Their Eyes Were Watching God, an American classic, is the luminous and haunting novel about Janie Crawford, a Southern Black woman in the 1930s, whose journey from a free-spirited girl to a woman of independence and substance has inspired writers and readers for close to 70 years.
This poetic, graceful love story, rooted in Black folk traditions and steeped in mythic realism, celebrates boldly and brilliantly African-American culture and heritage. And in a powerful, mesmerizing narrative, it pays quiet tribute to a Black woman who, though constricted by the times, still demanded to be heard.
Originally published in 1937 and long out of print, the book was reissued in 1975 and nearly three decades later Their Eyes Were Watching God is considered a seminal novel in American fiction.
Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board. For some they come
in with the tide. For others they sail forever on the horizon, never out
of sight, never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in
resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of
Now, women forget all those things they don't want to remember, and
remember everything they don't want to forget. The dream is the truth.
Then they act and do things accordingly.
So the beginning of this was a woman and she had come back from burying
the dead. Not the dead of sick and ailing with friends at the pillow and
the feet. She had come back from the sodden and the bloated; the sudden
dead, their eyes flung wide open in judgment.
The people all saw her come because it was sundown. The sun was gone,
but he had left his footprints in the sky. It was the time for sitting
on porches beside the road. It was the time to hear things and talk.
These sitters had been tongueless, earless, eyeless conveniences all day
long. Mules and other brutes had occupied their skins. But now, the sun
and the bossman were gone, so the skins felt powerful and human. They
became lords of sounds and lesser things. They passed nations through
their mouths. They sat in judgment.
Seeing the woman as she was made them remember the envy they had stored
up from other times. So they chewed up the back parts of their minds and
swallowed with relish. They made burning statements with questions, and
killing tools out of laughs. It was mass cruelty. A mood come alive,
Words walking without masters; walking altogether like harmony in a
"What she doin coming back here in dem overhalls? Can't she find no
dress to put on? -- Where's dat blue satin dress she left here in? --
Where all dat money her husband took and died and left her? -- What dat
ole forty year ole 'oman doin' wid her hair swingin' down her back lak
some young gal? Where she left dat young lad of a boy she went off here
wid? -- Thought she was going to marry? -- Where he left her? -- What he
done wid all her money? -- Betcha he off wid some gal so young she ain't
even got no hairs -- why she don't stay in her class?"
When she got to where they were she turned her face on the bander log
and spoke. They scrambled a noisy "good evenin'" and left their mouths
setting open and their ears full of hope. Her speech was pleasant
enough, but she kept walking straight on to her gate. The porch couldn't
talk for looking.
The men noticed her firm buttocks like she had grape fruits in her hip
pockets; the great rope of black hair swinging to her waist and
unraveling in the wind like a plume; then her pugnacious breasts trying
to b ore holes in her shirt. They, the men, were saving with the mind
what they lost with the eye. The women took the faded shirt and muddy
overalls and laid them away for remembrance. It was a weapon against her
strength and if it turned out of no significance, still it was a hope
that she might fall to their level some day.
But nobody moved, nobody spoke, nobody even thought to swallow spit
until after her gate slammed behind her.
Pearl Stone opened her mouth and laughed real hard because she didn't
know what else to do. She fell all over Mrs. Sumpkins while she laughed.
Mrs. Sumpkins snorted violently and sucked her teeth.
"Humph! Y'all let her worry yuh. You ain't like me. Ah ain't got her to
study 'bout. If she ain't got manners enough to stop and let folks know
how she been malkin' out, let her g'wan! "
"She ain't even worth talkin' after," Lulu Moss drawled through her
nose. "She sits high, but she looks low. Dat's what Ah say 'bout dese
ole women runnin' after young boys."
Pheoby Watson hitched her rocking chair forward before she spoke. "Well,
nobody don't know if it's anything to tell or not. Me, Ah'm her best
friend, and Ah don't know."
"Maybe us don't know into things lak, you do, but we all know how she
went 'way from here and us sho seen her come back. 'Tain't no use in
your tryin' to cloak no ole woman lak Janie Starks, Pheoby, friend or no
"At dat she ain't so ole as some of y'all dat's talking."
"She's way past forty to my knowledge, Pheoby."
"No more'n forty at de outside."
"She's 'way too old for a boy like Tea Cake."
"Tea Cake ain't been no boy for some time. He's round thirty his
"Don't keer what it was, she could stop and say a few words with us. She
act like we done done something to her," Pearl Stone complained. "She de
one been doin' wrong."
"You mean, you mad 'cause she didn't stop and tell us all her business;
Anyhow, what you ever know her to do so bad as y'all make out? The worst
thing Ah ever knowedher to do was taking a few years offa her age and
dat ain't never harmed nobody. Y'all makes me tired. De way you talkin'
you'd think de folks in dis town didn't do nothin' in de bed 'cept
praise de Lawd. You have to 'scuse me, 'cause Ah'm bound to go take her
some supper." Pheoby stood up sharply.
"Don't mind us," Lulu smiled, "just go right ahead, us can mind yo'
house for you till you git back. Mah supper is done. You bettah go see
how she feel. You kin let de rest of us know."
Excerpted from "Their Eyes Were Watching God" by Zora Neale Hurston. Copyright © 2006 by Zora Neale Hurston. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.