"I regret all of my books"

Zora Neale Hurston, renowned for her vivid portrayals of Black life in early 20th century America, gives pause with the terse admission, “I regret all of my books.” On its surface, the statement surprises, coming from a writer whose works, such as *Their Eyes Were Watching God*, have achieved canonical status and offered invaluable insight into Black culture and womanhood. Yet, beneath the apparent repudiation lies a complex relationship between creation and its aftermath, one that many writers and artists experience.

Hurston’s regret could reflect the inherent vulnerability and cost embedded in artistic expression. Writing, for her, was an act of brave honesty, carving out a space for Black voices and dialects often dismissed by dominant society. Each book demanded a measure of her inner life, her reputation, and even her standing among peers. To have published is to have exposed oneself to both praise and censure, to misinterpretation, to the possibility that one’s work may never be understood as intended. Hurston, who faced significant criticism, particularly from other Black intellectuals of her era, often stood at the margins, dismissed or misread by those she hoped would be her champions.

Moreover, saying she regrets her books may point to an artist’s perennial disappointment, the distance between intention and execution. No matter how skilled the writer, the final work seldom matches the private vision. Books, once written, fail to express every shade of emotion or truth their creators wish to impart, and this failure is keenly felt by their authors. Hurston, fiercely original, might have felt her books always fell short of the boldness or clarity she envisioned.

Alternatively, regret may also stem from the consequences of authorship: the risk of being defined by one's work, the intrusion into personal privacy, or the exhaustion of fighting for recognition. For Hurston, whose later years were overshadowed by obscurity and financial trouble, her books perhaps marked reminders not just of triumph but of longing, missed opportunities, and the unresolved struggle for acceptance.