The Third Life of Grange Copeland

The Third Life of Grange Copeland

Alice Walker

Language: English

Pages: 328

ISBN: 0156028360

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Despondent over the futility of life in the South, black tenant farmer Grange Copeland leaves his wife and son in Georgia to head North. After meeting an equally humiliating existence there, he returns to Georgia, years later, to find his son, Brownfield, imprisoned for the murder of his wife. As the guardian of the couple's youngest daughter, Grange Copeland is looking at his third -- and final -- chance to free himself from spiritual and social enslavement.

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she said, stirring her pot. “The Lawd knows I loves them, but when they does grow up I hope they has sense enough to git away from round here.” “Well, I thank you kindly for that good breakfast.” “Aw, don’t mention it. ’N if you gets hongry runnin’ back the other way drop in again.” She gave him a grave, boastful, wry and conspiratorial smile. “I also hope you finds your daddy.” “Bye, you all,” he said, waving to the children, who stopped playing to stare at him. “Bye-bye! Bye-bye!” they

nigger woman!” For a woman like Mem, who had so barely escaped the “culture of poverty,” a slip back into that culture was the easiest thing in the world. First to please her husband, and then because she honestly could not recall her nouns and verbs, her plurals and singulars, Mem began speaking once more in her old dialect. The starch of her speech simply went out of her and what came out of her mouth sagged, just as what had come out of her ancestors sagged. Except that where their speech had

pushing out her still incredible bosom, “she’s his child and he wants her. It ain’t decent for just a old man like you to try to take care of a little girl.” She turned to Brownfield for support, but he, while staring at Ruth, seemed to lapse into a trance. His daughter shivered under his dull incredulous stare. She had never considered that as a big girl she might look more than a little like her mother. “I don’t know why they give you only seven years,” her grandfather said in a firm voice,

stop,” said Grange, “not as a group anyhow.” He lounged back in his chair and stuck a hand in his pocket. “Even if they could,” he said slowly, “it’d be too late. I look in my heart for forgiveness and it just ain’t there. The close as I can come to it is a kind of numbness where they concerned. So that I wouldn’t add kindling to a fire that was roasting them, but I wouldn’t hear ’em calling me neither.” Ruth chuckled. “That ain’t no feeling to be proud of,” Grange said sternlv, “not if you

see her self-sufficient, he was against her acting boyish. He grumbled when she spoke of cutting her hair, an unruly, rebellious cloud that weighted down her head. He insisted she trade her jeans for dresses, at least on weekends, and placed jars of Noxzema and Pond’s hand cream on her dresser. He became softer than Ruth had ever known him, reflectively puffing on his pipe for hours without saying a word. He spent evenings examining maps, wondering about the places in the world he would never

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