It is fair to say, there is no soul walking among us today who’s’ life has not recognized struggle through its passage. In the story “Sonny’s Blues”, Sonny, the narrators’ brother, struggles with drug addiction at a very early age in life. As with everyone in life that has experienced struggle, of any nature, we desperately solicit ways to find an outlet in order to manifest this struggle in a positive way. Sonny’s experience is the struggles of life and the way he chooses to convey his expressions are through his blues. Sonny, a young college student and an inspiring musician at the time, was arrested for consuming and selling heroine in a local Harlem neighborhood.
It is never really clear in the story how many years Sonny goes to prison for, which is understandable because as adults we can infer that going to prison, even for a day, can seem like a lifetime to just about anyone. Upset at himself and at the choices he has made that landed him in the predicanment he is in, Sonny struggles to cope with the realities of being an adult and being held accountable for his actions. Early one morning Sonny’s brother, a retired army veteran, working as a grade school algebra teacher was enjoying a cigarette and watching kids play as he read the newspaper, to his surprise, on the front page was Sonny, along with brief details as to the nature of the arrest. He is frozen with shame. He cannot imagine what wrong turn Sonny’s life had taken that steered Sonny to become a drug addict peddling low life and how in the midst of all of this it somehow landed him behind bars.
He cannot come to terms as to why Sonny, his baby brother, so smart and witty, with such a bright future ahead of him, would ever take up drugs as a coping mechanism to deal with the struggles in his life. As Sonny’s bother reports to his classroom he is over whelmed and struggles terribly with the realization that, maybe someday, one of his students that where in his immediate presence might have a tragic mishap and they themselves could end up where Sonny currently resides, due to the hardships they are soon to face as young adolescents growing up the streets of Harlem. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for them, as he felt sorry for Sonny and himself years before, realizing that he was once one of those kids sitting at those very desks unable to escape Harlem. While Sonny copes with the realization that he isn’t going home any time soon and the loneliness the inside of a cell barricaded by bars can render, Sonny’s brother coped with the fact that his litle brother was a no good two timing drug addict that had absolutely no ambition in his life and even less of a backbone to his soul.
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The brothers spent years without speaking to one another. Not a visit or so much as a letter had come in the form of communication from Sonny’s brother; until the most tragic thing that could ever happen to a loving father happened to Sonny’s brother. On one tragic afternoon Grace, Sonny’s niece, dies of polio while Sonny is in prison. Sonny’s Brother could not deal with the rush of emotion that convulsed his world do to his baby brother being in prison and now his eldest daughter dying in such a horrific death. The death of Grace becomes almost like an act of grace, in the story, as it precipitated him to write Sonny for the first time since his incarceration! Throughout the story it is evident that both characters are struggling with their own demons. Sonny struggles to find his path to becoming a drug free musician and the narrator struggles with the promise he had made his mother just before he deployed to the army.
The narrator explained to Sonny how it was his duty as his older brother and his obligation as a son to look after Sonny, to make sure nothing happened to him, and stand by Sonny’s side as he had promised his mother he would do before she passed the way. Sonny was soon thereafter released from prison. His brother awaited his arrival anxiously; he supplicates for Sonny’s forgiveness, and reassured him that he would never allow anything like this to happen again. Sonny’s brother had arranged for Sonny to stay at his Isabel’s, his wife, parent’s house while he got his head straight and finished college. Isabel had a way with Sonny that no one else seem to have. They understood one another and Isabel made Sonny feel at ease at her parents home. She and Sonny develop a warm and trusting relationship. She made Sonny laugh quiet often drawing him out of his shell and acquiring his trust over time. Isabel is a loving mother, much like Sonny’s mother, that watched over Sonny and Sonny’s brother. Sonny, at first, did not agree about residing at Isabel’s parents’ home. He was reluctant at first, and then he learned they owned a piano, which persuaded Sonny’s interest,.
From that moment on, Sonny did nothing but eat, sleep, go to school and play the piano. He had finally found his outlet. A form of expression that allow Sonny to show the world the true struggles of being a black adolescent in the streets of Harlem trying to find his way as a small fish in a huge pond. Sunny played and played and played; he played every chance he got. He played so much in fact that Isabel and her parents felt as if they were no longer living with an individual. Isabel went as far as writing a letter to Sonny’s brother expressing to him how living with Sonny and the piano was nothing like living with a human being, but more of along the lines of living with a sound. Sonny devoted all of his time to the piano, so much time in fact that he was failing at school. He pretended to go to school to keep Isabel’s parents of his back. Eventually they found out and confronted Sonny about the truancies at school. Isabel’s mother infuriated, rightfully so, yell at sunny throughout the dispute. Isabel’s parents had reached Sonny on a level that no one ever had prior to this point. They had penetrated the cloud that Sonny seemed to live in.
“He could hardly help the feeling that they had stripped him naked and where sitting on his nakedness”, and Sonny could not have that. Sonny did not play the piano that day or any other day for that matter. Over the course of the next few days Isabel described the silence as deafening, louder than any other sound that Sonny had played since time began. She had not seen or heard from sunny for a few days. One morning she was in his room and noticed that all his records where gone. There was no doubt in her mind she knew Sonny was gone also. Sunny Joined the Navy, maybe out of curiosity or maybe out of urge to travel the world and set out to embark on a voyage of independence; his intensions were not clear. No one had heard from Sonny for a while until he felt the need to send his brother a postcard from Greece. The brothers later reunited, after the war was over, in New York. Sonny and his brother were a few years older now.
If the Navy had done anything for good old Sonny boy it was reinforce his desires to become a famous jazz musician. Sonny’s brother, no matter how old Sonny grew, could never see him as a man. He did not appreciate the way Sonny carried himself, always in his own world excluding everyone from it, he did not take kind to any of Sonny’s friends and he thought that his music has a miserable excuse for the life style he choose to lead. The animosity from Sonny’s brother inevitably led to a fight that influenced Sonny to say to his brother that he wished to never speak to him again and that as far as he was concerned Sonny was dead to him. It seemed as if Sonny was tired of living under his brother’s preconceived notions and cruel judgments. Sonny felt as if it only held him back from his ultimate goal in life, the blues. I feel as though Sonny knew the words that came out of his mouth on that day of the fight, between he and his brother, were those sorely out of anger.
He knew he could never commit to what he had said. I feel as though Sonny throughout the story felt as if his mouth had written a check that his mind, body and soul were incapable of cashing. After all, they say the bond between siblings is the strongest bond of all. Some time had passed giving Sonny and his brother time to cool off, regain their composure and come to their senses. By then Sonny had moved back in with his brother, Isabel and niece. On one Saturday aftermoon Sonny’s brother had worked up the courage to spark up conversation, cautious not to upset Sonny, asking him about why he choose to live his life the way he did. Almost as to gain insight as to what ambitions Sonny had, what his plans were for his future and how he planned on achieving them. In the Narrators eyes Sonny could have been anything he wanted to be. Evidently Sonny’s brother had absolutely no idea that Sonny was who he wanted to be. Sonny connected with music in a way that his brother could never understand. Sonny felt somewhat appalled that his brother would ever attempt to judge something in which he knew very little about.
Sonny tried to describe to his brother the feeling that came over him when he heard people play the blues or when he sat in with them and played the blues, if even for a minute. He further explained to his brother as they sat sharing a beer that it felt exactly what it felt like to have heroine rushing through his veins. It was a euphoric feeling in which Sonny could only described as making him feel cold, warm, distant and in control all at the same time. Sonny lived for this feeling; it was the one feeling at the core of his existence. Like a drug addict coming down off of a two-week binge lusting for another hit, Sonny craved the high-pitched raspy voices and the low squeal of the snare drums. The conversation continued; Sonny felt as if he was making no headway with his brother. His brother was no closer to understanding the passion that Sonny had for the blues. A thought came to Sonny, almost like an epiphany, it was risky and bold but Sonny acted on it. Sonny asked his brother to accompany him to the village, at an establishment called the Joint, where he was performing later that night.
Sonny was nervous as he held a can of beer in his hand so firmly, that the beer can started to crimple like a piece of paper in a child’s hand. Sonny feared that that his brother might not appreciate the experience. Thoughts of rejection ran through his head, at which no point was he ever ready to confront, especially not from his brother. Sony felt in the depths of his soul that this was the only way, if he could ever get his brother to understand and view the blues, as he perceived it, this was it. As they headed to the Joint it was of no surprise to Sonny’s brother that it was located on a short, backstreet dark alley. They were greeted by a sterm big voice; it was Creole the night bouncer. Creole was excited to see Sonny, he jumped up, put an arm around Sonny’s shoulder and expressed, with much generosity, just how glad he was to see him. Sonny introduced his brother, “Creole, this is my brother, the one I have told you much about”. Creole shook Sonny’s brothers hand as if he were shaking the hand of royalty.
Sonny’s brother did not yet know what was happening all around him, for he was about to step in to a world which he knew nothing about, in which Sonny praised and looked at as God. Creole went on to say to Sonny’s brother “you have a real musician on your hands here”. Sonny’s brother was taken back by Creoles gesture thinking that Creole was only being generous because Sonny happened to be standing in their presence. Little did he know what the night had in store for him. Sonny and his brother made their way over to the bar squeezing by the narrow, chattering jampacked crowed in the main room where the bandstand was located. Sonny’s brother could not be more out of place if someone dressed him in a tutu and placed him, in the dead smack center of Yankee stadium, at the bottom of the ninth, with the eyes of the entire orld watching him. Sonny knew this; he could feel and sense brother’s uncertainty and nerve raking thought racing through his head.
As Sonny’s brother looked around, he noticed that almost everyone at the bar recognized, and in one fashion or another greeted and praised, Sonny. I feel as if this was the arch of the narration. This is where it all started to unravel; it all started to come loose. All of Sonny’s bother’s judgments and perspicacity’s started to feel, to him, as if they were no longer valid. It was at this point that Sonny’s brother understood and had no further doubt that this was Sonny’s home, this was Sonny’s kingdom and here Sonny’s veins bore royal blood. The band was setting up as few of the members horsed around, almost as if this helped them fight the jitters of having one hundred or more eyes balls piercing through their personal space, but not Sonny.
Sonny was as composed as ever, here Sonny was king and here Sonny could do no wrong. Creole called Sunny over to the stage; the band began to play. Sonny’s brother remembered vividly a woman’s voice from out of the crowd yell Sonny’s name as the crowed started clapping ceremoniously. Shortly after the band was finished Creole and Sonny started playing another song, it was Am I Blue. Sonny looked frightened, he was alone at the edge of his seat, with both hands on his piano; like someone in the middle of the ocean with no life jacket frantically reaching for a stationary object to keep their heads above water. Sonny’s brother remembered contemplating about how repulsive the relationship between a musician and his instrument must be. Sonny, shortly thereafter, regained his composure and the blues started to pour out of him. The band came together as one to form one harmonic sound; a sound that touched something in Creole; touched something in every single living soul that stood there listening to Sonny pour out his life story on that piano. Everyone gathered around Sonny. Sonny’s music filled the air with life, his life.
The music that Sonny created, with his fingers, was more than just music to Sonny’s brother. If was a bond between brothers; it was all the words that Sonny wanted to appraise to his brother but never found the proficiency to do it. It was the way they would cease lamenting. It was all the ups and downs in Sonny’s life. It was all the insecurities, in Sonny’s brother’s life, about Sonny. Freedom lurked around the corner for the both of them. Sonny’s brother understood now, finally, that all he had to do was listen and that Sonny would never be free, in his head, until he did. All Sunny was trying to do all along was live life through experience and expression. For, because of his experiences Sonny new he had to give them back. And he was giving them back, as everything must be given back, so that, in passing through death Sonny would live forever.
