Predominant among Morrison's themes is the presence of evil. The ghost of Beloved — an ironic name that might have had "Dearly" carved ahead of it on the tombstone if Sethe had allowed herself ten more minutes with the gravestone carver — makes itself felt in "turned-over slop jars, smacks on the behind, and gusts of sour air." Later, like a flesh-and-blood poltergeist, Beloved rests under a tree on the Thursday that Paul D, Sethe, and Denver return from the carnival. Shortly after, she creates unsubtle havoc by alienating Paul D from the two women he has begun to think of as family. However, like the table standing on three good legs and a reasonably stable repaired leg, the family, on the surface, appears strong enough to support daily demands.
In Morrison's own terms, the controlling theme of the novel is "how women negotiate or mediate between their nurturing compulsion to love the other, the thing that's bigger or better than they are in their lives — husband, children, work — and the other part, which is the individual separate self that has separate obligations." As Sethe confronts evil in herself and in the institution of slavery, motherhood itself rescues her from the oblivion of guilt, shame, and madness. Without the underloved ghost or the coddled, sheltered Denver, Sethe might have disintegrated from within, pulled apart by her "rememory." Instead, she takes refuge in love for her children, and she tentatively, excitedly acknowledges the ego that Paul D returns to nurture — "Me? Me?"
