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Vision of Self in Katherine Paterson's Jacob Have I Loved
Set almost entirely on a fictional Chesapeake Bay island in the mid-to-late 1940s, Jacob Have I Loved chronicles one person's search forand acceptance of self. Although intended for an audience of young adultreaders, Katherine Paterson's portrayal of this personal journey is so realthat it has achieved universal appeal. The beauty of teaching this NewberyAward-winning classic, then, is that the work is as meaningful to teacher as itis to student, to forty-year old as it is to fourteen-year old.
Jacob Have I Loved takes its title from the Biblical story about Jacoband Esau, the twin sons of Isaac and Rebecca. The relationship between the sonsis one of jealousy bordering on violence. Esau, the first born, foolishly givesup his birthright out of physical hunger and later loses his rightful blessingas a result of the deceit of his mother and brother. Even God turns againstEsau. In Romans 9:13, God says, "Jacob I loved and Esau I hated." Thus Esau isan extremely bitter person who feels so victimized, so angry, that he isbelieved capable of murder. Jacob, afraid of his brother, leaves, only toreturn years later to a reconciliation with Esau, who has remained at homeassuming all of the responsibilities that would have been his anyway had hereceived the blessing he deserved.
In Jacob Have I Loved, the parallels to the Jacob-and-Esau story areclear. This is the story of Sara Louise Bradshaw and her twin sister, Caroline.Sara Louise, born first, is healthy and strong whereas Caroline is weak andnear death, thus becoming the focus of concern and attention from the start.
I was the elder by a few minutes. I always treasured the thought of thoseminutes. They represented the only time in my life when I was the center ofeveryone's attention. From the moment Caroline was born, she snatched it allfor herself. (Harper Trophy, 1990, p. 18)
I felt cold all over, as though I was the newborn infant a second time, castaside and forgotten. (p. 18)
The story always left the other twin, the stronger twin, washed and dressed andlying in a basket. Clean and cold and motherless. (p. 19)
These feelings of resentment, having had their inception at birth, continuethroughout Sara Louise's youth. She is in a futile situation as she strives todefine herself in terms of her sister. Even in their teenage years, Sara Louisefeels robbed, victimized, and completely unappreciated. Caroline, on the otherhand, with her operatic voice and golden good looks, is smiled on by all, and"Caroline is the kind of person other people sacrifice for as a matter ofcourse" (p. 25).
And sacrifice they do, not only Sara Louise and her parents, but also an islandfriend who gives Caroline money in order that she may leave the island andattend music school. Thus, Sara Louise, the "Esau figure," is left behind onthe island. Caroline's leaving is just as well, because, like the elder twin inthe Biblical story, Sara Louise finds herself entertaining thoughts of hersibling's death.
I often dreamed that Caroline was dead. Sometimes I would get word of her death-- the ferry had sunk with her and my mother aboard, or more often the taxi hadcrashed and her lovely body had been consumed in flames. And there were twofeelings in the dream -- a wild exultation that now I was free of her and . . .terrible guilt. I once dreamed that I had killed her with my own hands. I hadtaken the heavy pole with which I guided my skiff. She had come to the shore,begging for a ride. In reply I had raised the pole and beat, beat, beat. In thedream her mouth made the shape of screaming, but no sound came out. The onlysound of the dream was my own laughter. I woke up laughing, a strangeshuddering kind of laugh that turned at once into sobs. (pp. 74-75)
It is only with Caroline's departure from Rass Island that Sara Louise can evenbegin her search for self. That search must begin at home, for thus far in herlife she has seen herself in the role of sacrificer. Although bordering onmartyrdom, she does truly feel that her father Truitt, a fisherman, needs herhelp to make up for the absence of young men during this time of war. There ismore to her problem than her need to help her father, however. Sara Louise isalmost incapable of moving on towards another phase in her life. Indeed, hervision of herself at this point in her life is tied as inextricably to hervision of her surroundings as it is to her vision of Caroline as the favoredchild. The island of Rass has come to reflect the island that is her soul.Throughout the course of the novel, we see Sara Louise becoming more and moreisland-like in her relationship to those around her. Ironically, as shesacrifices for others, she withdraws from them. As she attempts to increasetheir need of her (thus gaining their attention), she more and more tries todeny her need of them. Needing them, she pushes them away, fortifying her wallsof defense. "I was a good oyster in those days. Not even the presence atChristmastime of a radiant, grown-up Caroline could get under my shell" (p.190).
Having spent a year with her father, Truitt, helping him support the family,Sara Louise, an Esau-hunter figure fishing the waters of the Chesapeake, isultimately liberated, not by her Isaac-like father but, rather, by herun-Rebecca-like mother, Susan. No woman of deceit, this mother shares with herdaughter her own youthful journey toward and realization of self, and, in sodoing, opens her daughter's eyes to her own choices and potential actions.
And, oh my blessed, she was right. All my dreams of leaving, but neath them Iwas afraid to go. I had clung to them, to Rass, yes, even to my grandmother,afraid that if I loosened my fingers an iota, I would find myself once morecold and clean in a forgotten basket.
"I chose the island," she said. "I chose to leave my own people and build alife for myself somewhere else. I certainly wouldn't deny you that same choice.But," and her eyes held me if her arms did not, "oh, Louise, we will miss you,your father and I."
I wanted so to believe her. "Will you really?" I asked. "As much as you missCaroline?"
"More," she said, reaching up and ever so lightly smoothing my hair with herfingertips.
I did not press her to explain. I was too grateful for that one word thatallowed me at last to leave the island and begin to build myself as a soul,separate from the long, long shadow of my twin. (pp. 227-228)
And so Sara Louise's journey toward enlightenment, toward an understanding ofothers and an understanding of self, truly begins. Before the novel ends, shehas gone through college, graduating as a nurse-midwife. In that capacity, shemoves to a poverty-stricken Appalachian mountain town, chosen because its nameis Truitt, the same as her father's. Never far from her past, she has movedfrom one island existence (Rass) to another (Truitt). Sara Louise herselfobserves that "A mountain-locked valley is more like an island than anythingelse I know" (p. 232). It is here in Truitt that she meets and marries herhusband and bears her son whom she names Truitt. Thus, as Paterson moves towardthe resolution of the Jacob-and-Esau conflict, she introduces the image of theHoly Trinity as a guiding factor in Sara Louise's life at this point.
As readers, we are certainly aware of her father as Truitt and her son asTruitt; but, if they are to be considered the first two parts of the Trinity,then the town of Truitt must be considered the last, that of the Holy Spirit.An examination of the concept of the Holy Spirit and the novel's final scenesexplains all. The Holy Spirit is that part of the Trinity that is active andenabling: it enables us to see; it causes change and it enlightens; it moves aperson from where she is to where she needs to be. The Holy Spirit isresponsible for knowledge and wisdom. And it is in the town of Truitt that SaraLouise is enlightened, able to see and finally understand self. It is here thatshe recognizes, becomes, and accepts self, something that could only happen asa result of understanding her own haunting birth.
Paterson develops this understanding by Sara Louise in the novel's finalchapter, in which she is called to help in the delivery of twins born to ayoung and impoverished woman named Essie. As the delivery begins, we arereminded of the story of the birth of Caroline and Sara Louise. Thecircumstances are parallel:
The first twin, a nearly six-pound boy, came fairly easily, despite Essie'sslender frame, but the second did not follow as I thought it should . . . .Before I even cut the cord, I put my mouth down and breathed into her tiny one.(p. 241)
And so in the case of her own birth, the healthier first-born is placed in abasket and given to the grandmother for safekeeping, seemingly forgotten. Theweaker of the two, the "Caroline twin," receives all of Sara Louise'sattention. Warming the baby by the kitchen oven door, Sara Louise is approachedby the babies' father who asks that the weak one be baptized in the event ofher death. Sara Louise consents, even though, "I wanted to be left in peace toguard my baby" (p. 242). (Note the use of the possessive pronoun.) She baptizesthe child Essie Susan, giving her an identity ". . . in the name of the Fatherand of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen" (p. 243). She then proceeds tofeed this Essie Susan, this Caroline, with her own breast milk. "I took my babyout of the oven and held her mouth to catch the milk, which began to flow ofits own accord" (p. 244).
Embodied in this weaker twin, then, are Caroline, the babies' mother (Susan),and Sara Louise (Essie-Esau) herself. Through the act of breathing life intothe child ("breath" being "spirit") and then feeding her, Sara Louise does whatshe has always done for Caroline: she takes part in her nurturing. Even more,however, she is also forgiving her mother. She does this by feeding the childas her mother fed Caroline, thus finally exhibiting an understanding of andacceptance of her mother's actions during that other delivery so many yearsbefore. Of course, most important of all, Sara Louise nourishes self, for theTrinity is complete. She has acquired knowledge and understanding of her ownbirth and, therefore, reborn, nurtures her new self, that self which not onlyhears but now can welcome the line of the hymn that Caroline had sung so manyyears before: "I wonder as I wander out under the sky . . ." (p. 244).
Jacob Have I Loved, like so many of Katherine Paterson's works, confirmsthe importance of the individual as set against the backdrop of all humanity.To her youthful audience, the author declares her belief in the one and in thewhole and, in so doing, reminds them of their role in the larger scheme ofthings. This novel is indeed a classic, and the beauty of it is that it's soreadable for and appropriate to the older junior-high student. At a time whenvision of self is all-important, ninth graders are relieved to discover thatmost of us take years to find self and to accept the self that we find, thatsuch acceptance is not an easy passage, and that, very often, the self we findis not the one we expected.
Patricia A. Liddie chairs the English Department at Council Rock Junior HighSchool-Newton in Newton, Pennsylvania.
