More on Freedom and "Slavery" in Kazin

"In every cry of every man,

In every infant's cry of fear,

In every voice, in every ban,

The mind-forg'd manacles I hear."

-William Blake: London

This is the epigram that appears at the beginning of Kazin's autobiography. I don't think literary critics pay close enough attention to authors' uses of epigrams. I know exactly what kind of mental journey I am going to go on in Kazin's autobiography just by reading the epigram above. I already know a theme: the opposition between being enslaved and being free. Of course, in Kazin's case, he is not literally enslaved like our dear friend, Frederick. Kazin is enslaved by the idea that he does not know who he really is, and he has lost connections with what it means to be Jewish. America has done what it does best, Americanized another family of immigrants. That is why Kazin describes his feelings of lonliness. He is wearing the "mind-forg'd manacles" of misidentity (yup, I think I made up another word).

The epigram also relates directly to Alfred's conversation with Mrs. Solovey that I dissected in full detail in my previous entry. The "mind forg'd manacles" that Mrs. Solovey hears are the English words spoken every day by every one around her. These words are often spoken by immigrants just like her, immigrants who should stay attached to their native languages and values.

I always loved speaking French...

First of all, it made me quite pleased that I could understand most of the French that was utilized by Kazin in the third chapter of A Walker in the City. It definitely brought me back to my high school days when I was struggling so hard to learn that darn language. I took five consecutive years of French, and I was willing to bet that I would not remember any of it come college. Apparently, I have been proven wrong. I thought that a particularly poignant passage in the text included Mrs. Solovey's feelings on speaking a second language:

"Do you not think it is tiresome to speak the same language all the time? Their language! To feel that you are in a kind of prison, where the words you speak every day are like the walls of your cell? To know with every word that you are the same, and no other, and that it is difficult to escape? But when I speak French to you I have the sensation that for a moment I have left, and I am happy" (Page 127).

Talk about deep! I really love the way this passage sounds, and I enjoy reading it out loud, because I feel like so much feeling can be conveyed in just a few short sentences. There are few conversations that take place in Kazin's autobiography, so this one between Alfred and Mrs. Solovey must mean something. Obviously, Mrs. Solovey, Alfred's "Anna," is making a statement on the English language. She feels as if she has assimilated too much into American culture. She has lost her sense of identity and feels lonely because of it. She literally believes that every times she opens her mouth to speak, she has lost a piece of herself, because English is not her native language. Speaking French frees her from "the prison," in a way, because not all Americans can speak that language. Not all Americans can understand it. She feels happy, because she has something in her possession (the ability to speak another language) that not all English-speaking Americans have.

I wonder if she feels this same sense of freedom when she speaks Hebrew...