Brilliant guide, Haley! In particular, I love what you’ve brought up about: physical spaces, the ‘economy of passing,’ and the etymology and meanings behind the word ‘encounter’
For those who are going to read my entire comment, I apologize, it’s very long but I have so many thoughts —
Because I knew how the book ended going into this reading, for a lot of the time while I was reading, I was looking for clues to the ending. I found so many; but I still don’t know if I have an answer as to what happens at the end.
In last week’s comments, I mentioned that I was paying attention to emotions, and in particular, Irene’s emotions — this, along with paying attention to the theme of power, unlocked a whole new reading for me.
Irene thinks herself the orchestra director. She wants to control everything around her, whether that is convincing her husband to stay in New York, sheltering her children from the world, or even coordinating a simple afternoon tea. But she can’t manage to control the most important thing: herself. She quickly loses control of her emotions and unravels at the slightest trigger throughout the book.
Though she tries to coordinate everything around her, oddly (and probably because of the strange hold that Clare has over her), whenever she plans to do something, she seems to back out at the last minute. She is either unable to do it, or she ends up doing the exact opposite (eg, trying to resist Clare’s invitations; or when she convinces herself to let slip Clare’s identity to Bellew but then doesn’t do it when she has the perfect opportunity to).
But on the other hand, she has no control over her emotions, and is quick to fly into a rage (picking a fight with Brian, ripping up Clare’s letters, breaking the teacup at that party towards the end). There seems to be a disconnect between the ‘logical’ and ‘emotional’ parts of her mind when it comes to her actions, and the emotional side usually wins.
So for most of the book, knowing the ending, I grew convinced that Irene pushed Clare out the window. She was so angry, so wont to act on irrational, sudden impulses, that she MUST have done it in a fit of anger.
But… as we get closer to the end, Irene starts to meditate on the idea of getting rid of Clare; first vaguely, then explicitly imagining her dead. And so seeds of doubt sprung up in my mind. If Irene were to stay true to character, then she would, at the last minute, do the exact OPPOSITE of what she had been planning - which, in this case, would mean that she didn’t push Clare out the window. So which is it?
When Irene plans a thing, at the last minute she often does the opposite. And when she is inspired by a sudden surge of emotion, she acts without thinking. So whether you think Irene killed Clare depends on whether you think she planned it, or acted in the spur of the moment - which is it?
There are so many instances of foreshadowing of the final scene — for example, part one begins with the arrival of a letter, and ends with Irene destroying it (the letter represents Clare’s arrival in Irene’s life, and so if you sub ‘Clare’ for ‘letter’ then this represents the beginning and end of the book: the arrival of Clare and her ultimate destruction). There is also a line in the last part about Irene watching a spark fly out the window from her cigarette and get snuffed out — this is most definitely referencing the end. And, that line about Irene not knowing how to get rid of the teacup until five minutes ago — either she is already subconsciously thinking of Clare, or this incident is what puts the idea into her head.
In this reading I also found myself paying more attention to Brian and Irene’s marriage, and as I did so, I started to notice, with more clarity, the cracks in their relationship. The last time I read the book, I thought the imagined relationship between Brian and Clare was all in Irene’s head, a result of her paranoia. But on this reading, I was convinced that they were actually having an affair.
A lot of the symbols I was using to annotate started to dwindle as the book went on - there simply weren’t as many discussions of society, desire, or appearances anymore, and so towards the end of the book I think the central conflict of the novel comes into sharper focus, as if zooming in to the two women.
I also found myself thinking of the idea of doubles, and Irene and Clare as versions of each other. This called me back to Rebecca - when I have more time, I want to think more on this idea, and the connections between different books that use doubles.
I also have SO many thoughts on the last line of the book, but I have already rambled on for long enough, so for those interested I’ll share two podcast episodes on The Novel Tea from last year about Passing, in which we talk about the last line, among other things (in one episode we compared Passing with The Vanishing Half, and in the other we talked more about Passing and the Netflix adaptation): https://thenovelteapod.substack.com/p/podcast
Alright, I might have more to say as I read everyone else’s comments but I’ll end here for now!!
This is so amazing Shruti! I love your analysis of Irene's state of mind and the question of whether or not she pushed Clare. What I am loving the most is the way that, no matter which way you stack the evidence, it's really difficult to know the true ending — to me, that signals just how profoundly smart Nella Larsen really is, as a writer. She leaves it possible to so many interpretations, while also giving us so many rich insights into passing, race, and fidelity. So, whether we "know" the truth about Irene or not, we still get so much value from reading the story. This feels particularly modernist to me!
And I'm so excited to share the deep dive — and thank you for sharing the links to your own deeper dives on the novel! I'm excited to dig into your episode about the last line!
Shruti, I'm just commenting on your thread to let you know that your comment has sparked some ideas that I want to add to my own further down--and to say that I absolutely read your entire comment, not long at all!
I did not see that coming. In retrospect I should have noted that Irene’s increasing suspicions, rage, and unravelling, culminating in her crashing the teacup at the earlier party all pointed to a dramatic finale. Those last few pages of the novel were so very cinematic, everything happens so fast, and the mood is so palpable. I got to the end and needed to start over from the beginning. We’ve seen everything from Irene’s perspective. She starts out uncomfortable, aloof, and irritated by little things. Meeting Clare just brings that all into fuller focus, and then escalates. What is Clare’s side of things? What is Brian’s? Was all that menace, malice, and scheming that Irene attributes to Clare real? Was there ever really anything happening between Clare and Brian? Is this whole telling of events by Irene just the version she has created to keep herself from facing what she “never afterwards allowed herself to remember”? I'm still not sure and wonder where do these characters go from here. I expected the propulsion of the plot to be the racial implication of passing. It is there, but overshadowed I think by the taut psychological study of Irene. We learn more of Irene’s “passing” than of Clare’s. Irene is passing as settled, safe, secure, even happy when she has built an illusion of all that by repressing anything she truly feels. Lots more ideas are percolating in my thoughts, and I’m looking forward to other’s comments to help me find structure for them.
So good, huh? The first time I read it, the last 3 pages blew my mind. I didn’t see it coming at all! I love your questions about how limited we are to Irene. What about Clare? What about Brian? How does being so close to Irene cloud our understanding of what happens?
I am really struggling with why so many people think Clare's death is ambiguous. To me, it's obvious that Irene pushed her, as otherwise the following passages don't make sense:
"If Clare was freed, anything might happen. . . . [S]he would do anything, risk anything, to prevent [Bellew] from finding out that truth [that Clare is black, prompting him to divorce her]."
"It was a smile that maddened Irene. She ran across the room, her terror tinged with ferocity, and laid a hand on Clare's bare arm. One thought possessed her. She couldn't have Clare Kendry cast aside by Bellew. She couldn't have her free."
"What would the others think? That Clare had fallen? That she had deliberately leaned backward? Certainly one or the other. Not - But she mustn’t, she warned herself, think of that. . . . could only put from her memory the vision of her hand on Clare's arm!"
"But there would be questions. She hadn't thought of them, of afterwards, of this. She had thought of nothing in that sudden moment of action."
"In the midst of her wondering and questioning came a thought so terrifying, so horrible, that she had had to grasp hold of the banister to save herself from pitching downwards.. . . What if Clare was not dead?"
And, when Felise confirms that Clare is dead, "Irene struggled against the sob of thankfulness that rose in her throat."
The thing that seals the deal for me is Irene's sudden panic at the thought "What if Clare was not dead?". I see potential for ambiguity, but in this my first read, I don't think I can be convinced of anything other than that Irene pushed her.
A couple of thoughts from the essays at the back of my Norton Critical Edition: First, Juanita Ellsworth says, "Surprising to most people is the fact that 'passing' often takes place accidentally. That is to say, a light-skinned Negro is surprised on occasion to find himself or herself accepted as a white person. If the new recognition is allowed to stand, economic opportunity and a new status result. The economic advantage that comes from 'passing' is great; it is sometimes the chief reason for deliberately seeking the transition from one race to another."
The reference to "a new status" made me think about how that has changed in our society, where victimhood or being the oppressed is now often considered a desirable or valuable status, as when Rachel Dolezal passed herself off as Black.
Second is this comment by Caleb Johnson, from his 1931 essay "Crossing the Color Line": "The 'passer's' Negro relatives and friends can be relied upon not to give the 'passer' away. Their attitude is that it is a good joke on the white folks; coupled with this there seems to be a sense of pride that one of their race has achieved the social equality denied to themselves."
But this clearly ISN'T Irene's attitude to Clare's passing, which she seems to consider as traitorous to Clare's true Black identity. In fact, this doesn't seem to reflect Nella Larsen's attitude either, as I don't recall a single Black character in Passing who thought Clare's passing to be a good thing. Part of me wonders whether the difference in attitudes expressed by Johnson and Irene are a function of class rather than race, i.e., whether lower-class Blacks found passing funny but higher-class Blacks like Irene and the members of the N.W.L. felt it to be an implicit criticism of their own Blackness.
One last comment. Irene (and by implication Nella Larsen) suggests that Blacks, but not whites, can accurately distinguish between the races: "Absurd! Impossible! White people were so stupid about such things for all that they usually asserted that they were able to tell; and by the most ridiculous means, finger-nails, palms of hands, shapes of ears, teeth, and other equally silly rot." The Norton Critical Edition drops a footnote here: "This question of whether or not there were visible, detectable signs of race - and of who could and could not read them - was central to debates over passing in the 1920s."
This immediately brought to my mind the distinction in Rwanda between the Hutus and the Tutsis. My understanding is that the distinction between these two groups was entirely artificial: that the Belgian colonizers divided a previously homogeneous Black population between those with broad noses (Hutus) and those with narrower, more European-looking noses (Tutsis), even when that distinction split members of biological families. These Blacks then so bought into the distinction after the Belgians' departure that the majority Hutus carried out a genocide against the minority Tutsis, members of their own race, by relying upon precisely the type of appearance-based "silly rot" Irene ridicules.
And where does all of this leave us now, when apparently one can choose to identify with whatever race suits them and where whites are frequently accused of misappropriating Black culture if they braid their hair or dress in a particular way, i.e., share some elements of physical appearance with the other race?
An interesting and potentially depressing rabbit hole to fall into is to dig into the anthropological studies in the 1800s trying to find biological markers in order to categorize (and rank) the "races". An exhibit at the Museum of Man in San Diego from several years ago piqued my interest. It was so obvious that the whole construct of race was tied to looking for evidence to support political and economic systems of oppression.
Ok I am here. I loved every minute of reading this! Particularly the beginning, where you reference Davis and the concept of 'elbow room' and using this to explore Clare encroaching on Irene's space(s). Irene is absolutely feeling suffocated by Clare, both emotionally and physically. What I found really interesting was how Clare represents the impossible to Irene. As in - by passing she has gained so many things Irene hasn't (and this is even more interesting bc it is insinuated that Irene could pass by Clare but has chosen not to. So it is v much how the other half life vibe, instead of Irene watching Clare create a life that wouldn't even be possible for her) With deceit and lies (for lack of a better phrase) 'playing the system' Clare has gained a huge economic and social benefit of passing. She has 'seen the other side' and still wants to come back to Irene's life which she, clearly, finds incredibly suffocating. Perhaps because Irene, v naturally, does wish she could have more, so to see Clare's slightly flighty approach towards all her agency and choice pisses her the hell off. Also, Irene is so clearly a control freak who loves the rules. And Clare's entire existence goes against all the rules and Irene just can't believe one can exist outside of this.
It is so interesting to read the ambiguity about the ending, because when I read the ending, in my mind, there was no doubt she jumped. That is just how I saw it. I think the possibility of Irene pushing her is interesting, but I do just think she jumped. I think Irene wanted to push her but Clare just got to it first, and she just felt no remorse she had died because thats what she wanted in order to regain some control back in her life. The line where Irene panics about 'what if Clare is not dead' I read as her panicking for Clare's possible future if she had survived. What would happen to her, now her husband knows her secret? Irene is perceptive enough to know that would be a horrendous existence, so I read her panic about whether she had lived from the perspective of her not wanting her to suffer an exposure and humiliation. Which, even though they're not friends, makes a lot of sense. Irene as a Black woman gets it - she gets what C is trying to evade, understands the wave of racist hell that would be coming her way if she had not managed to kill herself. It would be horrific, to be disgraced in such a way, for her secret to be uncovered.
I don't think C & I had a friendship at all. They were both using each other - C we know just wanted an avenue back to her Black roots and Irene could just not control her fascination and intrigue into how C had conducted her life. While Irene makes several points about how happy she is with her life, she ofc would want it to be easier, and looking at the ease C has (not overall but more than Irene) I think Irene just couldn't resist it.
My favourite part of the novel was definitely when Irene met Clare's husband. Just having the perspective of the reader witnessing that interaction, where we know things that Clare's husband doesn't, was just a lot of fun. The danger and tension coming off the page was really good. I just loved the drama, I thought it was written so well.
Pushed versus jumped. I was leaning towards believing that Clare was pushed by Irene, but Martha, you offer an interpretation to support suicide that I never considered but I find compelling. Now I am back to “sitting on the fence”. Does it really matter if we know if Clare was pushed or jumped? Does ambiguity give the novel more power?
I agree with your assessment of Clare and Irene’s relationship. I do not see a friendship. Friendship involves caring, giving and sacrifice for the other. None of these characteristics exist between Clare and Irene.
Okay, firstly: thank you so much for hosting this reading club! Revisiting Passing, like I said before, was something I truly needed without knowing, and I am so glad I have had the chance to do so alongside you and your other followers, because this has added a lot of different layers to my own reading of the novel--the beauty of community!
I'm trying to figure out how to organize my thoughts following your post and the comments before mine, so this might come across a little less structured than I would like, and I apologize for that in advance!
Firstly, I absolutely missed the parallel between the tea cup and Clare's body, and I am so glad you brought it up! I wanted to bring up another parallel, not to the end of the book, but to the overall relationship between Irene and Clare. Towards the end of chapter 2 of part II, when Clare meets Irene's sons and interrupts their playtime, she tells the boys: "Please don't be cross. Of course, I know I've gone and spoiled everything. But maybe if I promise not to get too much in the way, you'll let me come in, just the same." To which Ted responds: "Sure, come in if you want to. ... We can't stop you, you know." I just added a huge exclamation mark next to these lines--it just feels like such a great exchange, I couldn't get enough of it!
Secondly, my edition comes with an introduction by Brit Bennett, which I found incredibly insightful. She makes a point about underlining how much of passing is a performance, and therefore requires an audience, and I think that informed a lot of my reading and attention to the NUMEROUS references to seeing, looking ("like" and "at"), gazing, staring etc. It is interesting to notice how much of the dialogue itself is framed by these actions, often a lot more than by actual speech/talking tags. And when Brian tells he has invited Clare to the party, they talk by looking at each other primarily through a mirror, adding a whole other layer of gazing upon and through!
Thirdly, and to respond to or to riff off of Shruti's comment (and a little off of everyone else's), I think what is fascinating is that there *isn't* an answer as to what happened at the end. If anything, Irene is built as a unreliable observer (although not a straight-up narrator, hers is still the framing POV for the story), one whose uncertainty grows over the course of the story up to the final pages. It reminded me a lot of Machado de Assis's Dom Casmurro (recently re-translated to English, though I haven't had the chance to read this version): the titular character narrates his life story, that ultimately revolves around his love for and jealousy of a best friend/rival and his love interest/wife. Jealousy of their relationship turns him progressively more paranoid, and the novel leaves you with a "did she cheat on him?" hanging question, which is in my (and many others') perspective the point of it: there is no definitive answer because, despite what the narrator tells us, we just can't know. The ending of Passing leaves me with much the same feeling: whether Irene did it or not, what matters is that she *wanted* to and *could* have--and what does this tell us about this woman brought to the brink of murder?
I love your brain! This is all so good. I also put a big exclamation point next to that conversation between Clare and the boys — something about inevitability and who has power is getting signaled there and I love it!
I really like your final comment about the end. All we know is Irene *could have* done it and that’s perhaps more interesting than whether or not she did. You’re so right!!
As promised here are my notes on Passing, many many weeks too late. I ADORED the book. It's 100 odd pages and so deliberate, so lucid. It's relentless, brutally honest toward its characters, and that only makes them all the more tragic and human and sympathetic.
Irene's awful choices come from a place of debilitating anxiety. Ironically for someone in the NWL committee she flees when race is brought up, demands that it shouldn't affect her at all; it affects her so much that walking in Chicago on her own is a harrowing experience. She doesn't want to talk to her children about race, or rather she hides from the very concept, because no matter how much she bends herself into a pretzel to be in control, she is not in control and one of her boys could be lynched tomorrow. That is EXCRUCIATING, for a person, for a mother.
Also notice that she learned to censor from her parents, who would not talk openly about what happened to Clare. Irene's community, her family, her marriage and herself, they're shrinking and shrinking and holding themselves and others to impossibly high standards, and it all stems from fear and trauma. It's heartbreaking. They're kicking out people like Clare who is the daughter of a janitor and doesn't fit, she's too rebellious, too angry, and anger has to be swallowed, it has to fester somewhere people can't see and judge. Clare, white and ethereal like a ghost, was made into a ghost by her own people too.
Take Zulena, for example. Larsen drops a line sometimes that by being so short and casual is all the more devastating. "Zulena, a small mahogany-coloured creature, brought in the grapefruit." She is the help, she doesn't deserve any more attention than that, and shame to Clare for spending time in the kitchen with her. Zulena doesn't belong because she's poor and dark, Clare doesn't belong because she's "passing". Irene and her small circle have to keep the highest standards if they want to be irreproachable, accepted, SAFE. And still they are NOT accepted and they are NOT safe. No matter her elegant clothes, her "perfect" family and doctor husband, her activism, Irene is one wrong encounter away from shame, from violence.
"One three centuries removed / From the scenes his fathers loved, / Spicy grove, cinnamon tree, / What is Africa to me?" Race is a made up concept that shouldn't matter. But it matters because it's heritage, shared culture, shared pain that has dripped down through generations. The relationship between Irene and Clare cannot be read without taking race into account. They are so similar in so many ways, they're both a bit manipulative (Clare to get affection, Irene to feel safe), they've got so much internal turmoil, they both go to great lengths to get what they want. And most importantly, they have a shared past, they grew up together, they are uniquely equipped to understand each other.
Irene is denying Clare her own community, but she's also denying it to herself, she's fleeing from someone that should be a friend and ally. "What are friend for, if not to help bear our sins?" By trying to protect herself Irene is growing more isolated. And Clare is ironically the only person that can make her feel something other than fear and rage. Irene is not even capable of loving her husband anymore, their relationship is just a power struggle where he's forceful and she's passive-aggressive to get what they want. (Another CHILLING line: "since war had given [Brian] back to her physically unimpaired," the obvious emotional damages are unimportant, like Clare's drama is unimportant, stupid. Irene's personal, silent, unnoticed tragedy is too all-consuming for her to feel compassion for anyone who isn't herself.)
What Irene does is seek Hugh's friendship, when everyone around her is saying Hugh is a bit of an a**. And deep down she's FURIOUS at Hugh and white people, isn't she? "You ancestors, the charming Confederates." But what can she do? She can only get mad at Brian or turn Clare into a scapegoat. Those complex feelings that her shriveling heart is yearning to feel for Clare, admiration, scorn, jealousy, desire, it's just too much and too scary, Clare has to go, even if Clare is not the problem at all. It's like Irene is losing her humanity bit by bit, her chest has shrunk so much there's only room for fear now. How can anyone live like that? I know I'm babbling too much and I've written a lot, but dear God. 100 pages. How can they convey so much anger and sorrow.
Brilliant guide, Haley! In particular, I love what you’ve brought up about: physical spaces, the ‘economy of passing,’ and the etymology and meanings behind the word ‘encounter’
For those who are going to read my entire comment, I apologize, it’s very long but I have so many thoughts —
Because I knew how the book ended going into this reading, for a lot of the time while I was reading, I was looking for clues to the ending. I found so many; but I still don’t know if I have an answer as to what happens at the end.
In last week’s comments, I mentioned that I was paying attention to emotions, and in particular, Irene’s emotions — this, along with paying attention to the theme of power, unlocked a whole new reading for me.
Irene thinks herself the orchestra director. She wants to control everything around her, whether that is convincing her husband to stay in New York, sheltering her children from the world, or even coordinating a simple afternoon tea. But she can’t manage to control the most important thing: herself. She quickly loses control of her emotions and unravels at the slightest trigger throughout the book.
Though she tries to coordinate everything around her, oddly (and probably because of the strange hold that Clare has over her), whenever she plans to do something, she seems to back out at the last minute. She is either unable to do it, or she ends up doing the exact opposite (eg, trying to resist Clare’s invitations; or when she convinces herself to let slip Clare’s identity to Bellew but then doesn’t do it when she has the perfect opportunity to).
But on the other hand, she has no control over her emotions, and is quick to fly into a rage (picking a fight with Brian, ripping up Clare’s letters, breaking the teacup at that party towards the end). There seems to be a disconnect between the ‘logical’ and ‘emotional’ parts of her mind when it comes to her actions, and the emotional side usually wins.
So for most of the book, knowing the ending, I grew convinced that Irene pushed Clare out the window. She was so angry, so wont to act on irrational, sudden impulses, that she MUST have done it in a fit of anger.
But… as we get closer to the end, Irene starts to meditate on the idea of getting rid of Clare; first vaguely, then explicitly imagining her dead. And so seeds of doubt sprung up in my mind. If Irene were to stay true to character, then she would, at the last minute, do the exact OPPOSITE of what she had been planning - which, in this case, would mean that she didn’t push Clare out the window. So which is it?
When Irene plans a thing, at the last minute she often does the opposite. And when she is inspired by a sudden surge of emotion, she acts without thinking. So whether you think Irene killed Clare depends on whether you think she planned it, or acted in the spur of the moment - which is it?
There are so many instances of foreshadowing of the final scene — for example, part one begins with the arrival of a letter, and ends with Irene destroying it (the letter represents Clare’s arrival in Irene’s life, and so if you sub ‘Clare’ for ‘letter’ then this represents the beginning and end of the book: the arrival of Clare and her ultimate destruction). There is also a line in the last part about Irene watching a spark fly out the window from her cigarette and get snuffed out — this is most definitely referencing the end. And, that line about Irene not knowing how to get rid of the teacup until five minutes ago — either she is already subconsciously thinking of Clare, or this incident is what puts the idea into her head.
In this reading I also found myself paying more attention to Brian and Irene’s marriage, and as I did so, I started to notice, with more clarity, the cracks in their relationship. The last time I read the book, I thought the imagined relationship between Brian and Clare was all in Irene’s head, a result of her paranoia. But on this reading, I was convinced that they were actually having an affair.
A lot of the symbols I was using to annotate started to dwindle as the book went on - there simply weren’t as many discussions of society, desire, or appearances anymore, and so towards the end of the book I think the central conflict of the novel comes into sharper focus, as if zooming in to the two women.
I also found myself thinking of the idea of doubles, and Irene and Clare as versions of each other. This called me back to Rebecca - when I have more time, I want to think more on this idea, and the connections between different books that use doubles.
I also have SO many thoughts on the last line of the book, but I have already rambled on for long enough, so for those interested I’ll share two podcast episodes on The Novel Tea from last year about Passing, in which we talk about the last line, among other things (in one episode we compared Passing with The Vanishing Half, and in the other we talked more about Passing and the Netflix adaptation): https://thenovelteapod.substack.com/p/podcast
Alright, I might have more to say as I read everyone else’s comments but I’ll end here for now!!
Can’t wait for the deep dive!
This is so amazing Shruti! I love your analysis of Irene's state of mind and the question of whether or not she pushed Clare. What I am loving the most is the way that, no matter which way you stack the evidence, it's really difficult to know the true ending — to me, that signals just how profoundly smart Nella Larsen really is, as a writer. She leaves it possible to so many interpretations, while also giving us so many rich insights into passing, race, and fidelity. So, whether we "know" the truth about Irene or not, we still get so much value from reading the story. This feels particularly modernist to me!
And I'm so excited to share the deep dive — and thank you for sharing the links to your own deeper dives on the novel! I'm excited to dig into your episode about the last line!
Yes she is so masterful at giving us hints and clues but never giving away too much!
Shruti, I'm just commenting on your thread to let you know that your comment has sparked some ideas that I want to add to my own further down--and to say that I absolutely read your entire comment, not long at all!
I did not see that coming. In retrospect I should have noted that Irene’s increasing suspicions, rage, and unravelling, culminating in her crashing the teacup at the earlier party all pointed to a dramatic finale. Those last few pages of the novel were so very cinematic, everything happens so fast, and the mood is so palpable. I got to the end and needed to start over from the beginning. We’ve seen everything from Irene’s perspective. She starts out uncomfortable, aloof, and irritated by little things. Meeting Clare just brings that all into fuller focus, and then escalates. What is Clare’s side of things? What is Brian’s? Was all that menace, malice, and scheming that Irene attributes to Clare real? Was there ever really anything happening between Clare and Brian? Is this whole telling of events by Irene just the version she has created to keep herself from facing what she “never afterwards allowed herself to remember”? I'm still not sure and wonder where do these characters go from here. I expected the propulsion of the plot to be the racial implication of passing. It is there, but overshadowed I think by the taut psychological study of Irene. We learn more of Irene’s “passing” than of Clare’s. Irene is passing as settled, safe, secure, even happy when she has built an illusion of all that by repressing anything she truly feels. Lots more ideas are percolating in my thoughts, and I’m looking forward to other’s comments to help me find structure for them.
So good, huh? The first time I read it, the last 3 pages blew my mind. I didn’t see it coming at all! I love your questions about how limited we are to Irene. What about Clare? What about Brian? How does being so close to Irene cloud our understanding of what happens?
I am really struggling with why so many people think Clare's death is ambiguous. To me, it's obvious that Irene pushed her, as otherwise the following passages don't make sense:
"If Clare was freed, anything might happen. . . . [S]he would do anything, risk anything, to prevent [Bellew] from finding out that truth [that Clare is black, prompting him to divorce her]."
"It was a smile that maddened Irene. She ran across the room, her terror tinged with ferocity, and laid a hand on Clare's bare arm. One thought possessed her. She couldn't have Clare Kendry cast aside by Bellew. She couldn't have her free."
"What would the others think? That Clare had fallen? That she had deliberately leaned backward? Certainly one or the other. Not - But she mustn’t, she warned herself, think of that. . . . could only put from her memory the vision of her hand on Clare's arm!"
"But there would be questions. She hadn't thought of them, of afterwards, of this. She had thought of nothing in that sudden moment of action."
"In the midst of her wondering and questioning came a thought so terrifying, so horrible, that she had had to grasp hold of the banister to save herself from pitching downwards.. . . What if Clare was not dead?"
And, when Felise confirms that Clare is dead, "Irene struggled against the sob of thankfulness that rose in her throat."
The thing that seals the deal for me is Irene's sudden panic at the thought "What if Clare was not dead?". I see potential for ambiguity, but in this my first read, I don't think I can be convinced of anything other than that Irene pushed her.
A couple of thoughts from the essays at the back of my Norton Critical Edition: First, Juanita Ellsworth says, "Surprising to most people is the fact that 'passing' often takes place accidentally. That is to say, a light-skinned Negro is surprised on occasion to find himself or herself accepted as a white person. If the new recognition is allowed to stand, economic opportunity and a new status result. The economic advantage that comes from 'passing' is great; it is sometimes the chief reason for deliberately seeking the transition from one race to another."
The reference to "a new status" made me think about how that has changed in our society, where victimhood or being the oppressed is now often considered a desirable or valuable status, as when Rachel Dolezal passed herself off as Black.
Second is this comment by Caleb Johnson, from his 1931 essay "Crossing the Color Line": "The 'passer's' Negro relatives and friends can be relied upon not to give the 'passer' away. Their attitude is that it is a good joke on the white folks; coupled with this there seems to be a sense of pride that one of their race has achieved the social equality denied to themselves."
But this clearly ISN'T Irene's attitude to Clare's passing, which she seems to consider as traitorous to Clare's true Black identity. In fact, this doesn't seem to reflect Nella Larsen's attitude either, as I don't recall a single Black character in Passing who thought Clare's passing to be a good thing. Part of me wonders whether the difference in attitudes expressed by Johnson and Irene are a function of class rather than race, i.e., whether lower-class Blacks found passing funny but higher-class Blacks like Irene and the members of the N.W.L. felt it to be an implicit criticism of their own Blackness.
One last comment. Irene (and by implication Nella Larsen) suggests that Blacks, but not whites, can accurately distinguish between the races: "Absurd! Impossible! White people were so stupid about such things for all that they usually asserted that they were able to tell; and by the most ridiculous means, finger-nails, palms of hands, shapes of ears, teeth, and other equally silly rot." The Norton Critical Edition drops a footnote here: "This question of whether or not there were visible, detectable signs of race - and of who could and could not read them - was central to debates over passing in the 1920s."
This immediately brought to my mind the distinction in Rwanda between the Hutus and the Tutsis. My understanding is that the distinction between these two groups was entirely artificial: that the Belgian colonizers divided a previously homogeneous Black population between those with broad noses (Hutus) and those with narrower, more European-looking noses (Tutsis), even when that distinction split members of biological families. These Blacks then so bought into the distinction after the Belgians' departure that the majority Hutus carried out a genocide against the minority Tutsis, members of their own race, by relying upon precisely the type of appearance-based "silly rot" Irene ridicules.
And where does all of this leave us now, when apparently one can choose to identify with whatever race suits them and where whites are frequently accused of misappropriating Black culture if they braid their hair or dress in a particular way, i.e., share some elements of physical appearance with the other race?
An interesting and potentially depressing rabbit hole to fall into is to dig into the anthropological studies in the 1800s trying to find biological markers in order to categorize (and rank) the "races". An exhibit at the Museum of Man in San Diego from several years ago piqued my interest. It was so obvious that the whole construct of race was tied to looking for evidence to support political and economic systems of oppression.
Ok I am here. I loved every minute of reading this! Particularly the beginning, where you reference Davis and the concept of 'elbow room' and using this to explore Clare encroaching on Irene's space(s). Irene is absolutely feeling suffocated by Clare, both emotionally and physically. What I found really interesting was how Clare represents the impossible to Irene. As in - by passing she has gained so many things Irene hasn't (and this is even more interesting bc it is insinuated that Irene could pass by Clare but has chosen not to. So it is v much how the other half life vibe, instead of Irene watching Clare create a life that wouldn't even be possible for her) With deceit and lies (for lack of a better phrase) 'playing the system' Clare has gained a huge economic and social benefit of passing. She has 'seen the other side' and still wants to come back to Irene's life which she, clearly, finds incredibly suffocating. Perhaps because Irene, v naturally, does wish she could have more, so to see Clare's slightly flighty approach towards all her agency and choice pisses her the hell off. Also, Irene is so clearly a control freak who loves the rules. And Clare's entire existence goes against all the rules and Irene just can't believe one can exist outside of this.
It is so interesting to read the ambiguity about the ending, because when I read the ending, in my mind, there was no doubt she jumped. That is just how I saw it. I think the possibility of Irene pushing her is interesting, but I do just think she jumped. I think Irene wanted to push her but Clare just got to it first, and she just felt no remorse she had died because thats what she wanted in order to regain some control back in her life. The line where Irene panics about 'what if Clare is not dead' I read as her panicking for Clare's possible future if she had survived. What would happen to her, now her husband knows her secret? Irene is perceptive enough to know that would be a horrendous existence, so I read her panic about whether she had lived from the perspective of her not wanting her to suffer an exposure and humiliation. Which, even though they're not friends, makes a lot of sense. Irene as a Black woman gets it - she gets what C is trying to evade, understands the wave of racist hell that would be coming her way if she had not managed to kill herself. It would be horrific, to be disgraced in such a way, for her secret to be uncovered.
I don't think C & I had a friendship at all. They were both using each other - C we know just wanted an avenue back to her Black roots and Irene could just not control her fascination and intrigue into how C had conducted her life. While Irene makes several points about how happy she is with her life, she ofc would want it to be easier, and looking at the ease C has (not overall but more than Irene) I think Irene just couldn't resist it.
My favourite part of the novel was definitely when Irene met Clare's husband. Just having the perspective of the reader witnessing that interaction, where we know things that Clare's husband doesn't, was just a lot of fun. The danger and tension coming off the page was really good. I just loved the drama, I thought it was written so well.
PS I Love the story arc visual!!
Pushed versus jumped. I was leaning towards believing that Clare was pushed by Irene, but Martha, you offer an interpretation to support suicide that I never considered but I find compelling. Now I am back to “sitting on the fence”. Does it really matter if we know if Clare was pushed or jumped? Does ambiguity give the novel more power?
I agree with your assessment of Clare and Irene’s relationship. I do not see a friendship. Friendship involves caring, giving and sacrifice for the other. None of these characteristics exist between Clare and Irene.
Okay, firstly: thank you so much for hosting this reading club! Revisiting Passing, like I said before, was something I truly needed without knowing, and I am so glad I have had the chance to do so alongside you and your other followers, because this has added a lot of different layers to my own reading of the novel--the beauty of community!
I'm trying to figure out how to organize my thoughts following your post and the comments before mine, so this might come across a little less structured than I would like, and I apologize for that in advance!
Firstly, I absolutely missed the parallel between the tea cup and Clare's body, and I am so glad you brought it up! I wanted to bring up another parallel, not to the end of the book, but to the overall relationship between Irene and Clare. Towards the end of chapter 2 of part II, when Clare meets Irene's sons and interrupts their playtime, she tells the boys: "Please don't be cross. Of course, I know I've gone and spoiled everything. But maybe if I promise not to get too much in the way, you'll let me come in, just the same." To which Ted responds: "Sure, come in if you want to. ... We can't stop you, you know." I just added a huge exclamation mark next to these lines--it just feels like such a great exchange, I couldn't get enough of it!
Secondly, my edition comes with an introduction by Brit Bennett, which I found incredibly insightful. She makes a point about underlining how much of passing is a performance, and therefore requires an audience, and I think that informed a lot of my reading and attention to the NUMEROUS references to seeing, looking ("like" and "at"), gazing, staring etc. It is interesting to notice how much of the dialogue itself is framed by these actions, often a lot more than by actual speech/talking tags. And when Brian tells he has invited Clare to the party, they talk by looking at each other primarily through a mirror, adding a whole other layer of gazing upon and through!
Thirdly, and to respond to or to riff off of Shruti's comment (and a little off of everyone else's), I think what is fascinating is that there *isn't* an answer as to what happened at the end. If anything, Irene is built as a unreliable observer (although not a straight-up narrator, hers is still the framing POV for the story), one whose uncertainty grows over the course of the story up to the final pages. It reminded me a lot of Machado de Assis's Dom Casmurro (recently re-translated to English, though I haven't had the chance to read this version): the titular character narrates his life story, that ultimately revolves around his love for and jealousy of a best friend/rival and his love interest/wife. Jealousy of their relationship turns him progressively more paranoid, and the novel leaves you with a "did she cheat on him?" hanging question, which is in my (and many others') perspective the point of it: there is no definitive answer because, despite what the narrator tells us, we just can't know. The ending of Passing leaves me with much the same feeling: whether Irene did it or not, what matters is that she *wanted* to and *could* have--and what does this tell us about this woman brought to the brink of murder?
I love your brain! This is all so good. I also put a big exclamation point next to that conversation between Clare and the boys — something about inevitability and who has power is getting signaled there and I love it!
I really like your final comment about the end. All we know is Irene *could have* done it and that’s perhaps more interesting than whether or not she did. You’re so right!!
Love these thoughts! And wow, I missed that the convo between Brian and Clare is so prominently through a mirror, thanks for pointing that out!
As promised here are my notes on Passing, many many weeks too late. I ADORED the book. It's 100 odd pages and so deliberate, so lucid. It's relentless, brutally honest toward its characters, and that only makes them all the more tragic and human and sympathetic.
Irene's awful choices come from a place of debilitating anxiety. Ironically for someone in the NWL committee she flees when race is brought up, demands that it shouldn't affect her at all; it affects her so much that walking in Chicago on her own is a harrowing experience. She doesn't want to talk to her children about race, or rather she hides from the very concept, because no matter how much she bends herself into a pretzel to be in control, she is not in control and one of her boys could be lynched tomorrow. That is EXCRUCIATING, for a person, for a mother.
Also notice that she learned to censor from her parents, who would not talk openly about what happened to Clare. Irene's community, her family, her marriage and herself, they're shrinking and shrinking and holding themselves and others to impossibly high standards, and it all stems from fear and trauma. It's heartbreaking. They're kicking out people like Clare who is the daughter of a janitor and doesn't fit, she's too rebellious, too angry, and anger has to be swallowed, it has to fester somewhere people can't see and judge. Clare, white and ethereal like a ghost, was made into a ghost by her own people too.
Take Zulena, for example. Larsen drops a line sometimes that by being so short and casual is all the more devastating. "Zulena, a small mahogany-coloured creature, brought in the grapefruit." She is the help, she doesn't deserve any more attention than that, and shame to Clare for spending time in the kitchen with her. Zulena doesn't belong because she's poor and dark, Clare doesn't belong because she's "passing". Irene and her small circle have to keep the highest standards if they want to be irreproachable, accepted, SAFE. And still they are NOT accepted and they are NOT safe. No matter her elegant clothes, her "perfect" family and doctor husband, her activism, Irene is one wrong encounter away from shame, from violence.
"One three centuries removed / From the scenes his fathers loved, / Spicy grove, cinnamon tree, / What is Africa to me?" Race is a made up concept that shouldn't matter. But it matters because it's heritage, shared culture, shared pain that has dripped down through generations. The relationship between Irene and Clare cannot be read without taking race into account. They are so similar in so many ways, they're both a bit manipulative (Clare to get affection, Irene to feel safe), they've got so much internal turmoil, they both go to great lengths to get what they want. And most importantly, they have a shared past, they grew up together, they are uniquely equipped to understand each other.
Irene is denying Clare her own community, but she's also denying it to herself, she's fleeing from someone that should be a friend and ally. "What are friend for, if not to help bear our sins?" By trying to protect herself Irene is growing more isolated. And Clare is ironically the only person that can make her feel something other than fear and rage. Irene is not even capable of loving her husband anymore, their relationship is just a power struggle where he's forceful and she's passive-aggressive to get what they want. (Another CHILLING line: "since war had given [Brian] back to her physically unimpaired," the obvious emotional damages are unimportant, like Clare's drama is unimportant, stupid. Irene's personal, silent, unnoticed tragedy is too all-consuming for her to feel compassion for anyone who isn't herself.)
What Irene does is seek Hugh's friendship, when everyone around her is saying Hugh is a bit of an a**. And deep down she's FURIOUS at Hugh and white people, isn't she? "You ancestors, the charming Confederates." But what can she do? She can only get mad at Brian or turn Clare into a scapegoat. Those complex feelings that her shriveling heart is yearning to feel for Clare, admiration, scorn, jealousy, desire, it's just too much and too scary, Clare has to go, even if Clare is not the problem at all. It's like Irene is losing her humanity bit by bit, her chest has shrunk so much there's only room for fear now. How can anyone live like that? I know I'm babbling too much and I've written a lot, but dear God. 100 pages. How can they convey so much anger and sorrow.