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low murmur of winds in fig trees”—invite us to read her as a stand-in for the South. But Tom, Bob, and the townspeople are all similarly situated: Tom, the cane cutter, rooted to the soil by his dream of farming his own land; Bob Stone, son of the former plantation owner, through the imagery suggested by his name; the “white men like ants upon a forage” as they rush to prepare the lynching. All of the characters have some connection, a natural or, at least, proprietary claim, to this land. Allegorically, the battle between Bob and Tom in the canefield becomes a battle between representatives of blacks and whites, workers and bosses, the agricul- tural past and the industrialized future, for who gets to claim the South. The imagery of the story, however, confounds any possibility of a clear victory in that battle. For Toomer, black and white, master and slave, human and
earth, past, present, and future are too inextricably linked to allow for the survival or destruc- tion of one without the other. Repetition of the word “jumble,” and the jumbling of images initially associated with one character, reinforces the point. Bob and Tom “jumbled when eyes gazed vacantly at the rising moon. And from the jumble came the stir that was strangely within her.” Neither man wins, and at the end of the story, after Tom kills Bob and is in turn lynched, the description of Tom’s “stony” eyes and “head, erect, lean, like blackened stone” suggests his merging with his nemesis, Bob Stone. Stone, then, is Bob’s name, an indicator of his whiteness, the set of Tom’s eyes as he is lynched, and the color of the flesh of each. The “jumbling” that is
the relation of black and white is evident as well in the description of the crowd and the environment in relation to the word “stone” when “the mob’s yell echoe against the skeleton stone walls” of the factory before which Tom is lynched and burned. The technique of layering an image to suggest the inseparability of all in the South and the inevitable tragedy of attempts at segre- gation and division is a hallmark of Cane. The color purple is similarly significant. It is the color of Louisa’s desired dress, promised to her by Tom, as well as of the clouds at dusk, and of Bob Stone’s flushed cheeks when he contemplates the loss of white supremacy. The color purple appears throughout Cane to apply equally to
poem and the commingled images of terror and beauty expressed in part through the emphasis on the color purple and the sweet scent of cane, a reference to the crop worked by enslaved people, link the poem to “Blood Burning Moon,” the story that follows it. The story, which takes up, revises, and extends this representation of lynching, complicates its usual justification, which scapegoats the black man as predator and threat, by positing a black woman rather than a white woman as object of desire and contestation. Both Bob Stone, the scion of the former slaveholders, and Tom Burwell, the descendant of the enslaved people who worked the land, want Louisa. Bob feels shame that he has to woo her, a sign of the change from the past, when she would have been his by right; Tom loves her, but as a fieldworker, he cannot be sure that he can claim a right to her. Metaphors linking Louisa to the landscape—“Her skin was the color of oak leaves . . . her breasts . . . like ripe acorns . . . her sing- ing had the
