Plum Bun: A Novel Without a Moral

From the very beginning of the novel, Angela’s rallying cry is “freedom!”: “That was the note which Angela heard oftenest in the melody of living which was to be hers” (13). The word, with its exclamatory emphasis, recurs with frequency. Angela’s early experiences passing with her mother introduce her to what she thinks is “a larger, freer world” (57). The ability to escape her race lifts the melancholy that often burdens her: “As a result of even this slight satisfaction of her cravings, she was indulging less and less in brooding and introspection, although at no time was she able to adapt herself to living with the complete spontaneity so characteristic of Jinny” (57). In this juxtaposition of the sisters, we see that for Angela, nothing less than total freedom from limitations will do, while Jinny adapts to circumstances and, in the process, maintains her free spirit. Angela’s vision of freedom is elusive not merely because of the color of her skin or her gender, but because complete freedom is unattainable. Even Roger, the white wealthy male, is beholden to the expectations of his father and the mores of his particular social class.

This is not to downplay the very real fact that Angela’s race and gender limit her in significant—and unjust—ways. While the book grapples only tangentially with the life-threatening realities of what it meant to be Black in America in the early 20th century, the specter of violence hovers through Anthony’s story and his father’s lynching. In focusing on Angela’s more comfortable middle-class background, the author can explore how race defines even those Blacks who have attained some degree of financial and social security. Even Angela’s father suffers an early death links directly to his race: Barred from entering the whites-only hospital where his wife his ill, Junius catches pneumonia and dies as a result. For all his achievements—owning a home, holding a decent job, buying a car—Junius is not free from the depredations of racism.

Angela’s desire for freedom is at once extraordinarily complicated and deeply naïve. Angela perceives herself to be free while passing as white, benefitting from better professional and personal opportunities and from Roger’s material largess; however, she is burdened constantly by the anxiety of being found out, not to mention the crushing weight of the constant racism she endures and witnesses. Angela is not free—living inauthentically is the very opposite of liberation.

So, what does it mean to be free? Angela wishes to be free from her background, free from the stultifying sameness of the suburbs, free from limitations—particularly those of race, but also those of gender. Yet, there is a difference in “freedom from” versus “freedom to”: In her youthful immaturity, Angela wants to be free from the constraining injustice of being Black, so she casts off her identity and her family; she is free from them—but only provisionally, circumstantially. In her dawning maturity, though, she finally recognizes that freedom to reclaim her own identity and to live her life honestly and on her own terms, even within the limitations of being a Black woman, is the greatest hope for freedom she has. It is notable that the cry of “freedom!” is absent from the final section of the novel.