It’s not the Heat; It’s the Metaphor
Funny thing about language: sometimes it has the power to transform the effects of the natural world. Think about it, what makes you dread going outside more: being told it’s sunny and warm outside or being told stepping out the front door is like walking into an oven?
“The midsummer heat swallows me up as soon as I leave the truck. Even in the shade of the few trees between the road and the house, the heated breeze is like a blow-dryer pointed directly in my face. By the time I jog up to the front door, I’m already sweating.”
Understated Repetition
Generally speaking, using the same word twice in a metaphorical image is considered pretty bad form. There are occasions, however, where it is precisely the power of the understated repetition that makes the metaphorical imagery pop. Such as, for example:
“Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says, smiling as if he literally just invented smiling right in this very moment.
Sports
Athletics are always a rich mine to pick away at in search of nuggets of metaphorical gold. Especially when the demographic of the literary creation is young males. Sports-related metaphors and that readership is what is known in the business as a sure thing:
“This isn’t like the alley on Cortelyou. The whole world is my field! I charge ahead as if this is the World Cup and I’m going for the game-winning goal, ripping through webbed trenches and caverns, the defenders who can’t stop my flight.”
Black Boy Joy
Surprisingly, not a lot of metaphors are related to the joy felt by the black boys that populate the book. Actually, it’s not that surprising at all, really, since the stories here are composed by multiple authors and thus there is no real coherence at explicitly pursuing the theme expressed in the title. Every once in a while, however, joy does pop up metaphorically:
“It’s not jazz music but it is a kind of jazz, I think, to help people improvise, transform into a place where there aren’t mistakes, only a masterpiece changing directions, and that makes the joy bloom in my chest all over again.”
Girls
Don’t let the title fool you. Although the protagonists of the stories are all black boys looking for their own particular joy, the stories are populated by a plethora of girls. And girls always inspire boys—well, not all boys—to reach for metaphorical flights of fancy:
“Since when did her cheeks get rosy? I’ve known her for seven years and this is the first time I’ve seen this happen—maybe it’s just a coincidence. Maybe Mia’s cheeks glowing is a once-every-seven-year phenomenon like some comet falling or a planet suddenly appearing brightly in the sky.”
