Every Tongue Got to Confess: Negro Folk-Tales from the Gulf States

African-American folklore was Zora Neale Hurston's first love. Collected in the late 1920's Every Tongue Got to Confess, from the celebrated author of Their Eyes Were Watching God, is published here for the first time, beautifully performed by Ruby Dee and Ossie Davis.

Hilarious, bittersweet, and often saucy, these folk-tales provide a verdant slice of African-American life in the rural South at the turn of the twentieth century. They capture the heart and soul of the vital, independent, and creative community that so inspired Zora Neale Hurston.

In Every Tongue Got to Confess, Hurston records, with uncanny precision, the voices of ordinary people -and no two actors better capture this world than Ruby Dee and Ossie Davis. They pay tribute to the richness of Black vernacular -- its crisp self-awareness, singular wit, and improvisational wordplay. These folk-tales reflect the joys and sorrows of the African-American experience, celebrate the redemptive power of storytelling, and showcase the continuous presence in America of an Afticanized language that flourishes to this day.

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Every Tongue Got to Confess: Negro Folk-Tales from the Gulf States

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Overview

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780060842734
Publisher:	HarperCollins Publishers
Publication date:	10/31/2005
Edition description:	Unabridged

About the Author

Zora Neale Hurston, the author of Their Eyes Were Watching God, was deemed "one of the greatest writers of our time" by Toni Morrison. With the publication of Lies and Other Tall Tales, The Skull Talks Back, and What's the Hurry, Fox? new generations will be introduced to Hurston's legacy. She was born in Notasulga, Alabama, in 1891, and died in 1960.

Not only is Ruby Dee one of the most respected African-American actors of her day, she was also an important part of the civil rights movement. She is probably best known for her role in A Raisin in the Sun, which she performed on both the stage and the screen.

Dee has also written plays, fiction, and a column in New York's Amsterdam News.

Born in Cleveland, she worked initially with the American Negro Theater in Harlem, where she grew up. She is married to the actor and author Ossie Davis.

Ossie Davis illumined America's stage and screen for two generations. He distinguished himself as a writer, actor, director, and narrator. A short list of his film work includes: I'm Not Rappaport, The Client, Grumpy Old Men, and Do the Right Thing. He and his wife Ruby Dee were 1995 recipients of the National Medal of Arts Award. On Feb. 4, 2005 Ossie Davis died at the age of 87.

Date of Birth:

January 7, 1891

Date of Death:

January 28, 1960

Place of Birth:

Eatonville, Florida

Place of Death:

Fort Pierce, Florida

Education:

B.A., Barnard College, 1928 (the school's first black graduate). Went on to study anthropology at Columbia University.

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

Why God Made Adam Last

God wuz through makin' de Ian' an' de sea an' de birds an' de animals an' de fishes an' de trees befo' He made man. He wuz intendin' tuh make 'im all along, but He put it off tuh de last cause if He had uh made Adam fust an' let him see Him makin' all dese other things, when Eve wuz made Adam would of stood round braggin' tuh her. He would of said: "Eve, do you see dat ole stripe-ed tagger (tiger) over dere? Ah made. See dat ole narrow geraffe (giraffe) over dere? Ah made 'im too. See dat big ole tree over dere? Ah made dat jus' so you could set under it."

God knowed all dat, so He jus' waited till everything wuz finished before he made man, cause He knows man will lie and brag on hisself tuh uh woman. Man ain't found out yet how things wuz made -- he ain't meant tuh know.

--James Presley.

When God first put folks on earth there wasn't no difference between men and women. They was all alike. They did de same work and everything. De man got tired uh fussin 'bout who gointer do this and who gointer do that.

So he went up tuh God and ast him tuh give him power over de woman so dat he could rule her and stop all dat arguin'.

He ast Him tuh give him a lil mo' strength and he'd do de heavy work and let de woman jus' take orders from him whut to do. He tole Him he wouldn't mind doing de heavy [work] if he could jus' boss de job. So de Lawd done all he ast Him and he went on back home -- and right off he started tuh bossin' de womanuh-round.

So de woman didn't lak dat a-tall. So she went up tuh God and ast Him how come He give man all de power and didn't leave her none. So He tole her, "You never ast Me for none. I thought you was satisfied."

She says, "Well, I ain't, wid de man bossin' me round lak he took tuh doin' since you give him all de power. I wants half uh his power. Take it away and give it tuh me."

De Lawd shook His head. He tole her, "I never takes nothin' back after I done give it out. It's too bad since you don't like it, but you shoulda come up wid him, then I woulda 'vided it half and half."

De woman was so mad she left dere spittin' lak a cat. She went straight tuh de devil. He tole her: "I'll tell you whut to do. You go right back up tuh God and ast Him tuh give you dat bunch uh keys hangin' by de mantle shelf, den bring 'em here tuh me and I'll tell you whut to do wid 'em, and you kin have mo' power than man."

So she did and God give 'em tuh her thout uh word and she took 'em back tuh de devil. They was three keys on dat ring. So de devil tole her whut they was. One was de key to de bedroom and one was de key to de cradle and de other was de kitchen key. He tole her not tuh go home and start no fuss, jus' take de keys and lock up everything an' wait till de man come in -- and she could have her way. So she did. De man tried tuh ack stubborn at first. But he couldn't git no peace in de bed and nothin' tuh eat, an' he couldn't make no generations tuh follow him unless he use his power tuh suit de woman. It wasn't doin' him no good tuh have de power cause she wouldn't let 'im use it lak he wanted tuh. So he tried tuh dicker wid her. He said he'd give her half de power if she would let him keep de keys half de time.

De devil popped right up and tole her naw, jus' keep whut she got and let him keep whut he got. So de man went back up tuh God, but He tole him Jus' lak he done de woman.

So he ast God jus' tuh give him part de key tuh de cradle so's he could know and be sure who was de father of chillun, but God shook His head and tole him: "You have tuh ast de woman and take her word. She got de keys and I never take back whut I give out."

So de man come on back and done lak de woman tole him for de sake of peace in de bed. And thass how come women got de power over mens today.

--Old Man Drummond.

God done pretty good when He made man, but He could have made us a lot more convenient. For instance: we only got eyes in de front uh our heads -- we need some in de back, too, so nuthin' can't slip upon us. Nuther thing: it would be handy, too, ef we had one right on de end uv our dog finger (first finger). Den we could jest point dat eye any which way. Nuther thing: our mouths oughter be on top uv our heads 'stead uh right in front. Then, when I'm late tuh work I kin just throw my breakfast in my hat, an' put my hat on my head, an' eat my breakfast as I go on tuh work. Now, ain't dat reasonable, Miss? Besides, mouths ain't so pretty nohow.

--George Brown.

One day Christ wuz going along wid His disciples an' He tole 'em all tuh pick up uh rock an' bring it along. All of 'em got one, but Peter...

	Foreword	xi
	Introduction	xxi
	A Note to the Reader	xxxiii
	Negro Folk-tales from the Gulf States	1
Appendix 1257
Appendix 2259
Appendix 3	"Stories Kossula Told Me"	265

Reading Group Guide

Introduction

Storytelling is an essential element of many cultural traditions -- especially those that have had to carve their identities in an unfriendly setting and struggle to hold their communities together. The African-American storytelling tradition is one of the strongest, yet this astonishing collection of African-American folk tales has lingered in archival obscurity for decades -- until now.

In the late 1920s, with the support of Franz Boas of Columbia University, a circle of friends that included members of the Harlem Renaissance, and a wealthy patron named Charlotte Osgood Mason, Zora Neale Hurston set out to collect the folk tales of the rural south. Travelling from Florida to Alabama to Georgia and Louisiana, Hurston spoke with men and women, young and old, domestics and mine workers, housewives and jailbirds, collecting their tales word for word. She wanted to preserve a language that was unique, pure, and lasting. "I have tried to be as exact as possible. Keep to the exact dialect as closely as I could, having the story teller to tell it to me word for word as I write. This after it has been told to me off hand until I know it myself. But the writing down from the lips is to insure the correct dialect and wording so that I shall not let myself creep in unconsciously." (from the Introduction by Carla Kaplan, p. xxvii)

The result of Hurston's travels is this unique and extensive volume of nearly five hundred African-American folk tales grouped in categories ranging from God Tales to Devil Tales, from John and Massa Tales to Heaven Tales and School Tales. The stories poignantly capture the colorful, pain-filled, and sometimes magical worldthat surrounded them, revealing attitudes about faith, love, family, slavery, race, and community. Yet the tales are laced with humor from which no one is spared. In one story God is accused of mistaking a white man for a Negro; in another, a watermelon is so large that when it bursts it floods the river and drowns the townsfolk; and in yet another, the devil tries to make a field of cabbage like God has done, but he can't quite get it right and ends up with a field of tobacco.

Hurston's determination to capture the authentic language of "the Negro farthest down" (xxvi) is a vital contribution to African-American letters. These folktales were not just Zora Neale Hurston's first love; they paved the way for generations of African-American writers, preserving a language whose poetry thrives to this day.

Questions for Discussion

The oral tradition is extremely important -- in fact, for many cultures it is the only way of passing on traditions, beliefs, stories, etc. How has modern life infringed upon or altered this tradition? In the media age, does oral tradition have a place in literature?

Many contemporary African-American authors found inspiration in Zora Neale Hurston's work. In reading these folktales, are you able to recognize their influence? And if so, can you think of any particular authors whose style recalls Hurston's?

What does the oral tradition lose in the translation to the written word? Do you think that Hurston succeeds in being true to the stories and storytellers in her rendering of these tales? What sort of images do you conjure about the tellers themselves?

Do you agree with John Edgar Wideman that "translation destroys and displaces as much as it restores and renders available" (p. xvi)? Discuss how this premise manifests itself in this collection.

In the Foreword, John Edgar Wideman draws a connection between African-American oral tradition, jazz, and hip hop. Do you agree with him that Zora Neale Hurston began a trend the cultural impact of which even she could not foresee?

In a letter to Langston Hughes, Hurston writes, "I am leaving the story material almost untouched. I have only tampered with it where the storyteller was not clear. I know it is going to read different, but that is the glory of the thing, don't you think?" (xxviii) Discuss the balancing act Hurston had to negotiate between the free flowing storytelling tradition of the rural south and her more formal academic training.

In her introduction, Carla Kaplan suggests that if Hurston had published this volume of folktales during her lifetime it may have "derailed" her career as a novelist. Do you agree? How do you think it would have affected her career? How would it have affected our perception of African-American literature?

Do you feel that the exactness of the dialect in Hurston's transcriptions -- a dialect that can often be difficult to read -- contributes to the value of these folktales as a historical document? Discuss the pros and cons of reading the folktales in the dialect they were spoken.

The title of this collection -- Every Tongue Got to Confess -- came from one of the Folktales, but Hurston didn't choose it. Do you think it sums up the essence of the collection? If so, how? And if not, what are some of the other titles you would propose?

Discuss your favorite tales in this collection. What is it about these particular stories that you especially liked? About the Author: Zora Neale Hurston was born in Notasulga, Alabama, on January 7, 1891, the fifth child of John Hurston (farmer, carpenter, and Baptist preacher) and Lucy Ann Potts (school teacher). The author of numerous books, including Their Eyes Were Watching God, Jonah's Gourd Vine, Mules and Men, and Moses, Man of the Mountain, Hurston was a novelist, anthropologist, outspoken essayist, lecturer, and theatrical producer. Hurston's finest work of fiction appeared at a time when artistic and political statements--whether single sentences or book-length fictions--were peculiarly conflated. Many works of fiction were informed by purely political motives; political pronouncements frequently appeared in polished literary prose. And Hurston's own political statements, relating to racial issues or addressing national politics, did not ingratiate her with her black male contemporaries. The outcome of the controversy was bitter for Hurston, with Their Eyes Were Watching God going out of print after an initial burst of commercial success and remaining out of print for nearly thirty years. It was only through the determined efforts of Alice Walker, Robert Hemenway (Hurston's biographer), Toni Cade Bambara, and other writers and scholars in the 1970s that all of her books are now back in print and that she has taken her rightful place in the pantheon of American authors.

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Editorial Reviews

If you're a fan of Zora Neale Hurston, you've been waiting a long time: This is first book by the great African-American author to appear in more than 50 years! Compiled in the late '20s, Every Tongue Got to Confess is Hurston's collection of nearly 500 folktales from the rural black South. As Hurston devotees know, the Alabama-born author regarded folklore as her first love, and it was always an integral element of her creativity.

bn.com

In compiling Every Tongue Got to Confess Hurston clearly placed as much emphasis on imagination as on authenticity. She gives these stories a sharp immediacy and a fine supply of down-to-earth humor.
— New York Times

Janet Maslin

In Every Tongue Got to Confess, the book's great value for us today is in the way it returns us to Hurston's literary and academic roots as a folklorist and anthropologist and to the people and material which inspired and enriched her fiction.
— Los Angeles Times

Julius Lester

In 1927, the aspiring anthropologist Zora Neale Hurston set out from New York for the Deep South, hoping to amass a collection of the African-American folklore she had loved since her childhood. Armed with a scholarly grant and her academic training, Hurston bought herself a car and a pistol and headed off for sawmills, turpentine camps and juke joints where black vernacular culture prospered. The experience was pivotal in Hurston's career, reintroducing her to the Southern folk who would be at the center of her fiction and reminding her of the vitality of their culture. She had feared that "Negroness" was disappearing beneath urban society; the journey showed her that it was alive and well and "still in the making." Unfortunately, most of the material Hurston collected was never published, and what did reach the public had often been reworked to meet the demands of publishers and patrons. So it was a lucky event when the manuscript of this collection was recently discovered moldering in the Library of Congress. Published here for the first time, these folktales of the black South appear as Hurston wanted them seen: as unadorned testaments to the suffering and the vibrant, creative humor of her people.
—Sean McCann

Although Hurston is better known for her novels, particularly Their Eyes Were Watching God, she might have been prouder of her anthropological field work. In 1927, with the support of Franz Boas, the dean of American anthropologists, Hurston traveled the Deep South collecting stories from black laborers, farmers, craftsmen and idlers. These tales featured a cast of characters made famous in Joel Chandler Harris's bowdlerized Uncle Remus versions, including John (related, no doubt, to High John the Conqueror), Brer Fox and various slaves. But for Hurston these stories were more than entertainments; they represented a utopia created to offset the sometimes unbearable pressures of disenfranchisement: "Brer Fox, Brer Deer, Brer 'Gator, Brer Dawg, Brer Rabbit, Ole Massa and his wife were walking the earth like natural men way back in the days when God himself was on the ground and men could talk with him." Hurston's notes, which somehow got lost, were recently rediscovered in someone else's papers at the Smithsonian. Divided into 15 categories ("Woman Tales," "Neatest Trick Tales," etc.), the stories as she jotted them down range from mere jokes of a few paragraphs to three-page episodes. Many are set "in slavery time," with "massa" portrayed as an often-gulled, but always potentially punitive, presence. There are a variety of "how come" and trickster stories, written in dialect. Acting the part of the good anthropologist, Hurston is scrupulously impersonal, and, as a result, the tales bear few traces of her inimitable voice, unlike Tell My Horse, her classic study of Haitian voodoo. Though this may limit the book's appeal among general readers, it is a boon for Hurston scholars and may, as Kaplan says in her introduction, establish Hurston's importance as an African-American folklorist. (Dec.) Forecast: Hurston's name will ensure this title ample review coverage, and it should do well among lovers of folktales, particularly those curious about Hurston's career in the field. Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.

Publishers Weekly

Folklorist Hurston, who died in 1960, collected these stories in the late 1920s from African Americans in the rural South. The tales range from one liners to more complex stories, divided by subject: God tales, neatest trick tales, preacher tales, devil tales, and so on. Hurston replicates the vernacular in which these were told. In this recorded version, Ruby Dee and Ossie Davis perform and are able to include the often sly, often sparkling wit of the original tellers. A real treat for students of folklore, black culture, or anyone who likes hearing good stories well-told. Nann Blaine Hilyard, Lake Villa Dist. Lib., IL Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information.

Library Journal

This entertaining collection, which was left unpublished in 1929 and only recently unearthed, is a fine companion to Hurston's earlier volumes, Tell My Horse (1937) and Mules and Men (1935). The late (1891-1960) author of the classic novels Jonah's Gourd Vine and Their Eyes Were Watching God was also a knowledgeable folklorist, as we learn again from John Edgar Wideman's tributory foreword and Editor Kaplan's informative introduction. The latter discusses Hurston's energetic research into indigenous tales and legends, supported by minimal grants, the WPA, and a wealthy white patron. The stories themselves-ranging from single-sentence utterances to fully detailed and developed anecdotes-are arranged in 17 specific categories focusing on such subjects as gender relations ("Women Tales"); racial inequity and enmity ("Massa and White Folks Tales"); creation stories, many akin to Joel Chandler Harris's Uncle Remus stories ("Talking Animal Tales"); and several varieties of folk supernaturalism ("God Tales," "Devil Tales"). Frequent use of racial epithets and dialect reminiscent of minstrel shows will probably offend many contemporary readers, but are indisputable evidence of the authenticity of Hurston's presentations: in almost every case of stories she heard directly from ordinary people, many of them illiterate. There is inevitable repetition, but not as much as one might expect. And there are many pleasures: impudent alternative versions of familiar biblical tales and good-natured mockery of religious truisms ("What in the hell does ...[an] angel need with ... [Jacob's] ladder when he's got wings"); sly references to racial imperatives (a black man falling off a roof notices he'sabout to land on a white woman-"so he turnt right roun' and fell back upon dat house"); a ribald explanation of why women don't serve in the army, and several clever one-liners about the physical (and marital) problems encountered by snails. A rich harvest of native storytelling.

Kirkus Reviews

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Overview

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About the Author

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

Why God Made Adam Last

Table of Contents

Reading Group Guide

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