Discovering Alice Walker

This evening, I closed Alice Walker’s By The Light of My Father’s Smile with a feeling of deep satisfaction and regret. It’s been a long time since I had read writing that glowed on the pages. Walker’s book did more than that. It positively sparkled!

By The Light of My Father’s Smile is about a father who watches his two daughters blossom and discover their true selves through their sexuality. If you’re a prude, be forewarned that a good number of pages are filled with detailed descriptions of lovemaking. And if you skip them, you will miss out on being fully embraced by this story. But don't fret, Walker’s bedroom scenes are more like rhapsodies than romps. Her descriptions are bold and blush-provoking, but never trashy or revolting.

The story begins with an atheist couple, who are actually anthropologists, who have conned a church into funding their studies of the Mundo tribe living in the remote sierras of Mexico. The father masquerades as a minister, preaching about a God he doesn’t believe in, the mother plays along and their two daughters are brought up on a medley of ancient and modern beliefs. One daughter’s life is destined to forever be entwined with the Mundo tribe and since I find folklore and pagan beliefs incredibly romantic, this was another part of the book’s appeal.

Storyline aside, the writing was pure and unpretentious, and the words carefully chosen to perfectly harmonise with each other. Walker springs surprises at the most unexpected moments, eliciting the occasional ‘Oh!’ from you. Then there are the bits that make you lower the book and stare into space, absorbing them. I suppose the only drawback (if you can even call it that) is that each chapter begins from a different person’s point of view and it’s up to you to figure out whose eyes you’re looking through. But once you get past chapter five, you kinda’ get the hang of it. She also does away with punctuation rules during dialogues, which make the writing sound and look freer.

Here are some of the gems that shone the brightest for me:

Sighing, Irene said, Why is it that we can love so much that which only makes us cry?
Susannah thought only for a moment, and then, with certainty, she said: Because it is that which calls us home to the heart.

(The preceding paragraph was about two lovers who had found each other again and rekindled their love)
As we were leaving the restaurant, Manuelito, singing drunkenly, and turning towards me and then swinging his arms up as though to embrace the rising bright moon, was hit by a bus. The bus dragged him for half a block. By the time I got to him, he was gone.

After being made love to by Pauline, you didn’t say as the hot Christian ladies do, Amen; no, you said what the wild Indians say after a powerful prayer: Ho!

When you see that people are so poor it’s hard to believe they know what they’re doing.

Mrs. Robinson, said my youthful doctor, the important thing is that you must lose weight.
But my memories are so heavy, doctor, I said.

The only way to solace anyone who loved you in life is to be a good memory. (On the people you leave behind in death)