The mood throughout The Souls of Black Folk is somber, and rightfully so, given its content. This remains fairly consistent over the course of the book, with brief shifts into more informative sections that are relatively neutral when it comes to mood.
In the particularly somber Chapter 11, Du Bois relays his emotions upon the birth of his first child:
Within the Veil was he born, said I; and there within shall he live, —a Negro and a Negro's son. Holding in that little head—ah, bitterly!—the unbowed pride of a hunted race, clinging with that tiny dimpled hand—ah, wearily!—to a hope not hopeless but unhopeful, and seeing with those bright wondering eyes that peer into my soul a land whose freedom is to us a mockery and whose liberty is a lie.
The mood here—and throughout the rest of the book—is indeed somber and bleak. Du Bois does not let up from this mood, nor should he; for if he did, he would not be accurately portraying the fear, anger, exhaustion, and heartbreak experienced by so many Black Americans living under abject oppression in their own country. It is difficult to read such a bleak work; but its constant solemnity is absolutely necessary to achieving Du Bois's literary and political goals.
