weaving of past and present events in an ever-widening circle, with the past juxtaposed on the present. Morrisons technique is deliberate, for the issues that she is addressing are too horrific. Similar to how Sethe explains Beloveds murder to Paul D, Morrison too circles around the subject. She never directly acknowledges her actions as murder. Sethes blindness is such that she displays her love by mercifully sparing her daughter from a horrific life. Yet at the same time Sethe refuses to acknowledge that her show of mercy is also murder. Sethe knew that the circle she was making around the room, him, the subject, would remain one. That she could never close in, pin it down for anybody who had to ask. If they didnt get it right off- she could never explain. Because the truth was simple, not long-drawn-out record of flowered shifts, tree cages, selfishness, ankle ropes and wells. Simple: she was squatting in the garden and when she saw them coming and recognized schoolteachers hat, she heard wings. Little hummingbirds stuck their needle beaks right through her headcloth into her hair and beat their wings. And if she though anything it was No. No. Nono. Nonono. Simple. She just flew. Collected every bit of life she had made, all the parts of her that were precious and fine and beautiful, and carried, pushed, dragged them through the veil, out, away over where no one could hurt them. Over there. Outside this place, where they would be safe. (163) Morrison, in the same fashion, spirals into the story. She brings the reader from being that of an outsider to an insider to the events. She slowly draws the reader in by giving bits and pieces of the entire picture. Reading this novel, one comes away with a sense that the past, as well as the people, never dies. The past, present, and future all exist together. The characters stories are not forgotten, nor the sixty million or more people that were victims of the bonds of slavery. Yet, to resurr...
