De turkey and de law — Reading Companion

Dialect as Character and Conflict

The dialogue is rendered in a thick dialect that serves both character and comedy. Sister Taylor threatens to 'turn her every way but loose,' while Sister Lewis vows to 'ride her just like Jesus rode a jackass.' These lines are not merely colorful; they reveal the women's verbal dexterity and the escalating tension. The dialect also marks social boundaries: the Mayor speaks more standard English, contrasting with the villagers' vernacular. This linguistic divide underscores the power dynamics at play, as Clarke struggles to maintain order over a congregation that refuses to be silenced.

The Store Porch as Stage

Hurston's stage directions are precise and evocative. The store porch is described with 'axhandles, hoes and shovels, etc. displayed leaning against the wall,' grounding the comedy in material culture. The street is 'unpaved' with 'grass and weeds growing all over,' a detail that roots the play in a specific time and place. The porch functions as a theater within the theater: a public arena where gossip, flirtation, and confrontation occur. The bench on each side provides seating for observers, making the audience complicit in the village's scrutiny.

Comic Insults and Ritualized Aggression

The middle excerpt features a church scene where insults fly with rhythmic precision. Sister Lewis calls Sister Taylor a 'ole twist mouth 'oman,' while Taylor retorts that Lewis 'looks lak de Devil before day.' The men join in: Joe Lindsay mocks Taylor's missing teeth, and she fires back about his 'raw-boned horse.' These exchanges are not random; they follow a pattern of call-and-response, almost like a verbal duel. The characters' threats—'I'll beat you on everything you got but yo' tongue'—are hyperbolic and theatrical, suggesting that the conflict is as much performance as genuine anger.

The Gavel and the Mule Bone: Symbols of Authority

Mayor Clarke's search for the gavel is a running gag that undercuts his authority. When Lum returns with both the gavel and a mule bone, the juxtaposition is absurd. The bone, a relic from Hurston's earlier work 'Mule Bone,' hints at the play's folkloric roots. Clarke's frustration—'I God, Lum, you gointer stand there like a bump on a log'—shows his impotence. The women ignore his commands, and Lum is easily cowed by Sister Taylor's reminder that she 'pinned on' his diapers. Authority is constantly challenged, making the play a comedy of social disorder.

Readers should pay attention to how Hurston uses the stage directions to create a vivid sense of place, and how the dialect demands careful reading aloud to catch the rhythms. The play's structure—three acts, with the trial as a centerpiece—suggests a farcical examination of justice and community. The excerpts offer a taste of Hurston's ear for speech and her ability to turn everyday conflict into comedy.

Reading this companion, I remembered sitting on my grandmother’s porch while she laughed at the turkey’s scheming. That communal sound—her knowing chuckle, the neighbors’ murmurs—echoed when I later found Plays — Reading Notes. Both felt less like instruction and more like someone pulling up a chair, letting the dialect’s music wash over us before explaining why it mattered.