Self Discovery 

  In her widely acclaimed 1978 novel, Song of Solomon,  Toni Morrison bears witness to a society in which the fathers soared and the mothers told stories so that the children would know their names. Through Milkman Dead's extraordinary journey of awakening a clear expression of Morrison's belief that understanding self and past is always a project of community. Morrison's apprehension of the possible loss of the orature and cultural history of African Americans provides the impetus for much of this work.  She inspires her audience to explore their family roots to insure one’s individuality.          

Through her literature, Morrison deliberately works to counteract the loss of a folklore tradition that constitutes one of the basic elements of African American culture. This intentional examination of cultural myths in order to explain and broaden reality necessitates a distinctly Afrocentric literary approach. Morrison's style contains key elements of "African modes of storytelling" which provide "a way of bridging gaps between the Black community's folk roots, and the Black American literary tradition" (Wilentz 61). Throughout her writing, Toni Morrison suggests that "living with unexamined roots as much as living with no roots . . . creates a stunted and deformed tree" (Schultz 143) and she has clearly taken this lesson to heart in the creation of her own storytelling style.  She presents to the reader a protagonist named Milkman, as an upper class African American whose lifestyle mirrors society’s stereotype of an upper class white male.  He finds contentment within his lifestyle until he realizes the ignorance he posses in his own heredity. 

The vital importance of naming in African American culture is clearly illustrated throughout Song of Solomon; a name has the power to define and to possess that which it identifies. Several compelling examples of the significance that black tradition attaches to the process of naming can be found in the first pages of the book. Milkman is born at Mercy Hospital, called No Mercy by the African Americans who were previously denied admittance to its birthing wards, in a neighborhood referred to by residents as the Blood Bank "because blood flowed so freely there" (Morrison 32). After Doctor Foster, the first black doctor in the city, established his office on Mains Avenue the street was popularly renamed Doctor Street until the city declared the invalidity of that name as a mailing address. Following this official pronouncement, residents promptly changed the name to Not Doctor Street.

            Growing up as the only son of the most prominent black family in his home  town, Milkman never faces financial conflicts.  His father owns property and rents homes out to the poor black community.  “These rides that the family took on Sunday afternoons become rituals and much too important for Macon to enjoy.  For him it was a way to satisfy himself that he was indeed a successful man” (Morrison 31).  In a thought in itself the boy’s nickname, “Milkman” contains a white picture to it.  He is adopted into a “white” daily life by his very own parental figures.  In the middle of Morrison’s novel Milkman has an epiphany.  Frederick Douglass wants everyone to ask themselves, “What have I been?  What patterns have I woven between the moment of my birth and the days of my maturity to make my life distinct, unique, and meaningful?  Indeed, how did my ancestors write their memories for me?” (Woodtor 6).  As he is at the pub with the usual crowd, he begins to the need for, “making tracks out of the city, far from Not Doctor Street, and Sonny’s Shop, and Mary’s Place, and Hager, he could not visualize a life that much different from the one he had.  New people.  New places.  Command.  That was what he wanted in his life” (Morrison 180).  It is here that the audience begins to see Milkman exiting his very own ignorance.  Later he says, “ He just wanted to beat a path away from his parent’s past, which was also their present and which was threatening to become his present as well” (Morrison 182).  Sounds as if Milkman Dead begins to face a mirror that holds no reflection.  A man without a face, Milkman decides to venture into the past, his unfamiliar roots.  “How many of us can pass on a coherent story that tells of the trials, tribulations, and triumphs of our ancestors who “carried us over”? (Woodtor 13).   

            Pilate, Milkman’s Aunt, informs her nephew of the Dead family originating from Virgina. After a determined search, Milkman finally locates Shalimar through serendipitous chance when his seventy-five dollar used car breaks down in front of Solomon's General Store in the center of town. Here, as his journey expands and the layers of his family history begin to peel away, Milkman's money and possessions quickly become useless and "the family fortune ironically proves to be its past and its people, not its gold" (Schultz 137). 

            Returning to Shalimar, Milkman spends the night with a local woman, appropriately named Sweet. Unlike Milkman's many previous sexual encounters, his lovemaking with Sweet is unselfish and mutually fulfilling. For the first time, Milkman understands that giving love must be wedded to taking love. Later, in his dreams, Milkman flies "over the dark sea, but it didn't frighten him because he knew he could not fall. He was alone in the sky, but someone was applauding him, watching him and applauding" (Morrison 298). The unseen source of this applause may be the ghostly hands of his ancestors, with whom he is finally beginning to connect.

 After these enlightening experiences, alone in the woods and together with Sweet, Milkman begins to discover the names of his ancestors: his roots. The town's children sing a circle rhyme that tells the story of a flying African named Solomon; now Milkman realizes that this is the story of his family. Revealing the true source of Pilate's "Sugarman" blues song, the children repeat the plaintive words sung by Solomon's wife, Ryna, who died of sorrow after his Africa-bound departure:

O Solomon don't leave me here
Cotton balls to choke me
O Solomon don't leave me here
Buckra's arms to yoke me . . .
Solomon done fly, Solomon done gone
Solomon cut across the sky, Solomon gone home. (Morrison 303)

The rhyme's verses contain an oral history of Solomon's family, listing the names of the twenty-one children who were left behind when Solomon flew back to Africa. As Milkman memorizes his ancestors' names, he becomes "as excited as a child confronted with boxes and boxes of presents under the skirt of a Christmas tree" and "as eager and happy as he had ever been in his life" (304).

            Much of Milkman’s life is spent in an attempt to “fly solo” without human connections, without knowledge of the past, without true love.  Morrison’s blues song provides a vibrant analysis of the dangers of this way of living, which is capable of killing not only an individual but also a culture.  Seeking this freedom, Milkman takes flight as last, and Toni Morrison concludes that “you’ll never know who you are, you’ll never be a complete person, until you know and remember what Milkman had been knowing and remembering”  (Koenen 74).