The epigraph's powerful image of men seeking to escape conventional boundaries and limitations, leaving behind their children and the women who love them, is the first of many instances of escape found in the novel. Ironically, instead of viewing this phenomenon as inherently tragic, Morrison describes it as "a part of black life, a positive, majestic thing." Consequently, she depicts these men not as traitors or deserters but as strong, adventurous spirits responding to a powerful urge to move on and be free even if their children must ultimately pay the price for the fathers' wandering ways. But absentee fathers can leave a strong legacy for their children: As long as children "know their names" — that is, know who their fathers, their ancestors, are — they can cope with the potentially crippling handicap of being raised without a father. As Morrison explains in a candid New York Times interview, "The fathers may soar, they may leave, but the children know who they are; they remember, half in glory and half in accusation. That is one of the points of Song: all the men have left someone, and it is the children who remember it, sing about it, mythologize it, make it a part of their family history."
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