38 pages • 1-hour read
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Content Warning: This section of the guide discusses anti-Black racism and racist violence.
The unnamed narrator is a Black, male youth somewhere between adolescence and young adulthood. The entire text is not only from his perspective but is presented in such a way that it appears to be a facsimile of a personal journal or notebook he keeps. Overwhelmed by everything going on around him—the COVID-19 pandemic, widespread social unrest in response to police violence and systemic racism, and the ever-looming threat of climate change—he observes the pernicious impact these events are having on his family’s well-being.
Initially, he is annoyed by their responses to everything and feels that he is the only one who seems to realize they’re all suffocating—his mother and brother remain glued to their respective screens, while his sister is so concerned with what is going on outside the house that she is completely divorced from everything happening inside it. However, as the text progresses and the narrator feels the need to look for an oxygen mask, he soon realizes that the little idiosyncrasies, behaviors, and habits that had previously annoyed him actually hold the oxygen he needs. These things are signs of life that represent the shared memories and experiences he has with his family, along with their deep, unassailable bond. They give him the strength and hope he needs to keep pushing through the uncertainty, and they provide a sense of meaning and purpose in the seemingly perpetual cycle of negativity that surrounds him.
While looking for an oxygen mask, the narrator also realizes the important role that art plays in his psychological well-being. This form of oxygen comes from experiencing the art of others, such as “the books on the shelf / [his] mother’s been begging [them] to read” (286), “the bass that / makes [him] remember / [his] body is electric cool” (300), or “a good movie freshly watched” (278), or in creating art himself. The latter comes back to the presentation of the text itself: The fact the text feels like an actual artifact that was created during the height of the pandemic reinforces the idea that its creation was a part of the narrator’s way of coping with and processing the ongoing turmoil around him. The three-Breath structure of the text also builds on this idea. The narrator is a self-proclaimed “worrier,” and the deliberate, mindful breathing that ends each section strongly suggests someone who is trying to slow down and calm themself in response to the overwhelming cacophony of negativity that they’re inundated with on a daily basis.
The narrator’s mother spends the entire book glued to the TV, watching reruns of a negative news cycle that only talks about “how we won’t change the world / or the way we treat the world / or the way we treat each other” (7-10). She represents the way that catastrophes, such as the COVID-19 pandemic, and broader social injustice, like systemic racism and the police brutality that it enables and encourages, can overwhelm and consume people. She is so fearful and worried about what might happen to her family that she essentially stops living. It becomes a kind of self-sustaining feedback loop, and as a result, the perpetual feed of awful news stories only makes her worry even more.
This behavior not only has a negative impact on her but impacts the rest of the family as well. The omnipresent negativity of the news begins to impact the narrator’s state of mind, and he can’t understand why she won’t change the channel. There is also a strong impression—represented by every single depiction of the mother being from behind her as she stares at the TV—that she has completely withdrawn from the rest of the family. The significance of this becomes evident during the commercial break, when “the beginning / of the beginning / of a laugh / that never even bloomed” becomes the catalyst for the narrator’s realization that he can find oxygen in his family (250-55). It prompts him to reassess what is important, and when the news comes back on, and the entire family is sitting together, he has the strength and optimism to think they might get through things. This is also the only time the mother is depicted from the front—suggesting her importance to the family—and with everyone together, the narrator finally speaks up about changing the channel.
The narrator’s father first appears in Breath Two and is self-isolating in a bedroom because he is sick. He is bedridden, damp with sweat, and has a severe cough that the narrator is struggling to comprehend. The narrator spends a lot of time trying to describe the cough and the way his father looks as he comes to terms with his father’s sickness. A lot of the descriptions use metaphors comparing the cough to thunder or out-of-tune musical instruments, and nearly all of the artistic depictions of his father focus on his chest and throat, emphasizing how concerned the narrator is about his father’s health.
Despite his poor condition, the father remains positive and attempts to lift his son’s spirit. While Ain’t Burned All the Bright uses a lot of red and blues to depict the abject state of the world and its negative impact on the family’s mental health, yellow is used to represent hope, relief, and love. Yellow is closely associated with the narrator’s father and the reassurance he provides. For instance, there is a bright yellow sun depicted in the artwork when the father smiles and holds up his arms as if to hug the narrator from a distance. While this stability may only be a projection of strength and hope—the sun is followed by an image of a thunderstorm because the narrator can tell his father is suppressing a cough and trying to keep his smile from cracking—it underscores the father’s resilience and how he embodies one of the core ideals of the text: No matter how bad things get, “the fever / ain’t burned / all his bright up yet” (136-37).
The narrator’s brother spends the entire book refusing to look away from the video game he is playing. Compared to the chaotic depictions of the real world (which is constantly on fire or underwater and rendered in harsh reds and dark blues), the video game he plays is depicted as calm, serene, and even idyllic. It uses lush greens, has clear blue skies, and the houses and roads are ordered and pristine. While this suggests the brother is retreating to this virtual world as an escape from all the terrible things happening in the real world, the frantic movement of his hands while he plays the game “as he fights / for an extra life” implies that this calmness is a facade and not a sustainable means of coping (87-89). Broadly, the brother represents the impulse to look away from things that are unpleasant or uncomfortable—to maintain a state of willful ignorance because it feels easier to refuse to acknowledge reality than it is to accept and process it.
Toward the end of the book, the narrator jabs his elbow into his brother’s ribs again and finally gets his attention. His brother puts down the game, and the two begin to tussle. Their fight starts a chain reaction of the other family members reacting to or intervening in their fight. The fight also feels like it might “knock the wind into [the narrator]” (321)—the opposite effect of what would normally happen—and aligns it with the kind of everyday, previously annoying but now life-affirming occurrence that the narrator has just learned to appreciate. The fight represents a return to the mundane normalcy of family life and pulls each family member out of their isolation to break them up. Importantly, once the fight is broken up, instead of going back into their isolated coping, the family sits together on the couch, and the narrator finally feels a sense of hope for the future and speaks up about changing the channel.
The narrator’s sister has an opposite response to the terrible events going on around them as her mother and (video game-playing) brother. While they each become frozen by the state of the world—the mother being unable to look away, and the brother refusing to look at all—the sister’s reaction is to fight. Her rebellious spirit is mirrored in the description of the “fuzz and frizz of [her hair] / that grows and grows / like wildfire” (303-05), and she constantly yearns to break free and fight for what she believes in. The imagery that accompanies this final line is of a flame being held by an outstretched hand, and it is the only instance where fire isn’t used to reinforce or evoke something negative. Her flame is one of hope, resilience, and strength, one that refuses to burn out despite the oppressive forces against it.
The narrator also uses his sister and the conversation she is having with her friend to address the Black Lives Matter movement and the burgeoning protests that are occurring around the country. They discuss why people are taking to the streets, what they are fighting for, and the challenges their social movement faces. Their conversation also forces the narrator to reckon with the tension that comes from feeling the need to publicly protest during a pandemic, when going out into the streets to fight for justice means endangering yourself in more than one way.
While the sister’s response to everything is more positive than her brother's and mother's, there is also the sense that she has completely removed herself from life at home. She is so focused on joining the protests that like her mother and brother, she has isolated herself in a way that isn’t conducive to long-term health and well-being. Thus, while she represents a desire to fight back and be politically active, she also demonstrates that this should not come at the cost of family connections and responsibilities at home.



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