In its romantic aspect, Plum Bun is a lumpy little package with a very pretty bow. Everything fits, but after you have opened the package and taken out the gift, it is impossible to restore the contents just so; they now rise above the rim; the lid atop, askew, will fall off at the slightest bump or cough or sneeze. Let me fix that for you, someone near might say, but you will not want it fixed, because you love the clumsy arrangement just as it is, and in your warm, sentimental, juvenile, hopeful curiosity, you already want to see the gift again. You hold it up to the light, and upon closer examination see how the flesh of its spirit and the spirit of its flesh are intricately bound to deep, abiding moral and societal concerns. The bow is a novel; the box is the country in which you live; the gift is another chance to live and learn, and to better grasp the foolishness and sorrow this nation still endures.
November 4, 2020
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Categories: New Poems & Pieces
Tags: Diaries, Flesh and Spirit, Jessie Redmon Fauset, Journals, Library of America, Love, Plum Bun, Reading, Romance, The Harlem Renaissance