Shifting Perspective in Toni Morrison: A Mercy

This time we’re looking at one of my favorite Toni Morrison books: A Mercy. It was fun to read this as part of my MFA program. Toni Morrison has a very particular writing style and way of doing plot. Let’s dive in.

Toni Morrison uses a shifting perspective in “A Mercy” to tell the story of the Vaark family and the girl Rebekka whom Jacob Vaark takes as payment for a debt. Morrison uses chapter breaks to get involved with different people in the story, making the perspective constantly shift. Details and perspectives are filled in from all these perspectives, but the effect can be a bit jerky. This sort of format works well in TV, somewhat in film but doesn’t fit literature; there is too much going on. Also, it’s not clear who the reader needs to invest in, which leads us to being invested in various characters. It’s nice to have an anchor, but Morrison keeps the reader on the move. 

In the chapter about the enslaved persons, the style is written as a letter from a woman to her man. She relates her struggle to find her lost love and the trials and tribulations of that. There is a large chapter of that, and then the story turns and changes style. The fact that the chapters are written in the personal letter style follows much more closely a specific vernacular of uprooted African people also creates a contrast of style. This style is used anytime we are with Rebekka. 

In the next chapter, we shift to the perspective of a trader going to the same plantation to collect a debt, and we are introduced to Rebekka, who will be the focal point of the rest of the story. This perspective allows the author to make great leaps in time without having to indicate them or establish them. The point of view shifts from 1st to 3rd, and the writing style is so different.  We bounce back to “normal 3rd person fiction,” and it is evident, almost without being told, that all the characters are white. There are other cues like people in business and landed aristocracy, but it is the craft that really hits home before the more obvious cues. This is subtle and yet so obvious, and without saying a word, the author shows the different worlds and lives of the characters. A more typical fiction style is used for other parts of the story. These contrasting styles also limit the amount of dialogue. The chapters with Rebekka are sparse with dialogue; it’s mostly her internal feelings as if she were telling them to her man, and the other chapters have limited discussion. We spend most of the time inside the characters, which makes the shifting perspectives all the more difficult to read. 

The chapter of the enslaved woman is written like a letter. Her lover is the addressee, and there is a familiarity there. Suddenly, we shift out of that into what would be considered ordinary fiction with the turn of a page. From geographic cues and description, we know that both the slave woman the trader is in the same place in Maryland. So we know that these stories are going to intersect, and they do right away. Once we see how Rebekka is purchased and how successful Vaark becomes, the book shifts focus again just to Rebekka and her struggle. Obviously, her struggle is entwined with the fortunes of her master, but we don’t hear much from her directly afterward.

However, throughout the book, we also get information from Lina, her native friend who is also at the Vaark plantation, and her experiences of life continuing with the illness of the Vaark family while Rebekka is traveling. Still, later, we get perspectives from Willard and Scully. Toward the end, we even get scenes from the D’Ortega plantation where Rebekka was purchased. Again, another perspective introduced to the greater story. 

The effect is like reading different books at once. The linguistic style changes and the point of view changes are jarring, even after several chapters. I found that it tends to pull the reader out of the story. Often, the reader has information that the characters do not possess, leading to a very different involvement in the story for the reader. It is a different kind of investment, but it is compelling. The story is rich with detail and meaning in typical Morrison fashion, but all the different storylines going along make for confusing reading. 

This book got me thinking about the structure of Sweetgrass. There are other characters and stories on the plantation outside of the central characters established so far. Unfortunately, my structure does not lend itself to the shifting perspectives of “A Mercy,” but it does encourage me to look for opportunities to create some subplots which are a bit lacking right now.