In the all-black town of Eatonville, Florida, Zora Neale Hurston's mother used to tell her to "jump at de sun." She wanted Zora to be proud of herself and to do great things. Zora took her mother's words to heart. But when Zora was thirteen, her mother died. From then on, Zora wandered from job to job and school to school, always just squeaking by. Eventually, as a contributor to the Harlem Renaissance and as an anthropologist, Zora began writing and collecting the kinds of African-American tales she had heard as a child in Eatonville. Zora sparked a revolution in American thought. Her works urged African Americans to be proud of their background and to stop trying to be white. Zora's stories, plays, and folktale collections have won ongoing acclaim because of their power, vitality, and beauty. In Jump at de Sun, A.P. Porter takes readers on the lonely and exciting road that brought Zora from Eatonville to a place in history.
This makes for a nice introduction to who Zora was and what made her tick. She certainly was not a shrinking violet. In a time when it was almost unheard of, Zora, a double minority in the US, was opinionated, stubborn, and extremely independent. Zora was not at all liked by her father, and when he remarries after her mom's death, the step-mother makes it her business to drive each of the Hurston children away from their childhood home. With the help of friends and colleagues she meets along the way, Zora goes to school and becomes the first African-American woman to graduate from Barnard. Her experiences in her anthropological studies of African folklore inspires her to write stories of her own. Some are well received, others are not. Those that are published are edited in a way so as to not offend the white reader, causing black readers to get angry at Zora for not fully detailing the African-American experience, struggles, and anger.
What was really sad for me to discover is that despite breaking so many barriers for the African-Americans and for the women of the U.S., Zora pretty much died a destitute woman. She never gained a lot of wealth and never settled enough to find peace and stability. But she did not go out without a good fight, or without throwing some good knocks of her own!
This makes for a nice introduction to who Zora was and what made her tick. She certainly was not a shrinking violet. In a time when it was almost unheard of, Zora, a double minority in the US, was opinionated, stubborn, and extremely independent. Zora was not at all liked by her father, and when he remarries after her mom's death, the step-mother makes it her business to drive each of the Hurston children away from their childhood home. With the help of friends and colleagues she meets along the way, Zora goes to school and becomes the first African-American woman to graduate from Barnard. Her experiences in her anthropological studies of African folklore inspires her to write stories of her own. Some are well received, others are not. Those that are published are edited in a way so as to not offend the white reader, causing black readers to get angry at Zora for not fully detailing the African-American experience, struggles, and anger.
What was really sad for me to discover is that despite breaking so many barriers for the African-Americans and for the women of the U.S., Zora pretty much died a destitute woman. She never gained a lot of wealth and never settled enough to find peace and stability. But she did not go out without a good fight, or without throwing some good knocks of her own!
I read this book in 2010 and I thought about the book recently because we are reading a book by the same author Zora Neale Hurston. I like this book because I could relate to the story in my everyday life. I have been told that you should reach for the stars and that you can do and be anybody that you want to be which is what Zora's parents told her.
This book made me want to learn more about Zora Neale Hurston, but only because I was dissatisfied with this one. I prefer biographical information to be presented clearly, and this one was more style than substance. It reads like an odd novel. The photos were well chosen.