Not Just Sonny's Blues

I feel like there's a lot more to "Sonny's Blues" than just a story about Sonny and the narrator and their relationship. It's the plot, yes, but what I felt myself thinking while the narrator was describing things (such as his reflection on and reaction to Sonny's performance) so vividly, was the circumstances of all the people around him and the realities they have to face. 

One connection that I think would be helpful to make would be how the narrator comments on the boys at his school:

"They were growing up with a rush and their heads bumped abruptly against the low ceiling of their actual possibilities. They were filled with rage. All they really knew were two darknesses, the darkness of their lives, which was now closing in on them, and the darkness of the movies, which has blinded them to that other darkness, and in which they now, vindictively, dreamed, at once more together than they were at any other time, and more alone."

I know how we discussed in class that it seems like the narrator doesn't really seem all that empathetic (or willing to be empathetic), but I feel like his insight here, if it isn't empathy, is still very keen. He grew up in Harlem, and he's still in Harlem, and while he's now an Algebra teacher who doesn't do drugs and has a nice family, I feel like there's also this sense of loss, or resignation. It's so true that these boys have such limited possibilities in life, and it's also probably true that our narrator wanted more out of his life as well. 

When the narrator was describing Sonny's music, and all the feelings it evoked, I thought it was extremely well-put. Yes, there is so much darkness and suffering out there, and it will be there for a very long time, if not forever. Yes, no matter what Sonny does, whether if it's music or drugs or some other way to make his life a little bit better, he'll never truly escape or break free. However, his music acknowledges the darkness, and it provides these moments of hope and beauty. Of course, Sonny will continue to struggle and hurt, and he'll keep doing that forever--"I heard what he had gone though, and would continue to go through until he came to rest in earth". The world will remain "as hungry as a tiger" and trouble will continue to stretch above them, "longer than the sky". But in those moments, our narrator recognizes the hope and the freedom that Sonny's music provides, and that helps him accept Sonny and his fight. 

After carefully considering everything, I feel like Baldwin's story is really also a way to talk about the struggles of black people in the United States. I feel like Sonny's struggles with heroin and his music acts as a vehicle for this conversation. If Baldwin were more explicit, I feel like it might have made people (more so during that time period, probably?) defensive or dismissive*. I find the most compelling parts in our narrator's language when he describes Sonny's music. Honestly, I kinda felt like I was out of my element thinking about this stuff, since we didn't really discuss it in class all that much. The things I was thinking about seemed... Not exactly like a reach, but there was this worry that I didn't really get the full extent of what Baldwin was trying to do? I guess that's because I am in unfamiliar territory. Just like how the narrator can try to work on his empathy, and try and understand Sonny's experiences, I can think about these things hard, but I won't really get what exactly he meant to do. There might even be more distance. And I think identity and historical context plays a big part--he's a black man in the 1950s, and I'm an Asian girl in the 2010s. One thing that hasn't changed (of many, I suppose), though, I think, is the darkness, which is still here. 

* I get part of this idea from reading one of Baldwin's essays that I stumbled across, while I was trying to find PDFs of his stories. Here's a link if you'd like to read it--it's pretty nice.