Toni Morrison is not only a good storyteller, she excels at deconstructing the nexus of race, color, class, and identity. Moreover, in The Bluest Eye, Morrison thoroughly delves into how these elements can make us value (or devalue) ourselves and others, both at interpersonal and societal levels.

This introspection is most clearly exemplified with the character Pecola. She is the daughter of poor parents, and her whole family is considered ugly in the eyes of her community. Pecola is painfully aware of how everyone in town looks down on her. She wants to be valued the way white, blonde, blue-eyed little girls are, and she longs to have the bluest eyes. When the young girl endures horrific trauma, she further internalizes her shame. This is not unlike her mother before her, which demonstrates the generational nature of this tragedy.

“Along with the idea of romantic love, she was introduced to another—physical beauty. Probably the most destructive ideas in the history of human thought. Both originated in envy, thrived in insecurity, and ended in disillusion. In equating physical beauty with virtue, she stripped her mind, bound it, and collected self-contempt by the heap” (121).

Much of this tale is told from the perspective of Claudia. In many ways Claudia is also an underdog being a young black girl growing up in post-Depression era Lorain, Ohio. She has to beware of bullies, including the popular and light skinned Maureen. Claudia does not consider herself especially exceptional, but she does have the support of a loving family and stable household.

All too often in life, especially in America where the construct of the rugged individual is so deeply ingrained in the national psyche, we tend to compare ourselves to those doing better than us. We are the underdogs of our own stories. And in the Bluest Eye I think the reader is supposed to identify with Claudia, I know I certainly did. She is what we would consider a typical underdog, protagonist to be. The kid has her struggles, but given her support system, she still has a sense of agency and self-assured identity, as shown with her rejection of the blue-eyed dolls.

Still, even those struggling to feel valued can themselves derive value (inwardly and outwardly) from those deemed valueless. Despite being one of the few in her community who sympathizes with Pecola and her plight, Claudia falls in line with society’s condemnation.

“We were so beautiful when we stood astride her ugliness. Her simplicity decorated us, her guilt sanctified us, her pain made us glow with health, her awkwardness made us think we had a sense of humor… We honed our egos on her, padded our characters with her frailty, and yawned in the fantasy of our strength” (205).

The tragedy is that while Claudia struggles, she is able to be an underdog because Pecola is a pariah. Claudia compares herself upwards, but still benefits from the same superficially derived superiority that she resents when imposed on her in turn. This narrative is dark, but I think an important self-reflection when making sense of trauma, identity, and the human condition.

Overall, this is an amazing book and I definitely recommend it. If you are interested in reading about similar themes in a modern context, I would also recommend Push by Sapphire, the book adapted into the Oscar nominated film Precious.