Narration Takes On More Than One Face in Toni Morrison's Jazz

Word Count: 1112

The narration in the first section of Jazz becomes more complicated as the story progresses. It’s certain that Morrison incorporates first person and third person omniscient narration; however; the first person narrator is Violet and the third person omniscient is solely an unknown presence who’s more subjective than traditional third person omniscient narration. The fusion of two types of narration floods the reader with  subjective and objective information,  illustrating the characters and events in a more versatile manner. Thus far in the novel, the main narrator, (the unknown third person presence) pays special attention to each characters’ efforts to acquire love that is fulfilling enough to feel alive or fill a void, a crucial and recurring theme in the novel.  

 First person narration is noteworthy because Violet occasionally takes the mic, exposing her internal conflicts, transforming feelings toward the city, and feelings about Joe. In the very beginning, Violet is the narrator because she lengthily describes several aspects of the City and expresses her love for it. This may not be known at the moment, but as soon as Joe and Violet’s origin story is told, it’s confirmed that “they stared out the windows for first sight of the City that danced with them, proving already how much it loved them. Like a million more they could hardly wait to get there and love it back” (32). Although Violet’s initial feelings may have been love and excitement for the City, she ironically illustrates how “unbelievable” the city sky is and explains that it “presses and retreats, presses and retreats, making [her] think of the free but illegal love of sweethearts before they are discovered”, (35) referring to her husband, Joe, who was unfaithful to her. She then describes a rather unpleasant depiction of the sky with money that is “soaked and salty”, aeroplanes “nose down in the muck”, flowers “that eat water beetles”, and “children who made a mistake in the parents they chose” (35). The City is no longer as beautiful and hopeful to Violet as it once was when she was madly in love with Joe; now, it is quite the opposite. Without Violet taking the mic as a first person narrator, the audience would not understand why the City’s descriptions begin to conflict. 

 Because of her complicated marriage with Joe, Violet admits in the beginning of the novel that she doesn't know “when to love something and when to quit” (9), establishing her biggest confliction. Her voice surfaces again when she sympathizes for Dorcas: “By the time she was seventeen her whole life was unbearable. And when I think about it, I know just how she felt” (63). Violet met/fell in love with Joe when she was seventeen, the beginning of a profound heart-break, which is why she feels than she can understand Dorca’s pain. 

The third person omniscient presence is fueled by one narrator only. Interestingly enough, the third person omniscient presence is not conventionally objective, but subjective as well. The presence is unknown at this point in the novel, but s/he attempts to understand situations from everyone’s perspective, resulting in sympathy, pity, or scorn depending on the character being addressed. S/he is especially sympathetic towards women because s/he acknowledges that “[women] are busy and thinking of ways to be busier because such a space for nothing pressing to do would knock them down [and]... in slips a sorrow they don’t know where from” (16). The presence expresses empathy for Violet because s/he justifies her kidnapping by revealing “comfort settled itself in her stomach and a king of skipping, running light traveled her veins” (19). The narrator understand Violet’s attempt at kidnapping  because she needs a child to make her feel alive, something her husband has failed to do. S/he even justifies Violet’s questionable qualities by calling “them cracks because that is what they were. Not openings or breaks, but dark fissures in the globe light of the day” (22), defusing the gravity of the deeds Violet committed. Instead of depicting her as an insane woman, the narrator is able to descend to her level in order to understand the internal demons Violet faces.   

The narrator  holds a degree of sympathy for Joe as well; but, s/he still criticizes him for his actions. S/he acknowledges that Violet and Joe were “drawn together because they had been put together” and “he had not chosen [to get married] but was grateful [to]... escape all the redwings in the country and the ripe silence” (30); in other words, for Joe the marriage occurred out of convenience instead of love. In addition, Violet’s “silences annoy [Joe], then puzzle him, and finally depress him” (23); therefore, the narrator understands Joe’s need for Dorcas in order to have someone to talk to and fill the void Violet cannot. In fact, Dorcas “filled [the nothing] for him, just as he filled it for her, because she had it to” (38), except hers stemmed from a difficult childhood involving the tragic deaths of her mom and dad. Despite the narrator’s understanding of Joe’s motives to cheat on his wife , s/he still criticizes him for being unfaithful. Since Joe is one of the men who utilize Thursdays as a means to obtain “satisfaction pure and deep, for balance in pleasure and comfort” (52), the narrator throws shame on him for doing so and equates him to these sleazy, manipulative men. Furthermore, s/he recognizes that he “counted on flirty laughing women” (71) to sell them products and/or seduce them, exposing his manipulative disposition, especially since “he knew wrong wasn’t right, and did it anyway” (74).  

Although the narrator expresses sympathy and/or judgment for each character, s/he does not discriminate when it comes to how almost every character experiences heartbreak. Thus far, this is the one thing most of the characters have in common. Although Joe is unfaithful to Violet, the narrator understands that they are heart broken in their own way despite their follies in the relationship.  Dorcas is heart broken as well and feels that she has “decayed on the vine at budding time” because her body was deemed unworthy by boys. Same with her friend Neola who “closed her arm and held the pieces of her heart in her hand” (67). Even Alice, a seemingly prudish character, was left at the altar and “the pain of his refusal was visual, for over her heart, curled like a shell, was the hand on which he had positioned the ring” (62). By playing a mostly neutral role in the topic of heartbreak, the narrator highlights Morrison’s position that fulfilling, unconditional love is hard to find.