48 pages • 1 hour read
Gloria NaylorA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
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Cocoa, so nicknamed by her family for the color of her skin, is the granddaughter of Abigail Day and the grandniece of Miranda Day. She is 27 at the start of the novel and 32 by its end. A confident but sometimes stubborn woman, Cocoa is determined to establish herself as a working New York City professional; however, she is also deeply tied to her family history in Willow Springs. She often seems conflicted about these competing aspects of her identity. On the one hand, she contradicts George’s here-and-now philosophy when she thinks, “A person is made up of much more than the ‘now’” (213), which suggests that she embraces and appreciates her past. However, she often implies that she also wants to escape it.
Like Willow Springs, Cocoa occupies a state of liminality, of between-ness: she finds herself caught between her new world in New York and Willow Springs, and she struggles to navigate the vast differences in the two cities’ respective rituals (though she certainly does a better job of it than George). The reader can observe this through the way Cocoa’s dialect subtly changes depending on where she finds herself. In the interview with George, for example, she steers away from the colloquialisms that would characterize her as a woman from the South. In contrast, when she returns to Willow Springs, the Southerner in her comes out: “‘You know too much, Mama Day.’ Cocoa mimics her stand and winks. ‘That’s why I took you down a peg this afternoon’” (82). The fact that Cocoa can never completely abandon her southern traits underlines one of the novel’s central themes: home. As the narrator explains, “You can move away from [home], but you never leave it” (86). Try as she might to obscure or possibly even forget her history, Cocoa’s history remains a part of her.
More than any other character in the novel, however, Cocoa comes the closest to losing her identity, as Ruby’s poison afflicts her body and her mind. As Cocoa begins to hallucinate, she cannot even recognize herself in the mirror. Cocoa’s fear comes not just from the physical pain of the affliction but the mental agony of having her identity stripped away from her, of literally not being able to recognize herself. However, even through the mental anguish, Cocoa retains her past: she eventually recovers and never again forgets where she came from. This underscores the novel’s theme of permanence. Despite the immense physical and mental changes Cocoa goes through as she reels from the toxic effects of Ruby’s poison, the past endures as a permanent part of her identity.
George Andrews is the co-founder of the Andrews-Stein Engineering Company in New York City; he is 31 at the start of the novel and 35 by Part 2. Orphaned at a young age, George grew up at the Wallace P. Andrews Shelter for Boys on Staten Island, a facility run by the cruel and exacting Mrs. Jackson. Rational and pragmatic to a fault, George’s philosophy follows the repeated mantra of Mrs. Jackson: “Only the present has potential” (40). Preferring to stay focused on his “nows” (219), George finds little sense in dwelling on the past, which he cannot change. However, somewhat hypocritically, George gradually grows increasingly fascinated with Cocoa’s family history, to the point of obsession, and it becomes clear that he is jealous that he never had a rich history of his own.
Throughout the novel, George insists on applying logic and reason to every situation, even those seemingly supernatural occurrences in Willow Springs that he is unable to explain. Despite Cocoa’s insistence that “some things just couldn’t be boiled down to a formula that you could shove new elements into and have it all come out nice and neat” (244), George continues to rely on manmade tools to explain the supernatural, even when doing so repeatedly fails him. In this way, George has his own set of rituals that make him a foil to the “supernatural” characters of Willow Springs, especially Miranda. Whereas Miranda’s rituals involve herbs, natural remedies, and mysterious silver and yellow powders, George’s rituals involve graph paper, rulers, charts, and maps.
However, the novel does not necessarily critique George’s own “brand” of ritual but rather his reluctance to consider any alternatives, as this is what causes eventual death. Even Miranda admits that “there are two ways anybody can go when they come to certain roads in life—ain’t about a right way or a wrong way—just two ways” (485), suggesting that neither her nor his form of ritual is the “correct” way of going about things. George’s demise comes about because he remains unwilling to even entertain the possibility of the supernatural, which he finally calls “mumbo-jumbo” (486), even when it means saving his wife. Because he remains closed off to the supernatural power of Willow Springs and fails to evolve to fit his new surroundings, he never finds a place there and dies.
Despite Cocoa and George’s prominent roles in the novel, Miranda dominates the book’s action for several reasons. First, readers are immediately introduced to her as a larger-than-life character, a direct descendant of the mythical Sapphira Wade. As her relative, Miranda has inherited some of Sapphira’s alleged supernatural power, which she uses multiple times throughout the novel.
Miranda also serves as the novel’s most prominent foil to George. Miranda’s “hoodoo” rituals stand in stark contrast to George’s rational, empirical methods; she could serve as an example of how to adapt to and survive in Willow Springs, if only George would listen. Her brand of ritualism also functions as a counterpart to that of other characters, as well. For example, she dismisses Dr. Buzzard’s tricks and talks of “haints” as fraudulent, calling him an “out-and-out bootlegger and con man” (87). Her interaction with the town’s real doctor, Brian Smithfield, shows that she respects him as a fellow healer but remains partial to her own natural remedies. Finally, she functions as the benevolent counterpart to the evil Ruby, as Miranda tends to use her powers for good.
Miranda also frequently plays the role of resolver of conflict. She uses her powers to help Bernice Duvall (both when Bernice suffers the effects of the fertility pills and when she helps her conceive), to eliminate the “worms” from Carmen Rae’s afflicted baby, to exact retribution on Ruby, and to conduct the ritual that saves Cocoa’s life. She primarily uses her powers for good—especially healing—but the scene in which she sends George the letter coated with what seems to be a kind of aphrodisiac, along with the scene in which she sabotages Ruby’s home, casts her as a character not to be trifled with.
Although Miranda is one of the novel’s protagonists, she can also be manipulative and even destructive when she wants to be. She seems to agree with George’s philosophy that the past is immutable and therefore not worth worrying about, even when she finds herself unable to completely abandon it. Miranda is also somewhat inconsistent about when and how she applies her powers; for example, she clearly prefers not to interfere with what she considers the natural order of things. This is why she refuses to even try to do anything about Little Caesar’s death, despite that earlier in the novel, she was willing to play a role in the boy’s conception. So while Miranda might be Mama Day’s most powerful figure, her flaws remind readers that she is indeed human.
Bernice Duvall is Miranda’s neighbor and the lover of Ambush Duvall. Bernice falls gravely ill after taking some stolen fertility pills in an effort to get pregnant; she relies on Miranda’s home remedies to cure her. Concerned that the pills have permanently impaired her ability to get pregnant, she seeks out Miranda’s supernatural powers at the “other place.” Miranda’s “hoodoo” seems to have worked, as Bernice later gives birth to a son named Charles (also known as Little Caesar). Bernice’s good fortune is short-lived, however, as Little Caesar is killed in the hurricane that strikes Willow Springs a few years later. She once again seeks out Miranda’s help at the “other place” to try and rescue her son; however, Miranda considers death to be one thing that should not be interfered with, and she instructs Bernice to “go home and bury [her] child” (426).
Naylor uses Bernice, alongside George, as an ominous example of confirmation bias, a psychological phenomenon in which people see what they want to see and remain closed off to any alternatives. Miranda even tells Abigail that her magic will work because, as a sort of placebo effect, Bernice will believe what she wants to believe. On the other hand, Bernice convinces herself that Miranda has the power, as well as the willingness, to do something about her son’s death, but she is confronted with the harsh reality that there are some things even Miranda will not interfere with.
Ruby is Junior Lee’s lover and eventual wife, and she has her own reputation in Willow Springs as a wielder of supernatural powers. Suspected of “working roots” (159) on men to steal them away from their other love interests, she becomes a feared woman in the town and the novel’s primary antagonist. When Junior Lee comes onto Cocoa at the wedding party, Ruby invites Cocoa to her home under the pretense of wanting to atone for her husband’s behavior. Ruby uses that opportunity to braid poisonous substances into Cocoa’s hair, causing Cocoa to suffer debilitating sickness and hallucinations. Upon finding out about this, Miranda scatters an explosive powder around Ruby’s property, and when lightning strikes it, the house goes up in flames. Naylor characterizes Ruby as the evil, manipulative counterpart to Miranda, who—for the most part—uses her powers for good.
The novel repeatedly characterizes Ruby as a massive, imposing woman. She was “A mountain. Huge and still,” (263) and “Her huge legs were a fortress” (404). Ruby is something to be feared—a looming, foreboding presence in the novel—and the reader cannot help but feel that the tension between Miranda and Ruby will eventually come to a breaking point. Even Miranda feels it as she tells herself, “Ain’t no hoodoo anywhere as powerful as hate. Don’t make me tangle with you, Ruby” (263). Their conflict boils over when Ruby poisons Cocoa. Through Ruby’s downfall, Naylor argues that while people are only human, people with power have an obligation to use it for good.
Introduced to readers as a young slave girl “not without extreme mischief and suspicions of delving in witchcraft” (9), Sapphira Wade becomes the novel’s most ominous and mysterious figure. The novel’s Prologue explains that, according to Willow Springs folklore, Sapphira bore her owner, Bascombe Wade, seven sons, before mysteriously killing him and escaping execution, “laughing in a burst of flames” (10). Sapphira’s legacy carries so much import in Willow Springs that it is taboo for the locals to even mention her name, and even her fairly distant descendants—Miranda included—inherit some of her clout.
The legend of Sapphira Wade establishes Willow Springs as a place steeped in the supernatural and inseparably connected to its past. This sort of characterization of Willow Springs allows Naylor to set the town up as a foil to New York City, a metropolis defined by the rational and the present. New York personifies the same obsession with immediacy—the here-and-now—that characterizes and eventually dooms George. In the same way, Sapphira Wade, a “true conjure woman” (10), serves as the representative of Willow Springs, a place of magic and mystery.
Ruby’s eventual husband and all-around ne’er-do-well. He flirts with Cocoa at a dinner party, and when a jealous Ruby confronts him, he lies and says it was Cocoa who started the flirtation. It is Junior Lee’s actions—and his lie—that kicks off Miranda and Ruby’s climactic conflict.
By Gloria Naylor