Whatever it is called—muse, insight, inspiration, “the dark finger that
guides,” “bright angel”—it exists and, in many forms, I have trusted it ever
since.
The challenge of Song of Solomon was to manage what was for me a
radical shift in imagination from a female locus to a male one. To get out of
the house, to de-domesticate the landscape that had so far been the site of
my work. To travel. To fly. In such an overtly, stereotypically male
narrative, I thought that straightforward chronology would be more suitable
than the kind of play with sequence and time I had employed in my
previous novels. A journey, then, with the accomplishment of flight, the
triumphant end of a trip through earth, to its surface, on into water, and
finally into air. All very saga-like. Old-school heroic, but with other
meanings. Opening the novel with the suicidal leap of the insurance agent,
ending it with the protagonist’s confrontational soar into danger, was meant
to enclose the mystical but problematic one taken by the Solomon of the
title.
I have written, elsewhere and at some length, details of how certain
sentences get written and the work I hope they do. Let me extrapolate an
example here.
“The North Carolina Mutual Life Insurance agent promised to fly from
Mercy to the other side of Lake Superior at 3:00.”
This declarative sentence is designed to mock a journalistic style. With a
minor alteration it could be the opening of an item in a small town
newspaper. It has the tone of an everyday event of minimal local interest,
yet I wanted it to contain important signs and crucial information. The name
of the insurance company is that of a well-known black-owned company
dependent on black clients, and in its corporate name are “life” and
“mutual.” The sentence starts with “North Carolina” and closes with “Lake
Superior”—geographical locations that suggest a journey from south to
north—a direction common for black immigration and in the literature
about it, but which is reversed here since the protagonist has to go south to
mature. Two other words of significance are “fly” and “mercy.” Both terms
are central to the narrative: flight as escape or confrontation; mercy the
unspoken wish of the novel’s population. Some grant it; some despise it;