On the Corner of 6th and Selfhood: Identity & the City.

In her masterfully written and highly sophisticated novel, Jazz, Pulitzer and Nobel Prize Winning author, Toni Morrison uses fresh and unconventional narrative techniques (in a style reminiscent of literary predecessors like Faulkner and Melville) to encapsulate the soul of New York City as a character and a symbolic representation of identity.

Morrison’s depiction of the City goes far beyond the typical use of literary setting as mere backdrop to have it play a distinct role of its own. Within the first moments of Jazz, we are introduced to the City as a living, breathing entity; one that not only interacts with the story’s major players, but exhibits the same range of depth, nuance, and personality as its narrative counterparts. Serving as the personification of identity and the ongoing process of discovering and maintaining it, the City acts as a mirror for its inhabitants; forcing them to confront who they truly are and deepen their emotional understanding with each new perspective it presents. With this symbolic motif, Morrison aims to suggest that in the same way one cannot separate themselves from their identity, those who live in this City—one that is “There to back and frame you no matter what you do” —are inextricably linked to it from the moment they become residents (Morrison 9). Using one’s arrival in the city to symbolize a catalyst for the formation of one’s identity, Morrison depicts the inner calling for self-discovery that all people experience through her characters’ calling to the allure of city life. Using the City’s own narrative voice to demonstrate the magnitude of its draw, Morrison explains how whether this migration occurs “on a whim” or “after much planning” matters not; for “however they came, when or why, the minute the leather of their soles hit the pavement—there was no turning around” —as there is no one who can resist the hypnotic temptation of the city’s soot and splendor (Morrison 32). Elaborating on the transformation this City ignites in its new arrivals, she describes how, “The minute they arrive at the train station or get off the ferry and glimpse the wise streets and the wasteful lamps lighting them, they know they are born for it;” likening this migration to a kind of personal and cultural awakening, Morrison signifies a conceptual rebirth for Joe, Violet, and all who come to the City searching for answers (Morrison 32).

Expanding this metaphor into the framework for her characters’ evolution, Morrison continues to employ the voice of the City as a representation of the inner voice that resides in the minds of Joe and Violet, as well as the world at large as they grow into individuals. Drawing direct parallels between one’s learning to survive in the City to one’s personal development of identity, Morrison uses this voice to suggest that the same mental prowess and discernment are required for each action; declaring how, in the City, “You have to be clever to figure out how to be welcoming and defensive at the same time. When to love something and when to quit” (Morrison 9). And as these characters become familiarized with the physical layout of the City, we see a direct parallel to their familiarization with the emotional, intangible layouts of their own identities. Comparing the struggles of assimilation into an unfamiliar territory with the arduous process of navigating one’s own mental roadmap, the City cautions; “Nobody says it’s pretty here; nobody says it’s easy either. What it is is decisive, and if you pay attention to the street plans, all laid out, the City can’t hurt you” (Morrison 8). Here, Morrison creates a deep and intricate metaphor between the ability to evade potential danger with a vigilance to literal street signs, and the ability to spare oneself emotional anguish with an awareness of figurative warning signs. But while for Joe and Violet this task is much easier said than done, the voice of the City declares that “All you have to do is heed the design…mindful of where you want to go and what you may need tomorrow,” in order to safely roam the streets of the cognitive grid (Morrison 9).

Despite its words of warning, the voice of the City does not disparage itself, but instead pays homage to its bittersweet beauty and the power of its ability to change. Perhaps the most meaningful metaphor that this narrative voice presents to the reader is that of the City’s limitless potential to move its inhabitants forward; helping them to open their eyes and create a life-- an identity-- that is true and meaningful. Describing the air of promise that the bustling City creates (even in the face of “all sorts of ignorance and criminality”), Morrison compares its ability to inspire hope in spite of obstacles to the resilience of the search for identity: “A city like this one makes me dream tall and feel in on things…When I look over [the buildings] …I’m strong. Alone, yes, but top-notch and indestructible” (Morrison 7). Continually building on the presence and impact of the city throughout the story, not only does Morrison create a palpable sense of the City’s significance for her characters and their lives, but truly convinces the reader of the City’s capacity to not only shape its inhabitants’ daily circumstances, but reconfigure their personal perspectives, and mold their sense of identity into one that is bold, confident, and fulfilled. The voice of the City explains: “There, in a city, they are not so much new as themselves: their stronger, riskier selves…They feel more like themselves, more like the people they always believed they were,” and thus, the construction of the self goes hand in hand with the construction of sky-scraping towers—from the rooves of which these new, New Yorkers can rid themselves of the past and look up at the City sky (Morrison 35). Coupling this altitudinal elevation with the elevation of self, those who look up into the City sky are able to “forget pebbly creeks” of their pasts in the country and see things clearly for the first time, because “There is nothing to beat what the City can make of a night sky. It can empty itself of surface, and more like the ocean than the ocean itself, go deep, starless,” (Morrison 35). Morrison uses this descriptive, yet somewhat mystical, metaphor to indicate how the City—with the bright light of its “thrilling, wasteful street lamps” —strips away the light of past stars that delude one’s sense of self, to leave in its place a truer, clearer, and deeper sense of identity.

While the City may be a beacon of hope, lust, creativity, crime, and freedom, Morrison makes clear that even the City itself is made up of individuals, and it is the choices of these individuals that make up their identity. By using the City as the narrative voice for expressing these sentiments, Morrison creates a towering, all-encompassing experience for the reader, in which they can imagine themselves not only as mighty and looming as the City buildings, but also as a part of the larger whole—a single brick in the many millions that rise to reach the sky.