations. Instead, he delves into the profound implications behind the similarities of their circumstances. Both Sybela and Tommy find themselves criminalized—Sybela by the oppressive narratives of slavery, and Tommy by the criminal justice system. Just as the slave owner endeavors to assign an identity to Sybela through naming, so too is Tommy labeled by a detective before his trial: "These are a couple of mean ones. Spades from back East. Bad dudes. Wanted in Pennsylvania for Murder One." Assigning a name effectively frames an identity, pre-condemning Tommy before a conviction, with law enforcement presuming, as John puts it, that he is "a mean nigger man." Wideman asserts that, much like the criminalization of a slave's yearning for liberty, so too is the identity of being young, black, and male criminalized in its own right.

The Power of Spectacle

Through vivid depictions of spectacle, Wideman dramatizes the racist authority wielded by slave masters and the criminal justice system. The narrator John envisions the consequences had Sybela been captured, drawing a parallel to the spectacle of Tommy's trial:

If they had managed to seize Great-great-great-grandmother Sybela Owens, her return to the plantation would have been a spectacle of triumph for them, as they flaunted you, Tommy, dressed up and shackled, through their corridors. Deprived of soap, combs, mirrors, or razors, you appeared as though you had emerged from days in the wilderness, carrying its untamed spirit into the pristine halls of justice. She, too, if captured, would have reappeared as a remnant of the wild. A fierce, unclean black woman, captured and subdued, paraded through the slave quarters like a war trophy, a mere pawn in the grand chess game of knights on horseback. Yet, her gaze, like yours, is fixed on the moon. I wonder, did you have any alternative? Had anything evolved in the years between her transgression and yours? Could you have fled without breaking the law? Were there labels other than outlaw to define you, were there terms beyond crime to describe your actions?

Systematic Spectacle of Humiliation

The spectacles are meticulously crafted to strip Sybela and Tommy of dignity, reducing them to scorned figures. They are portrayed as grimy and almost beast-like, subdued before the immaculate white realm of the privileged slave owner or the hallowed halls of justice.

Defiance Against Dehumanization

Yet, it is crucial to recognize that both Sybela and Tommy resist submission to this spectacle of disgrace. Tommy, despite being weighed down by chains as he steps into the courtroom, is said to be strutting. This defiance against dehumanization is captured in the passage, highlighted by the unwavering gaze of Sybela and Tommy upon the moon.

In John Wideman's exploration of vocal expression, the influence of Zora Neale Hurston shines brightly. Within her short stories and novels, Hurston delves into the arduous journey of African Americans, particularly women, as they fight to carve out a voice that is uniquely their own. This voice is not merely a means of communication; it is a vital lifeline that grants them an independent existence within the African-American community and allows them to shape their distinct identities. Such identities face formidable threats from the oppressive silences imposed by both racism and sexism.

Criminalization and Economic Oppression

Wideman's scrutiny of the criminalization of African Americans under racist legal frameworks and the wielding of economic oppression draws parallels with Richard Wright's acclaimed autobiography, Black Boy (1945). Wright's narrative delivers a jarring portrayal of the brutal, at times deadly, outcomes of systemic racism. Interestingly, a comparison emerges between Wright's work and Wideman's use of altered autobiographical threads in "The Beginning of Homewood." While Wright's "life story" is steeped in fiction, its label as an autobiography leads many critics to consider it factual.

Moreover, Wright's electrifying novel, Native Son (1940), vividly depicts a young African-American man's harrowing reaction to being cast as a savage within racist narratives. In contrast, Wideman's storytelling questions whether Tommy's turn to crime—and his flight from law enforcement—was an act of defiance against the pervasive lure of mainstream white capitalism. Wright provocatively suggests that his protagonist Bigger Thomas's dreadful acts of sexual violence are rooted in a profound symbolic emasculation, a response to his utter powerlessness as a black man within a constraining white-dominated society.

The Heart of the Homewood Trilogy

The anthology Damballah, which opens with the tale "The Beginning of Homewood," marks the second installment in Wideman's evocative Homewood Trilogy. Preceding this is the novel Hiding Place (1981), which delves into the escape and concealment of Tommy, a character who reappears in "The Beginning of Homewood." Tommy seeks sanctuary from the law with Mother Bess, a hermit perched atop Bruston Hill. The story unfolds to reveal how both characters are in hiding. Tommy evades the repercussions of an unintended murder during a botched theft. Yet, more profoundly, he hides from accepting responsibility for his own actions, blaming them instead on societal oppression. In parallel, Mother Bess withdraws from life to shield herself from the agony of witnessing her family endure repeated calamities—be it imprisonment, illness, or violent loss. By denying their own seclusion, they inadvertently collude with a society that has marginalized them and their kin. Their shared epiphany of interconnectedness compels them to confront the truths they dread. Henceforth, retreating from their realities is no longer an option. Together, they descend from Bruston Hill, prepared to confront their duties and challenge the injustices of a system they will no longer silently endure.

The Mystical Legacy of Homewood

The trilogy reaches its crescendo in the final volume, Sent for You Yesterday (1983), which delves deeper into the theme of voices and representations as anchors of identity, first touched upon in Damballah. This narrative weaves around a mystical force akin to the one Sybela Owens bequeaths to Aunt May, a mystic power that weaves through the generations of Homewood's inhabitants. This gift is a conduit for summoning the mental images and voices of the Homewood community's past and present members. Those endowed with such powers serve as keepers of identity and memory, safeguarding the legacies and stories of their people. Through Albert Wilkes's piano melodies, Brother Tate's art and music, and ultimately, John—the narrator of Sent for You Yesterday—through his vibrant storytelling and dance, the essence of Homewood's individuals and the collective spirit of the community are preserved. Wideman declares that this communal power transcends death itself; it endures as long as the community endures.

Thus, The Homewood Trilogy emerges as a tapestry of interwoven tales and characters. While "The Beginning of Homewood" can stand alone, the myriad hints and potentialities in this intricate story truly unfold when the trilogy is embraced in its entirety.

Sources

Brent, Linda, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl, Harcourt Brace, 1973.

Kenan, Randall, ‘‘A Most Righteous Prayer,’’ in The Nation, Vol. 250, No. 1, January 1, 1990, pp. 25–27.

Leonard, John, Review in New York Times, November 27, 1981, p. 23, col. 1.

Lustig, Jessica, ‘‘Home: An Interview with John Edgar Wideman,’’ in Conversations with John Edgar Wideman, edited by Bonnie TuSmith, University Press of Mississippi, 1998.

Mbalia, Doreatha Drummond, John Edgar Wideman: Reclaiming the African Personality, Susquehanna University Press, 1995.

McDowell, Edwin, Review in New York Times Book Review, November 13, 1994, p. 11.

O’Brien, John, ‘‘John Wideman,’’ in Conversations with John Edgar Wideman, edited by Bonnie TuSmith, University Press of Mississippi, 1998.

Watkins, Mel, Review in New York Times Book Review, April 11, 1982, p. 6.

Further Reading

Coleman, James, Blackness and Modernism: The Literary Career of John Edgar Wideman, University Press of Mississippi, 1989. This study takes on the complicated issues that arise when the Eurocentric models of modernism are applied to African-American writing.

Du Bois, W. E. B., The Souls of Black Folk, 1903. This essay is one of the classics in the study of African-American literature. In it Du Bois explains his theories of second sight.

Hurston, Zora Neale, Mules and Men, Perennial Library, 1990. This pioneering work by the anthropologist and writer remains the landmark study of African-American culture in the post-reconstruction South.