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Sula
Sula and Nel are two young black girls: clever and poor. They grow up together sharing their secrets, dreams and happiness. Then Sula breaks free from their small-town community in the uplands of Ohio to roam the cities of America. When she returns ten years later much has changed. Including Nel, who now has a husband and three children. The friendship between the two women becomes strained and the whole town grows wary as Sula continues in her wayward, vagabond and uncompromising ways.
189 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1973
4,563 people are currently reading
150k people want to read
About the author
Toni Morrison
225听books22k听followersChloe Anthony Wofford Morrison, known as Toni Morrison, was an American novelist and editor. Her first novel, The Bluest Eye, was published in 1970. The critically acclaimed Song of Solomon (1977) brought her national attention and won the National Book Critics Circle Award. In 1988, Morrison won the Pulitzer Prize for Beloved (1987); she was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1993.
Born and raised in Lorain, Ohio, Morrison graduated from Howard University in 1953 with a B.A. in English. Morrison earned a master's degree in American Literature from Cornell University in 1955. In 1957 she returned to Howard University, was married, and had two children before divorcing in 1964. Morrison became the first black female editor for fiction at Random House in New York City in the late 1960s. She developed her own reputation as an author in the 1970s and '80s. Her novel Beloved was made into a film in 1998. Morrison's works are praised for addressing the harsh consequences of racism in the United States and the Black American experience.
The National Endowment for the Humanities selected Morrison for the Jefferson Lecture, the U.S. federal government's highest honor for achievement in the humanities, in 1996. She was honored with the National Book Foundation's Medal of Distinguished Contribution to American Letters the same year. President Barack Obama presented her with the Presidential Medal of Freedom on May 29, 2012. She received the PEN/Saul Bellow Award for Achievement in American Fiction in 2016. Morrison was inducted into the National Women's Hall of Fame in 2020.
Born and raised in Lorain, Ohio, Morrison graduated from Howard University in 1953 with a B.A. in English. Morrison earned a master's degree in American Literature from Cornell University in 1955. In 1957 she returned to Howard University, was married, and had two children before divorcing in 1964. Morrison became the first black female editor for fiction at Random House in New York City in the late 1960s. She developed her own reputation as an author in the 1970s and '80s. Her novel Beloved was made into a film in 1998. Morrison's works are praised for addressing the harsh consequences of racism in the United States and the Black American experience.
The National Endowment for the Humanities selected Morrison for the Jefferson Lecture, the U.S. federal government's highest honor for achievement in the humanities, in 1996. She was honored with the National Book Foundation's Medal of Distinguished Contribution to American Letters the same year. President Barack Obama presented her with the Presidential Medal of Freedom on May 29, 2012. She received the PEN/Saul Bellow Award for Achievement in American Fiction in 2016. Morrison was inducted into the National Women's Hall of Fame in 2020.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 9,951 reviews
February 18, 2025
every book i read this year that isn't by toni morrison is against my will.
it was a year听in which i read my first toni morrison book, and then i read 6 more of them.
there is nobody, absolutely nobody, like her.
morrison's writing is up in the clouds, filled with turns of phrase and plot that in any other narrative would be nonsensical, and yet it is unceasingly, unmercifully, constantly grounded in reality. the ways in which it moves toward the fantastical serve only to tell us in full detail of the pain of life 鈥� the selfish foolishness of people, the cruel machinations of an unequal听society, the moving target of contentment.听
i'm writing having finished her most canonical works, having听5 starred her four most read masterpieces all in a row. i have never in my life encountered an author i feel this way about.听
my lesson of 2024 is that toni morrison is the great american author.
bottom line: all i can say is do what i did: read everything.
it was a year听in which i read my first toni morrison book, and then i read 6 more of them.
there is nobody, absolutely nobody, like her.
morrison's writing is up in the clouds, filled with turns of phrase and plot that in any other narrative would be nonsensical, and yet it is unceasingly, unmercifully, constantly grounded in reality. the ways in which it moves toward the fantastical serve only to tell us in full detail of the pain of life 鈥� the selfish foolishness of people, the cruel machinations of an unequal听society, the moving target of contentment.听
i'm writing having finished her most canonical works, having听5 starred her four most read masterpieces all in a row. i have never in my life encountered an author i feel this way about.听
my lesson of 2024 is that toni morrison is the great american author.
bottom line: all i can say is do what i did: read everything.
January 3, 2024
Toni Morrison, the writer that you are. God.
鈥淐ould he be gone if his tie is still here? He will remember it and come back and then she would鈥h. Then she could鈥ell him. Sit down quietly and tell him. 鈥淏ut Jude,鈥� she would say, 鈥測ou knew me. All those days and years, Jude, you knew me. My ways and my hands and how my stomach folded and how we tried to get Mickey to nurse and how about that time when the landlord said鈥ut you said鈥nd I cried, Jude. You knew me and had listened to the things I said in the night, and heard me in the bathroom and laughed at my raggedy girdle and I laughed too because I knew you too, Jude. So how could you leave me when you knew me?鈥�
August 6, 2018
Because each had discovered years before that they were neither white nor male, and that all freedom and triumph was forbidden to them, they had set about creating something else to be.
4 1/2 stars. I have known for some time that I haven't read enough . Before , I had only read , which is also a great book. Reading this, I can't understand what took me so long to pick up another.
Toni Morrison's writing is frank and uncompromising. She creates characters who burn with an inextinguishable fire, and she does it through a series of carefully-written moments; ugly, heartbreaking scenes that somehow capture a person, a time, a place or an injustice in full.
is, at times, a strange book; it is about an intense, complicated relationship between two black women - Sula and Nel - from the 1920s to the 1940s. I could tell immediately that it was the kind of book I love: small town politics and gossip, intricate relationship dynamics, and gritty no-holds-barred storytelling.
It's a short, hard-hitting story that I would call a bildungsroman if that didn't seem a little trite. But it's essentially about Nel and Sula growing up - surrounded by racism, injustice and segregation - and becoming women, discovering their sexuality in very different ways, and living very different lives. Their close friendship is pulled apart by an act that is at once straight-forward, unforgivable without question, but also complex and multilayered.
Sula is a fascinating character. Bold, brash, unlikable in some ways... but it is hard not to feel deeply for her. This is a book that in less than two hundred pages takes you deep into the despair and loneliness of life in the Bottom, and at the centre of this is Sula herself.
Morrison is just one of those authors that seems to understand certain aspects of life and human nature better than the rest of us. I can't wait to read and .
| | | |
February 14, 2021
looking for great books to read during black history month...and the other eleven months? i'm going to float some of my favorites throughout the month, and i hope they will find new readers!
thanks for this book.
Because each had discovered years before that they were neither white nor male, and that all freedom and triumph was forbidden to them, they had set about creating something else to be.
this one gets 4 "please don't hit me again, sula!" stars.
and honestly, for more than half of it, it was leaning towards 5 stars, and not just because of stockholm syndrome.
i have never read toni morrison before. her name was at the top of my "authors i have never read, much to my great personal shame" list along with tolstoy, balzac, alice munro, etc. and before this book, my impression of her was that she was a very rigidly literary american author who wrote important books about important themes that were technically masterful, but took themselves very seriously and were probably not much fun to read.
well.
that is not the case with this one, at least.
right from the get-go, i was smitten. it was all the things i loved - it was , it was grit lit, it was smalltown gossip and neighborly scrutiny, it was the ingenuity of the disenfranchised, it was the sun rising like a hot white bitch, and best of all, it was FUN! but, like, my kind of fun, where people get set on fire and playtime ends in a body count. this is v.c. andrews without the incest!
and now i understand why this book kept injuring me - does NOT play nice. it is a rough book full of rough things too potent to be contained between the covers of the book itself. or maybe the book was just trying to get my attention because it knew i would like it so much. either way, it was worth the price of a few battle scars marking me like sula herself, whose birthmark gives her face a broken excitement.
to me, this book was absolute perfection when it was focused on the childhood friendship of sula and nel, but it lost something once they grew up. which is a shame, because the childhood parts were SO GOOD. she writes the intensity of nel and sula's intertwining perfectly:
They never quarreled, those two, the way some girlfriends did over boys, or competed against each other for them. In those days, a compliment to one was a compliment to the other, and cruelty to one was a challenge to the other.
and she captures that transition from girlhood to half-understood sexuality wonderfully:
It was in that summer, the summer of their twelfth year, the summer of the beautiful black boys, that they became skittish, frightened and bold - all at the same time.
although i do have to say, her overreliance on the word "beautiful" as a descriptor for men and boys is grating. eeeevery man is beautiful, which is statistically improbable, and it's also lazy wordsmithing in someone who has proven herself to be much better than that.
but back to the sexxy bits, because you know i'm not into romance or erotica unless it involves all the hilarious ways a human can copulate with a monster or a tater tot or something like that. but human-on-human gyrations tend to leave me cold. however, while it doesn't involve actual intercourse, her descriptions of sula and nel at twelve, wishbone thin and easy-assed, walking to the ice cream store through the gauntlet of men who are themselves passing the time sitting on stoops watching women walk by, through this valley of eyes chilled by the wind and heated by the embarrassment of appraising stares, knowing and not-knowing their effect, delighted and ashamed all at once, and despite the fact that it's totally gross to call a situation in which men in their twenties up through to elderly gentlemen are ogling twelve-year-old girls "hot," still, there's something here that worked on me the way no fifty shades of story of o has, and it comes from the perspective of the girls themselves, and the mysteries of what they have yet to experience:
so you see why i'm frustrated by her repetition of "beautiful" when she can pull off such superior writing. even her descriptions of nature become erotic, although this passage has more of that b-word gumming up the works:
Then summer came. A summer limp with the weight of blossomed things. Heavy sunflowers weeping over fences; iris curling and browning at the edges far away from their purple hearts; ears of corn letting their auburn hair wind down to their stalks. And the boys. The beautiful, beautiful boys who dotted the landscape like jewels, split the air with their shouts in the field, and thickened the river with their shining wet backs. Even their footsteps left a smell of smoke behind.
very saucy stuff, that.
so, yeah - i really loved this book. i loved the final third less than the beginning, because i didn't really understand what i was meant to be getting out of the story's turn, but it was still excellent writing, and it closed very nicely, so it's an easy four stars, and immunity granted for all injuries sustained.
**
okay, i finished the book. if it lets me live long enough, i will review it soon.
**
IMPORTANT UPDATE: A SECOND ASSAULT UPON MY PERSON BY THIS BOOK:
okay, so here's something weird. i started this book yesterday, and read several chapters just before bed. when i woke up, i had this gigantic bruise on my eyelid:
i have no memory of any trauma to my eye (and i am eye-attack-phobic, so i'd remember) and i wear my glasses all day, which protects me from such trauma. the only way this could have happened would have been when my glasses were off, while i was asleep. when my glasses were off, while i was asleep, WITH THIS BOOK NEXT TO ME IN BED.
seriously, sula - what's your beef with me?
although i gotta say, i like how it makes me look like i'm wearing fancy new wave eyeshadow.
**
the final book in my :
蝉耻濒补鈥�.
here's the story with me and sula. long ago, when i was working at barnes and noble and we hosted the new yorker festival every year, i was in the back room on the fourth floor, gathering books to restock the festival displays. while i was grabbing books from a shelf far above my head with my monkey-arms, a hardcover copy of sula slipped from the stack and its very solid lower spine-corner hit me right in the center of my skull with all the force of gravity and book-malice behind it. naturally, i yelled "FUCK YOU, SULA," and naturally i vowed never to read that book, ever. but then this box-thing happened, and now i have to read it, regardless of the abuse i have suffered at its hands. fortunately, this is a paperback, and it is not as tough as its momma. i remain vigilant - i could still get papercuts, after all鈥�
thanks for this book.
Because each had discovered years before that they were neither white nor male, and that all freedom and triumph was forbidden to them, they had set about creating something else to be.
this one gets 4 "please don't hit me again, sula!" stars.
and honestly, for more than half of it, it was leaning towards 5 stars, and not just because of stockholm syndrome.
i have never read toni morrison before. her name was at the top of my "authors i have never read, much to my great personal shame" list along with tolstoy, balzac, alice munro, etc. and before this book, my impression of her was that she was a very rigidly literary american author who wrote important books about important themes that were technically masterful, but took themselves very seriously and were probably not much fun to read.
well.
that is not the case with this one, at least.
right from the get-go, i was smitten. it was all the things i loved - it was , it was grit lit, it was smalltown gossip and neighborly scrutiny, it was the ingenuity of the disenfranchised, it was the sun rising like a hot white bitch, and best of all, it was FUN! but, like, my kind of fun, where people get set on fire and playtime ends in a body count. this is v.c. andrews without the incest!
and now i understand why this book kept injuring me - does NOT play nice. it is a rough book full of rough things too potent to be contained between the covers of the book itself. or maybe the book was just trying to get my attention because it knew i would like it so much. either way, it was worth the price of a few battle scars marking me like sula herself, whose birthmark gives her face a broken excitement.
to me, this book was absolute perfection when it was focused on the childhood friendship of sula and nel, but it lost something once they grew up. which is a shame, because the childhood parts were SO GOOD. she writes the intensity of nel and sula's intertwining perfectly:
They never quarreled, those two, the way some girlfriends did over boys, or competed against each other for them. In those days, a compliment to one was a compliment to the other, and cruelty to one was a challenge to the other.
and she captures that transition from girlhood to half-understood sexuality wonderfully:
It was in that summer, the summer of their twelfth year, the summer of the beautiful black boys, that they became skittish, frightened and bold - all at the same time.
although i do have to say, her overreliance on the word "beautiful" as a descriptor for men and boys is grating. eeeevery man is beautiful, which is statistically improbable, and it's also lazy wordsmithing in someone who has proven herself to be much better than that.
but back to the sexxy bits, because you know i'm not into romance or erotica unless it involves all the hilarious ways a human can copulate with a monster or a tater tot or something like that. but human-on-human gyrations tend to leave me cold. however, while it doesn't involve actual intercourse, her descriptions of sula and nel at twelve, wishbone thin and easy-assed, walking to the ice cream store through the gauntlet of men who are themselves passing the time sitting on stoops watching women walk by, through this valley of eyes chilled by the wind and heated by the embarrassment of appraising stares, knowing and not-knowing their effect, delighted and ashamed all at once, and despite the fact that it's totally gross to call a situation in which men in their twenties up through to elderly gentlemen are ogling twelve-year-old girls "hot," still, there's something here that worked on me the way no fifty shades of story of o has, and it comes from the perspective of the girls themselves, and the mysteries of what they have yet to experience:
It was not really Edna Finch's ice cream that made them brave the stretch of those panther eyes. Years later their own eyes would glaze as they cupped their chins in remembrance of the inchworm smiles, the squatting haunches, the track-rail legs straddling broken chairs. The cream-colored trousers marking with a mere seam the place where the mystery curled. Those smooth vanilla crotches invited them; those lemon-yellow gabardines beckoned to them.
They moved toward the ice-cream parlor like tightrope walkers, as thrilled by the possibility of a slip as by the maintenance of tension and balance. The least sideways glance, the merest toe stub, could pitch them into those creamy haunches spread wide with welcome. Somewhere beneath all of that daintiness, chambered in all that neatness, lay the thing that clotted their dreams.
so you see why i'm frustrated by her repetition of "beautiful" when she can pull off such superior writing. even her descriptions of nature become erotic, although this passage has more of that b-word gumming up the works:
Then summer came. A summer limp with the weight of blossomed things. Heavy sunflowers weeping over fences; iris curling and browning at the edges far away from their purple hearts; ears of corn letting their auburn hair wind down to their stalks. And the boys. The beautiful, beautiful boys who dotted the landscape like jewels, split the air with their shouts in the field, and thickened the river with their shining wet backs. Even their footsteps left a smell of smoke behind.
very saucy stuff, that.
so, yeah - i really loved this book. i loved the final third less than the beginning, because i didn't really understand what i was meant to be getting out of the story's turn, but it was still excellent writing, and it closed very nicely, so it's an easy four stars, and immunity granted for all injuries sustained.
**
okay, i finished the book. if it lets me live long enough, i will review it soon.
**
IMPORTANT UPDATE: A SECOND ASSAULT UPON MY PERSON BY THIS BOOK:
okay, so here's something weird. i started this book yesterday, and read several chapters just before bed. when i woke up, i had this gigantic bruise on my eyelid:
i have no memory of any trauma to my eye (and i am eye-attack-phobic, so i'd remember) and i wear my glasses all day, which protects me from such trauma. the only way this could have happened would have been when my glasses were off, while i was asleep. when my glasses were off, while i was asleep, WITH THIS BOOK NEXT TO ME IN BED.
seriously, sula - what's your beef with me?
although i gotta say, i like how it makes me look like i'm wearing fancy new wave eyeshadow.
**
the final book in my :
蝉耻濒补鈥�.
here's the story with me and sula. long ago, when i was working at barnes and noble and we hosted the new yorker festival every year, i was in the back room on the fourth floor, gathering books to restock the festival displays. while i was grabbing books from a shelf far above my head with my monkey-arms, a hardcover copy of sula slipped from the stack and its very solid lower spine-corner hit me right in the center of my skull with all the force of gravity and book-malice behind it. naturally, i yelled "FUCK YOU, SULA," and naturally i vowed never to read that book, ever. but then this box-thing happened, and now i have to read it, regardless of the abuse i have suffered at its hands. fortunately, this is a paperback, and it is not as tough as its momma. i remain vigilant - i could still get papercuts, after all鈥�
February 29, 2016
"Then summer came. A summer limp with the weight of blossoming things. Heavy sunflowers weeping over fences; iris curling and browning at the edges far away from their purple hearts; ears of corn letting their auburn hair wind down to their stalks. And the boys. The beautiful, beautiful boys who dotted the landscape like jewels, split the air with their shouts in the field, and thickened the river with their shining wet backs. Even their footsteps left a smell of smoke behind."- Toni Morrison, Sula
This is a captivating book about the friendship between two girls (Sula and Nel) with very different personalities. Despite the fact that Sula is the titular character, we're not introduced to her until halfway through the book. Before that we have the opportunity to discover the poor black community where most of the action will take place, and think more about PTSD in the lives of black American soldiers, while waiting for the central story. In particular, the description of Bottom and how it affects the people who live there sets the stage:
"What was taken by outsiders to be slackness, slovenliness or even generosity was in fact a full recognition of the legitimacy of forces other than good ones. They did not believe doctors could heal鈥攆or them, none ever had done so. They did not believe death was accidental鈥攍ife might be, but death was deliberate. They did not believe Nature was ever askew鈥攐nly inconvenient. Plague and drought were as 鈥渘atural鈥� as springtime. If milk could curdle, God knows robins could fall. The purpose of evil was to survive it and they determined (without ever knowing they had made up their minds to do it) to survive floods, white people, tuberculosis, famine and ignorance. They knew anger well but not despair, and they didn鈥檛 stone sinners for the same reason they didn鈥檛 commit suicide鈥攊t was beneath them."
Because I'm reading Morrison's books in chronological order, and The Bluest Eye was read not too long ago, I was maybe more sensitive to the connections and similarities between the two books. In this book, as in The Bluest Eye, the theme of the two Americas emerges, in particular on the theme of parental love. What does love mean when you are a single black mother of three children, abandoned by your husband and living in a poor, black community? I kept going back to read the passage where Hannah is asking her mother, Eva, whether she had ever loved her, and Eva replied, "You settin' here with your healthy-ass self and ax me did I love you? Them big old eyes in your head would a been two holes full of maggots if I hadn't." And also:
"Play? Wasn't nobody playin' in 1895. Just 'cause you got it good now you think it was always this good?"
This sentiment was so reminiscent of The Bluest Eye where the black mother showed her love to her children in somewhat gruff ways which weren't even recognized as love until those children were older. In a sense I feel they were too busy to focus on love as most of us envision it, focusing all their attention on survival instead.
I'm still quite conflicted about Sula, although my opinion of her has softened over the years as I myself have gained more empathy through age and personal experiences. In many ways I sympathize with her; she is smart, a rebel of sorts, doesn't like traditional expectations of women, and is very unconventional. She tries to forge her own life, even gaining the courage to leave Bottom. But something is missing in her and Morrison tells us that Sula "had no center, no speck around which to grow." Despite this Morrison is not judgmental in how she portrays her, and it led me to empathizing with her role as an outsider, living in a small community with a small-town mentality :
"In a way, her strangeness, her naivete, her craving for the other half of her equation was the consequence of an idle imagination. Had she paints, or clay, or knew the discipline of the dance, or strings; had she anything to engage her tremendous curiosity and her gift for metaphor, she might have exchanged the relentlessness and preoccupation with whim for an activity that provided her with all she yearned for. And like any artist with no art form, she became dangerous."
Although Morrison focuses mainly on the lives of black girls and women in her writing, she also spares a thought to black men. She looks at black masculinity, particularly in the kind of environment that constrains the lives and movement of black people, and what that manifests as:
"So it was rage, rage and a determination to take on a man's role anyhow that made him press Nel about settling down. He needed some of his appetites filled, some posture of adulthood recognized, but mostly he wanted someone to care about his hurt, to care very deeply. Deep enough to hold him, deep enough to rock him, deep enough to ask, 鈥淗ow you feel? You all right? Want some coffee?鈥� And if he were to be a man, that someone could no longer be his mother. He chose the girl who had always been kind, who had never seemed hell-bent to marry, who made the whole venture seem like his idea, his conquest."
In the end, I really enjoyed this book more than I did a decade ago when I first read it. And I'm awed by how much Morrison can pack into a novella of this size.
This is a captivating book about the friendship between two girls (Sula and Nel) with very different personalities. Despite the fact that Sula is the titular character, we're not introduced to her until halfway through the book. Before that we have the opportunity to discover the poor black community where most of the action will take place, and think more about PTSD in the lives of black American soldiers, while waiting for the central story. In particular, the description of Bottom and how it affects the people who live there sets the stage:
"What was taken by outsiders to be slackness, slovenliness or even generosity was in fact a full recognition of the legitimacy of forces other than good ones. They did not believe doctors could heal鈥攆or them, none ever had done so. They did not believe death was accidental鈥攍ife might be, but death was deliberate. They did not believe Nature was ever askew鈥攐nly inconvenient. Plague and drought were as 鈥渘atural鈥� as springtime. If milk could curdle, God knows robins could fall. The purpose of evil was to survive it and they determined (without ever knowing they had made up their minds to do it) to survive floods, white people, tuberculosis, famine and ignorance. They knew anger well but not despair, and they didn鈥檛 stone sinners for the same reason they didn鈥檛 commit suicide鈥攊t was beneath them."
Because I'm reading Morrison's books in chronological order, and The Bluest Eye was read not too long ago, I was maybe more sensitive to the connections and similarities between the two books. In this book, as in The Bluest Eye, the theme of the two Americas emerges, in particular on the theme of parental love. What does love mean when you are a single black mother of three children, abandoned by your husband and living in a poor, black community? I kept going back to read the passage where Hannah is asking her mother, Eva, whether she had ever loved her, and Eva replied, "You settin' here with your healthy-ass self and ax me did I love you? Them big old eyes in your head would a been two holes full of maggots if I hadn't." And also:
"Play? Wasn't nobody playin' in 1895. Just 'cause you got it good now you think it was always this good?"
This sentiment was so reminiscent of The Bluest Eye where the black mother showed her love to her children in somewhat gruff ways which weren't even recognized as love until those children were older. In a sense I feel they were too busy to focus on love as most of us envision it, focusing all their attention on survival instead.
I'm still quite conflicted about Sula, although my opinion of her has softened over the years as I myself have gained more empathy through age and personal experiences. In many ways I sympathize with her; she is smart, a rebel of sorts, doesn't like traditional expectations of women, and is very unconventional. She tries to forge her own life, even gaining the courage to leave Bottom. But something is missing in her and Morrison tells us that Sula "had no center, no speck around which to grow." Despite this Morrison is not judgmental in how she portrays her, and it led me to empathizing with her role as an outsider, living in a small community with a small-town mentality :
"In a way, her strangeness, her naivete, her craving for the other half of her equation was the consequence of an idle imagination. Had she paints, or clay, or knew the discipline of the dance, or strings; had she anything to engage her tremendous curiosity and her gift for metaphor, she might have exchanged the relentlessness and preoccupation with whim for an activity that provided her with all she yearned for. And like any artist with no art form, she became dangerous."
Although Morrison focuses mainly on the lives of black girls and women in her writing, she also spares a thought to black men. She looks at black masculinity, particularly in the kind of environment that constrains the lives and movement of black people, and what that manifests as:
"So it was rage, rage and a determination to take on a man's role anyhow that made him press Nel about settling down. He needed some of his appetites filled, some posture of adulthood recognized, but mostly he wanted someone to care about his hurt, to care very deeply. Deep enough to hold him, deep enough to rock him, deep enough to ask, 鈥淗ow you feel? You all right? Want some coffee?鈥� And if he were to be a man, that someone could no longer be his mother. He chose the girl who had always been kind, who had never seemed hell-bent to marry, who made the whole venture seem like his idea, his conquest."
In the end, I really enjoyed this book more than I did a decade ago when I first read it. And I'm awed by how much Morrison can pack into a novella of this size.
November 25, 2022
Loved every sentence of this re-read. I remember the first time I read Sula; I went in expecting an innocent and charming story about friendship from the small talk I had heard of the book. Nothing had prepared me for the complexity in the relationship between Sula and Nel; nothing had prepared me for the force that was Sula. I remember my initial feelings towards Sula: at first fascination, then shock, then almost-loathing, later understanding and loving, and, finally, missing her when all was done.
The story opens with a short description of the setting of the book. The Bottom, a Black neighbourhood in Ohio; the irony in its name; the history of the place; its attractions. The introduction is told in a reflective and nostalgic tone. Of a place distant, disappearing, and being gentrified. Then the story of the people of the place begins, focus being on Nel and Sula, two friends who love and need each other in various complex ways.
Toni Morrison says in her foreword to this book:
"Outlaw women are fascinating - not always for their behaviour, but because historically women are seen as disruptive and their status is an illegal one from birth if it is not under the rule of men. In much literature a woman's escape from male rule led to regret, misery, if not disaster. In Sula I wanted to explore the consequences of what that escape might be, on not only a conventional black society, but on female friendship. In 1969, in Queens, snatching liberty seemed compelling. Some of us thrived; some of us died. All of us had a taste."
Sula is an outlaw. A woman who lives fully for herself, with no apologies for it to the end. One of the stunning bits of dialogue from this book, the final conversation between Nel and Sula, Nel asks her what she has to show for the life she lived, to which Sula responds: "Show? To who? Girl, I got my mind. And what goes in it. Which is to say, I got me." To which Nel remarks, "Lonely, ain't it?" Sula's brilliant reply: "Yes. But my lonely is mine. Now your lonely is somebody else's. Made by somebody else and handed to you. Ain't that something? A secondhand lonely."
Re-reading this meant diving into the richness of this book all over again. The wonderful world that Morrison creates with the Bottom and its people, and the beauty of the language.
The story opens with a short description of the setting of the book. The Bottom, a Black neighbourhood in Ohio; the irony in its name; the history of the place; its attractions. The introduction is told in a reflective and nostalgic tone. Of a place distant, disappearing, and being gentrified. Then the story of the people of the place begins, focus being on Nel and Sula, two friends who love and need each other in various complex ways.
Toni Morrison says in her foreword to this book:
"Outlaw women are fascinating - not always for their behaviour, but because historically women are seen as disruptive and their status is an illegal one from birth if it is not under the rule of men. In much literature a woman's escape from male rule led to regret, misery, if not disaster. In Sula I wanted to explore the consequences of what that escape might be, on not only a conventional black society, but on female friendship. In 1969, in Queens, snatching liberty seemed compelling. Some of us thrived; some of us died. All of us had a taste."
Sula is an outlaw. A woman who lives fully for herself, with no apologies for it to the end. One of the stunning bits of dialogue from this book, the final conversation between Nel and Sula, Nel asks her what she has to show for the life she lived, to which Sula responds: "Show? To who? Girl, I got my mind. And what goes in it. Which is to say, I got me." To which Nel remarks, "Lonely, ain't it?" Sula's brilliant reply: "Yes. But my lonely is mine. Now your lonely is somebody else's. Made by somebody else and handed to you. Ain't that something? A secondhand lonely."
Re-reading this meant diving into the richness of this book all over again. The wonderful world that Morrison creates with the Bottom and its people, and the beauty of the language.
April 29, 2022
(Book 349 from 100 books) - Sula, Toni Morrison
Sula is a 1973 novel by Nobel Prize-winning author Toni Morrison, her second to be published after The Bluest Eye. Two girls who grow up to become women. Two friends who become something worse than enemies. In this brilliantly imagined novel, Toni Morrison tells the story of Nel Wright and Sula Peace, who meet as children in the small town of Medallion, Ohio.
鬲丕乇蹖禺 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 禺賵丕賳卮: 賴卮鬲賲 賲丕賴 爻倬鬲丕賲亘乇 爻丕賱2012賲蹖賱丕丿蹖
毓賳賵丕賳: 爻賵賱丕貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 鬲賵賳蹖 賲賵乇蹖爻賵賳貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 诏賱乇禺 爻毓蹖丿賳蹖丕貨 賵蹖乇丕爻鬲丕乇: 賮丕胤賲賴 鬲蹖賲賵乇蹖貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳卮乇 賯賱賴貙 爻丕賱1387貨 丿乇226氐貨 卮丕亘讴9649204806貨 賲賵囟賵毓: 丿丕爻鬲丕賳賴丕蹖 賳賵蹖爻賳丿诏丕賳 丕蹖丕賱丕鬲 賲鬲丨丿賴 丕賲乇蹖讴丕 - 爻丿賴20賲
爻賵賱丕貙 丕孬乇 芦鬲賵賳蹖 賲賵乇蹖爻賵賳禄貙 爻乇诏匕卮鬲 賵 夭賳丿诏蹖貙 賵 乇賲夭 賵 乇丕夭 丿賵爻鬲蹖 丿賵 夭賳 爻蹖丕賴 倬賵爻鬲 丕爻鬲貙 丿乇 芦丕賵賴丕蹖賵禄貙 夭賳丿诏蹖 芦爻賵賱丕禄貙 賵 丿賵爻鬲 毓夭蹖夭卮 芦賳賱禄貙 丕夭 讴賵丿讴蹖 鬲丕 亘賱賵睾貙 賵 丕夭 亘賱賵睾 鬲丕 賲乇诏 (丿乇诏匕卮鬲)貨 乇賲丕賳貙 噩丕蹖夭賴 蹖 讴鬲丕亘 賲賱蹖 賲賳鬲賯丿丕賳 乇丕 賳蹖夭貙 讴爻亘 讴乇丿賴 丕爻鬲貨 讴鬲丕亘 丕賮鬲禺丕乇 丕蹖賳 乇丕 丿丕乇丿貙 讴賴 丿乇 乇丿蹖賮 爻蹖氐丿 賵 趩賴賱 賵 賳賴貙 丕夭 賮賴乇爻鬲 賴夭丕乇 賵 蹖讴 讴鬲丕亘 亘賳卮蹖賳丿
鬲丕乇蹖禺 亘賴賳诏丕賲 乇爻丕賳蹖 10/03/1400賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 08/02/1401賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 丕. 卮乇亘蹖丕賳蹖
Sula is a 1973 novel by Nobel Prize-winning author Toni Morrison, her second to be published after The Bluest Eye. Two girls who grow up to become women. Two friends who become something worse than enemies. In this brilliantly imagined novel, Toni Morrison tells the story of Nel Wright and Sula Peace, who meet as children in the small town of Medallion, Ohio.
鬲丕乇蹖禺 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 禺賵丕賳卮: 賴卮鬲賲 賲丕賴 爻倬鬲丕賲亘乇 爻丕賱2012賲蹖賱丕丿蹖
毓賳賵丕賳: 爻賵賱丕貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 鬲賵賳蹖 賲賵乇蹖爻賵賳貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 诏賱乇禺 爻毓蹖丿賳蹖丕貨 賵蹖乇丕爻鬲丕乇: 賮丕胤賲賴 鬲蹖賲賵乇蹖貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳卮乇 賯賱賴貙 爻丕賱1387貨 丿乇226氐貨 卮丕亘讴9649204806貨 賲賵囟賵毓: 丿丕爻鬲丕賳賴丕蹖 賳賵蹖爻賳丿诏丕賳 丕蹖丕賱丕鬲 賲鬲丨丿賴 丕賲乇蹖讴丕 - 爻丿賴20賲
爻賵賱丕貙 丕孬乇 芦鬲賵賳蹖 賲賵乇蹖爻賵賳禄貙 爻乇诏匕卮鬲 賵 夭賳丿诏蹖貙 賵 乇賲夭 賵 乇丕夭 丿賵爻鬲蹖 丿賵 夭賳 爻蹖丕賴 倬賵爻鬲 丕爻鬲貙 丿乇 芦丕賵賴丕蹖賵禄貙 夭賳丿诏蹖 芦爻賵賱丕禄貙 賵 丿賵爻鬲 毓夭蹖夭卮 芦賳賱禄貙 丕夭 讴賵丿讴蹖 鬲丕 亘賱賵睾貙 賵 丕夭 亘賱賵睾 鬲丕 賲乇诏 (丿乇诏匕卮鬲)貨 乇賲丕賳貙 噩丕蹖夭賴 蹖 讴鬲丕亘 賲賱蹖 賲賳鬲賯丿丕賳 乇丕 賳蹖夭貙 讴爻亘 讴乇丿賴 丕爻鬲貨 讴鬲丕亘 丕賮鬲禺丕乇 丕蹖賳 乇丕 丿丕乇丿貙 讴賴 丿乇 乇丿蹖賮 爻蹖氐丿 賵 趩賴賱 賵 賳賴貙 丕夭 賮賴乇爻鬲 賴夭丕乇 賵 蹖讴 讴鬲丕亘 亘賳卮蹖賳丿
鬲丕乇蹖禺 亘賴賳诏丕賲 乇爻丕賳蹖 10/03/1400賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 08/02/1401賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 丕. 卮乇亘蹖丕賳蹖
February 25, 2020
I wish I would've read this book for class or with a group because I felt like I was reading a story with a lot of points on a map that didn't quite connect for me. I loved the storyline of the two characters this rotated around, but the book also focused on the town at large, and those bits got lost on me. I found I wasn't quite sure what this was trying to do, and I get really easily frustrated with myself when that happens and it just leaves a bad taste in my mouth that I wasn't smart enough to figure it out. I ended up skimming the last 20 pages of this because I just didn't have the energy anymore to piece things together. So although Morrison is undoubtedly one of the most talented writers in the world and there were so many great quotes I marked, I wish I would've tackled this book with Sparknotes open or something because it just went a little over my head.
February 8, 2020
This unerring writer has been the only one to get all 5 star reviews from me so far (for "Beloved," "The Bluest Eye," & this); all of her books have that same wondrous quality. What can be said about our most cherished writer that hasn't already been said? It is really hard to come up with a favorite novel ("Beloved" for its twinges of Goth? "Eye" for its incessant play with tenderness and cruelty? Or this, for its inspiring mix of grief from [the ultraheavy psychological effects of] "Eye" & the magnificent deus ex machina at the end, a-la "Beloved"?). Better than Faulkner, the scenes we are shown here vary in tone. Morrison's narrator has certain privileges but also decides what not to show us. Sula involves the strong relationship between 2 women, how it can possibly transcend the love for family, the love for love. It is something so completely foreign to me, so delicious, & as bizarre, as, say Cindi Lauper's anthem "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun."
What is it that men miss out on?!
After "Sula" I am now suddenly & utterly aware that there are certain circles (circular... perhaps a fitting definition for the manner in which the writer displays her never-normal narrative) which I am barred from entering--the feeling of being shown only glimpses of something I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND is that mystical magical engine which keeps my nose perpetually in novels.
What is it that men miss out on?!
After "Sula" I am now suddenly & utterly aware that there are certain circles (circular... perhaps a fitting definition for the manner in which the writer displays her never-normal narrative) which I am barred from entering--the feeling of being shown only glimpses of something I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND is that mystical magical engine which keeps my nose perpetually in novels.
March 27, 2017
to watch a video review of this book on my channel, From Beginning to Bookend.
In the hills above the valley town of Medallion, Ohio is a small neighborhood known as the Bottom where black residents form a tight-knit community. They are united in their understanding of discrimination and their experience with racial oppression. The Bottom is home to Nel Wright and Sula Peace, two girls whose friendship is solidified by the burden of a horrendous secret. Once grown, they remain guardians of that secret, but an act of betrayal threatens to terminate their friendship forever.
White people lived on the rich valley floor of that little river town in Ohio, and the blacks populated the hills above it, taking small consolation in the fact that every day they could literally look down on the white folks.
Though Sula posits to be the story of two women, Nel and Sula don't take center stage until roughly fifty pages into the book. Prior to their time in the limelight, the book reads like a collection of character studies, which provides backstory of family history that lays the foundation for the type of drastically different women Nel and Sula each grow up to be.
Opulent language is regularly employed to describe the setting and character attributes:
Then summer came. A summer limp with the weight of blossomed things. Heavy sunflowers weeping over fences, iris curling and browning at the edges far away from their purple hearts; ears of corn letting their auburn hair wind down their stalks. And the boys. The beautiful boys who dotted the landscape like jewels, split the air with their shouts in the field, and thickened the river with their shining wet backs.
Her voice trailed, dipped and bowed; she gave a chord of the simplest words. Nobody, but nobody, could say "hey sugar" like Hannah. When he heard it, the man tipped his hat down a little over his eyes, hoisted his trousers and thought about the hollow place at the base of her throat.
Young Nel is raised in an environment that stifles the glowing qualities of her personality, yet she aspires to be wonderful.
Only with Sula did that quality have free reign, but their friendship was so close, they themselves had difficulty distinguishing one's thoughts from the other's.
As a grown woman, Nel is an accepted figure in the community, content with the status quo and the confines of a life as mother and wife. Young Sula, by stark contrast, enjoys the neatness of Nel's parents' house and finds it a comforting opposite to the dirty, cluttered conditions of her own home where her mother - known around town for being loose with men - adheres to a lax method of parenting. As an adult, Sula challenges the status quo with her anarchistic ways, free of the rules for women established by men, making Sula - first and foremost - a study of an outlaw woman disrupting the harmony of a unified neighborhood and tragically injuring a lifelong friendship.
They said that Sula slept with white men. it may not have been true, but it certainly could have been. She was obviously capable of it. In any case, all minds were closed to her when that word was passed around.
Towards the end of the book, the story shifts without preamble from a third person to a first person narrative for just a few pages. It's likely this was a strategic move, enacted by the author to emphasize a character's deep sense of betrayal, but the sudden and unexpected shift was initially jarring. Once oriented, the scene does allow for a more intimate experience of betrayal as told through the eyes of a character via a first person narrative.
Coming full circle, the book concludes nicely by deferring to the characters introduced in its opening pages.
With only limited time devoted to its two leading characters, Sula is a tragic portrait of a woman breaking societal rules and suffering the grievous consequences of her actions.
-
My deepest gratitude to for providing a free with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
Quarterly.co's Literary Box comes with bookish goodies, a feature book, and two additional books selected by the author of the feature book.
What makes the Literary Box special are the notes written by the author of the feature book. These notes give readers unique insights into the book that only the author would know.
In the hills above the valley town of Medallion, Ohio is a small neighborhood known as the Bottom where black residents form a tight-knit community. They are united in their understanding of discrimination and their experience with racial oppression. The Bottom is home to Nel Wright and Sula Peace, two girls whose friendship is solidified by the burden of a horrendous secret. Once grown, they remain guardians of that secret, but an act of betrayal threatens to terminate their friendship forever.
White people lived on the rich valley floor of that little river town in Ohio, and the blacks populated the hills above it, taking small consolation in the fact that every day they could literally look down on the white folks.
Though Sula posits to be the story of two women, Nel and Sula don't take center stage until roughly fifty pages into the book. Prior to their time in the limelight, the book reads like a collection of character studies, which provides backstory of family history that lays the foundation for the type of drastically different women Nel and Sula each grow up to be.
Opulent language is regularly employed to describe the setting and character attributes:
Then summer came. A summer limp with the weight of blossomed things. Heavy sunflowers weeping over fences, iris curling and browning at the edges far away from their purple hearts; ears of corn letting their auburn hair wind down their stalks. And the boys. The beautiful boys who dotted the landscape like jewels, split the air with their shouts in the field, and thickened the river with their shining wet backs.
Her voice trailed, dipped and bowed; she gave a chord of the simplest words. Nobody, but nobody, could say "hey sugar" like Hannah. When he heard it, the man tipped his hat down a little over his eyes, hoisted his trousers and thought about the hollow place at the base of her throat.
Young Nel is raised in an environment that stifles the glowing qualities of her personality, yet she aspires to be wonderful.
Only with Sula did that quality have free reign, but their friendship was so close, they themselves had difficulty distinguishing one's thoughts from the other's.
As a grown woman, Nel is an accepted figure in the community, content with the status quo and the confines of a life as mother and wife. Young Sula, by stark contrast, enjoys the neatness of Nel's parents' house and finds it a comforting opposite to the dirty, cluttered conditions of her own home where her mother - known around town for being loose with men - adheres to a lax method of parenting. As an adult, Sula challenges the status quo with her anarchistic ways, free of the rules for women established by men, making Sula - first and foremost - a study of an outlaw woman disrupting the harmony of a unified neighborhood and tragically injuring a lifelong friendship.
They said that Sula slept with white men. it may not have been true, but it certainly could have been. She was obviously capable of it. In any case, all minds were closed to her when that word was passed around.
Towards the end of the book, the story shifts without preamble from a third person to a first person narrative for just a few pages. It's likely this was a strategic move, enacted by the author to emphasize a character's deep sense of betrayal, but the sudden and unexpected shift was initially jarring. Once oriented, the scene does allow for a more intimate experience of betrayal as told through the eyes of a character via a first person narrative.
Coming full circle, the book concludes nicely by deferring to the characters introduced in its opening pages.
With only limited time devoted to its two leading characters, Sula is a tragic portrait of a woman breaking societal rules and suffering the grievous consequences of her actions.
-
My deepest gratitude to for providing a free with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
Quarterly.co's Literary Box comes with bookish goodies, a feature book, and two additional books selected by the author of the feature book.
What makes the Literary Box special are the notes written by the author of the feature book. These notes give readers unique insights into the book that only the author would know.
September 9, 2024
despite that weird author hand placement thing i've been seriously obsessing over all these author photos of morrison's huge lion's head on the back of the her books--i look for some external indication of all the furious demented & psychotic shit on the inside but by all appearances she's a lovely woman. it's gotten to the point where i've gotta stick duct tape over the author photo so that everytime i read some crazyass shit and my OCD flares up i can't flip to the back cover to stare some more.
again with the hands.
February 13, 2022
Toni Morrison鈥檚 novels - allusive, poetic, with plots that are carefully, artfully constructed - take work. You 肠补苍鈥檛 read them casually. But they also offer up rich rewards to those with patience.
Sula, her second novel (published in 1973), tells the story of two girls who grow up in the 1920s in a Black hillside community called the Bottom in the small town of Medallion, Ohio.
Nel Wright, as her name implies, does everything right, including get married to a nice Black man and raise children; Sula Peace, who grew up in a non-traditional household overseen by an eccentric, one-legged grandmother, is a rebel with a slightly demonic streak. Later she takes on an attitude towards men that causes the town to shun her.
As children, the two girls take part in something that鈥檚 shrouded in secrecy and shame. Only in the novel鈥檚 final pages will the truth emerge about that incident.
As with Beloved and Song Of Solomon, the two other Morrison novels I鈥檝e read, the language is dense and poetic. This is prose that should be read aloud, savoured. In fact, I reread a couple of passages just to admire them and see how they felt in my mouth and sounded to my ears.
This might also explain why Morrison鈥檚 novels don鈥檛 adapt well to the big or little screen. They鈥檙e gorgeously written, but they don鈥檛 rely much on plot. Morrison, in her omniscient third person POV, gets into many characters鈥� heads (with one exception, in which we鈥檙e given a long, aria-like monologue by Nel), but that doesn鈥檛 have much momentum or drive.
Did I like this novel? Yes. I really liked the way it was structured, orienting us at the beginning of each chapter with a year, but often taking its time to tell us who or what we were going to read about.
I wish the girls鈥� friendship had been illustrated a bit more at the beginning. We鈥檙e mostly told that they had this great friendship; I wanted to see it evolve naturally.
But the scenes Morrison does provide - including a sequence in which the girls are being assessed by the town鈥檚 men, and one in which they鈥檙e being accosted by white boys (boy does Sula ever have a powerful way to escape this situation) - are stunning. They have to be, because Morrison refers to them later.
The theme of how women judge each other over sex and men is communicated vividly. And the uneasy social and geographical relationship between Blacks and whites is handled subtly.
It鈥檚 a novel that gains in power as it progresses. Incidents have to accrue; time has to pass; words have to be spoken; and people have to die before the full weight of the story is felt.
But Morrison delivers, and does so with admirable economy. A lesser writer would have padded out the story, made us love these characters sentimentally, but I appreciated her way of letting the reader fill in the gaps. (One exception: I wanted more, even a sentence or two, about Nel鈥檚 children.)
I look forward to reading The Bluest Eye and Tar Baby - a misfit character with that name is referenced in this book - next.
But I know I鈥檒l need an extended, uninterrupted period of time to read and appreciate them.
Sula, her second novel (published in 1973), tells the story of two girls who grow up in the 1920s in a Black hillside community called the Bottom in the small town of Medallion, Ohio.
Nel Wright, as her name implies, does everything right, including get married to a nice Black man and raise children; Sula Peace, who grew up in a non-traditional household overseen by an eccentric, one-legged grandmother, is a rebel with a slightly demonic streak. Later she takes on an attitude towards men that causes the town to shun her.
As children, the two girls take part in something that鈥檚 shrouded in secrecy and shame. Only in the novel鈥檚 final pages will the truth emerge about that incident.
As with Beloved and Song Of Solomon, the two other Morrison novels I鈥檝e read, the language is dense and poetic. This is prose that should be read aloud, savoured. In fact, I reread a couple of passages just to admire them and see how they felt in my mouth and sounded to my ears.
This might also explain why Morrison鈥檚 novels don鈥檛 adapt well to the big or little screen. They鈥檙e gorgeously written, but they don鈥檛 rely much on plot. Morrison, in her omniscient third person POV, gets into many characters鈥� heads (with one exception, in which we鈥檙e given a long, aria-like monologue by Nel), but that doesn鈥檛 have much momentum or drive.
Did I like this novel? Yes. I really liked the way it was structured, orienting us at the beginning of each chapter with a year, but often taking its time to tell us who or what we were going to read about.
I wish the girls鈥� friendship had been illustrated a bit more at the beginning. We鈥檙e mostly told that they had this great friendship; I wanted to see it evolve naturally.
But the scenes Morrison does provide - including a sequence in which the girls are being assessed by the town鈥檚 men, and one in which they鈥檙e being accosted by white boys (boy does Sula ever have a powerful way to escape this situation) - are stunning. They have to be, because Morrison refers to them later.
The theme of how women judge each other over sex and men is communicated vividly. And the uneasy social and geographical relationship between Blacks and whites is handled subtly.
It鈥檚 a novel that gains in power as it progresses. Incidents have to accrue; time has to pass; words have to be spoken; and people have to die before the full weight of the story is felt.
But Morrison delivers, and does so with admirable economy. A lesser writer would have padded out the story, made us love these characters sentimentally, but I appreciated her way of letting the reader fill in the gaps. (One exception: I wanted more, even a sentence or two, about Nel鈥檚 children.)
I look forward to reading The Bluest Eye and Tar Baby - a misfit character with that name is referenced in this book - next.
But I know I鈥檒l need an extended, uninterrupted period of time to read and appreciate them.
October 29, 2024
Hmmm. Sula is a book that left me somewhat confused, frustrated, and underwhelmed. Nonetheless, I think it definitely has some merit to it, and provided great food for thought. So I have to settle with a non-committed 3 stars.
When Morrison set out to write Sula in the 1970s, she knew what she wanted to explore: "What is friendship between women when unmediated by men? What choices are available to Black women outside their own society鈥檚 approval? What are the risks of individualism in a determinedly individualistic, yet racially uniform and socially static, community?"
Questions that hadn't been taken on in fiction yet, at least not in the mainstream. And so, as most of Morrison's books, Sula is a very female driven story. A story in which (the limits of) female freedom are explored, and how female freedom ties in with sexual freedom and economic freedom.
We meet many different Black women, across multiple generations with varying attitudes toward freedom: Hannah has many suitors and takes full pleasure in sex. Eva sacrifices her body for economic freedom (she sells off her leg in order to provide for her family), Nel tries to accommodate with the protection that marriage promises, Sula resists to either sacrifice or accommodation.
And so, Sula can be described as a story of motherhood, friendship, and sacrifice. It follows Nel and Sula, two girls who grow up in a mostly Black village in Ohio, from childhood to adulthood and describes the way their deep bond is tested by societal norms, and hot it is shaped by the constrictions of a segregated, patriarchal South.
The novel starts off with an announcement of the looming destruction of the Bottom (the Black neighborhood of Medallion). Morrison then takes us back in time to show us the various people who existed and lived there before. We see Nel and her mother Helene (= "an eagerness to please and an apology for living met in her voice") as they travel to New Orleans to visit a dying relative. We see them face the difficulties that travelling posed for Black people in the segregated South. Nel is shaped by this visit, as she realizes that she never wants to be as "shameful" as her mother's mother (who didn't raise her because she worked as a prostitute), Nel wants to be "wonderful". She begins this venture by befriending Sula against her mother's wishes.
We then get to know Sula and her family. The matriarch of the Peace family, Eva (Sula's grandmother), came to Medallion with her husband BoyBoy and their three children: Hannah, Pearl, and Plum. However, BoyBoy eventually abandons the family and Eva is forced to raise the children on her own. Exhausted and impoverished, she leaves the children with a neighbor for eighteen months and returns with a mysterious new prosperity and a missing leg. Eva uses her money to build a large home on Carpenter's Road where she accepts boarders and takes in children.
And it was moments like this that pulled me out of the story. These deaths didn't feel organic, they felt quite over-the-top, and loaded with symbolism. However, I couldn't quite grasp what Morrison intended by describing these deaths in such a gruesome way. It didn't click into place for me.
As Sula and Nel grow up, they remain close. However, after Nel's wedding to Jude Greene, Sula leaves Medallion and the girls don't see each other for another ten years. When Sula returns, she has Eva placed into a nursing home, and also has an affair with Nel's husband, which leads him to leave his wife, and Nel to no longer talk to Sula.
Personally, I really hated that. To me it read like Morrison made the statement that Sula's existence in the town was a good thing because it reminded the women to be good daughters/ wives, in order to ensure that their fathers/ husbands wouldn't leave them. That's such a fucked up message which left a really bitter taste in my mouth. It is not (!) a woman's job to ensure that her husband doesn't cheat on her. She doesn't have to be "nice" or "caring", so that she wouldn't be abandoned. Ugh. Instead of dismantling the patriarchal structures of Medallion (which I would've loved to see), Morrison chose the grim route of reinforcing them. (And I can see why, it's more realistic yada yada yada, but I don't get why Sula needed to be portrayed as this patron saint of this fucking village for literally being an asshole, and reminding everyone to not be an asshole??? Ehh?? Why?)
After a while, Sula starts an affair with Ajax, but as soon as she gets attached, he leaves town. Saddened by his departure, Sula falls ill shortly afterwards. Nel visits Sula on her sickbed and the women fight, since Nel gets frustrated by Sula's attitude toward conformity and tradition, and her unwillingness to apologise for cheating with Jude.
Overall, I feel like Sula was living in a lie. In this weird capitalist notion that freedom is an individual thing. That being free means that you're literally shitting on anybody else, that you only care for yourself. That being selfish is the way to go. And that's such a deficient life. I totally get that that's (unfortunately) the truth in our capitalist and very individualistically driven societies, but I wished that Morrison would've explored what TRUE freedom is. That we cannot be free as long as our neighbors aren't. Sula's freedom meant nothing, because none of the women around her were free. It would've been so powerful had Morrison really pondered on what it would've meant for this community of women to carve out a space for themselves, all of themselves, where they cut be free, despite the structural racism and sexism in the US.
I get that that's a big fucking scope, and would've taken the novel in an entire new direction, but the way Sula was written left me very confused (...and somewhat disappointed) about Morrison's notion of freedom, and what that means for Black women. Because it freedom means living my life like Sula (only caring about myself and nobody else), then I don't want to be a part of it. I'm sorry.
After Nel leaves, Sula dies alone. And albeit the people of the village are pleased by her death, they start behaving differently afterwards, abandoning their righteous indignation and becoming slack in their roles as mothers and daughters again. [Again, absolutely hated that, because it reinforced the notion that women need to dutifully fulfil their roles as mothers and daughters, and please the men in their lives. No, thank you.]
The story ends in 1965, when Nel is fifty-five years old, and all of her kids have grown up. She visits Eva in the hospital and is forced to reflect on her role in Chicken鈥檚 death. Nel realizes that she was complicit in his death and that she enjoyed watching him fall. At the novel鈥檚 end, Nel also realizes that she has harbored a deep pain and sorrow about losing her friend Sula, and that she had missed her all along, not her husband. That ending would've hit a lot harder had I cared for Sula but alas! it wasn't meant to be.
From a Black feminist standpoint, I totally see the need of writing unlikeable Black female characters. It is important to show their complexity. So, don't get me wrong, Sula is a perfectly fine character for a book like this ... That just doesn't mean I have to like her on a personal level. ;) Also, for those interested: there is also a queer reading of Sula which focuses on how Nel and Sula live their lives outside of/beyond heteronormative expectations for social interaction. For more on that see Barbara Smith's and Roderick Ferguson's takes on Sula.
When Morrison set out to write Sula in the 1970s, she knew what she wanted to explore: "What is friendship between women when unmediated by men? What choices are available to Black women outside their own society鈥檚 approval? What are the risks of individualism in a determinedly individualistic, yet racially uniform and socially static, community?"
Questions that hadn't been taken on in fiction yet, at least not in the mainstream. And so, as most of Morrison's books, Sula is a very female driven story. A story in which (the limits of) female freedom are explored, and how female freedom ties in with sexual freedom and economic freedom.
We meet many different Black women, across multiple generations with varying attitudes toward freedom: Hannah has many suitors and takes full pleasure in sex. Eva sacrifices her body for economic freedom (she sells off her leg in order to provide for her family), Nel tries to accommodate with the protection that marriage promises, Sula resists to either sacrifice or accommodation.
And so, Sula can be described as a story of motherhood, friendship, and sacrifice. It follows Nel and Sula, two girls who grow up in a mostly Black village in Ohio, from childhood to adulthood and describes the way their deep bond is tested by societal norms, and hot it is shaped by the constrictions of a segregated, patriarchal South.
The novel starts off with an announcement of the looming destruction of the Bottom (the Black neighborhood of Medallion). Morrison then takes us back in time to show us the various people who existed and lived there before. We see Nel and her mother Helene (= "an eagerness to please and an apology for living met in her voice") as they travel to New Orleans to visit a dying relative. We see them face the difficulties that travelling posed for Black people in the segregated South. Nel is shaped by this visit, as she realizes that she never wants to be as "shameful" as her mother's mother (who didn't raise her because she worked as a prostitute), Nel wants to be "wonderful". She begins this venture by befriending Sula against her mother's wishes.
We then get to know Sula and her family. The matriarch of the Peace family, Eva (Sula's grandmother), came to Medallion with her husband BoyBoy and their three children: Hannah, Pearl, and Plum. However, BoyBoy eventually abandons the family and Eva is forced to raise the children on her own. Exhausted and impoverished, she leaves the children with a neighbor for eighteen months and returns with a mysterious new prosperity and a missing leg. Eva uses her money to build a large home on Carpenter's Road where she accepts boarders and takes in children.
The children needed her; she needed money, and needed to get on with ehr life.But the demands of feeding her three children were so acute she had to postpone her anger for two years until she had both the time and the energy for it.Despite their differences, Sula and Nel become fiercely attached to each other and do almost everything together. The girls also come to share a dark secret when they participate in the accidental death of a young boy named Chicken Little. And he's not the only one to die. Around the same time, Plum returns from war with a drug addiction. Eva, in an act of "ensuring" her son would die like a man (and not a sick child), sets him on fire. Hannah also dies, burning alive after accidentally setting herself aflame while trying to do laundry.
And it was moments like this that pulled me out of the story. These deaths didn't feel organic, they felt quite over-the-top, and loaded with symbolism. However, I couldn't quite grasp what Morrison intended by describing these deaths in such a gruesome way. It didn't click into place for me.
As Sula and Nel grow up, they remain close. However, after Nel's wedding to Jude Greene, Sula leaves Medallion and the girls don't see each other for another ten years. When Sula returns, she has Eva placed into a nursing home, and also has an affair with Nel's husband, which leads him to leave his wife, and Nel to no longer talk to Sula.
Sula: 鈥淚 don鈥檛 want to make somebody else. I want to make myself.鈥�The townspeople regard Sula as the very personification of evil for her blatant disregard of social conventions. And so, Sula spends the rest of her days hated and judged by the people of Medallion, since she frequently sleeps with the men/ husbands of the village. Ironically, the community's labelling of Sula as evil actually improves their own lives, as her presence in the community gives them the impetus to live harmoniously with one another, as well as treat each other better.
Eva: 鈥淪elfish. Ain鈥檛 no woman got no business floatin鈥� around with no man.鈥�
Personally, I really hated that. To me it read like Morrison made the statement that Sula's existence in the town was a good thing because it reminded the women to be good daughters/ wives, in order to ensure that their fathers/ husbands wouldn't leave them. That's such a fucked up message which left a really bitter taste in my mouth. It is not (!) a woman's job to ensure that her husband doesn't cheat on her. She doesn't have to be "nice" or "caring", so that she wouldn't be abandoned. Ugh. Instead of dismantling the patriarchal structures of Medallion (which I would've loved to see), Morrison chose the grim route of reinforcing them. (And I can see why, it's more realistic yada yada yada, but I don't get why Sula needed to be portrayed as this patron saint of this fucking village for literally being an asshole, and reminding everyone to not be an asshole??? Ehh?? Why?)
After a while, Sula starts an affair with Ajax, but as soon as she gets attached, he leaves town. Saddened by his departure, Sula falls ill shortly afterwards. Nel visits Sula on her sickbed and the women fight, since Nel gets frustrated by Sula's attitude toward conformity and tradition, and her unwillingness to apologise for cheating with Jude.
Sula: 鈥淲hy? I can do it all, why 肠补苍鈥檛 I have it all?鈥�That conversation was the nail in the coffin for me. I hated Sula and her self-righteous ass so much. This woman never worked a single day in her life, lived off the business her grandmother started, never had to take care of a single child in her entire life, and yet she was the one trying to lecture Nel on the topic of freedom and responsibility. Gurl, please, sit your ass down. You lived your whole life like a child, having no responsibility at all. Your notion of what freedom is isn't worth anything to tell. Nel can't just fuck off and leave her children starving, she literally HAS to work to provide for her family.
Nel: 鈥淵ou 肠补苍鈥檛 do it all. You a woman and a colored woman at that. You 肠补苍鈥檛 act like a man. You 肠补苍鈥檛 be walking around all independent-like, doing whatever you like, taking what you want, leaving what you don鈥檛.鈥�
Sula: 鈥淲ork鈥檚 good for you, Nellie. It don鈥檛 do nothing for me.鈥�Sula's privileged ass was really embarrassing herself throughout this entire conversation. And to top it all of, she had the nerve to accuse Nel of never getting over her cheating with Nel's husband ("If we were such good friends, how come you couldn鈥檛 get over it?"), when SULA NEVER (!! NOT ONCE) APOLOGISED FOR SLEEPING WITH JUDE???? The audacity was real with one.
Nel: 鈥淵ou never had 迟辞.鈥�
Sula: 鈥淚 never would.鈥�
Overall, I feel like Sula was living in a lie. In this weird capitalist notion that freedom is an individual thing. That being free means that you're literally shitting on anybody else, that you only care for yourself. That being selfish is the way to go. And that's such a deficient life. I totally get that that's (unfortunately) the truth in our capitalist and very individualistically driven societies, but I wished that Morrison would've explored what TRUE freedom is. That we cannot be free as long as our neighbors aren't. Sula's freedom meant nothing, because none of the women around her were free. It would've been so powerful had Morrison really pondered on what it would've meant for this community of women to carve out a space for themselves, all of themselves, where they cut be free, despite the structural racism and sexism in the US.
I get that that's a big fucking scope, and would've taken the novel in an entire new direction, but the way Sula was written left me very confused (...and somewhat disappointed) about Morrison's notion of freedom, and what that means for Black women. Because it freedom means living my life like Sula (only caring about myself and nobody else), then I don't want to be a part of it. I'm sorry.
After Nel leaves, Sula dies alone. And albeit the people of the village are pleased by her death, they start behaving differently afterwards, abandoning their righteous indignation and becoming slack in their roles as mothers and daughters again. [Again, absolutely hated that, because it reinforced the notion that women need to dutifully fulfil their roles as mothers and daughters, and please the men in their lives. No, thank you.]
The story ends in 1965, when Nel is fifty-five years old, and all of her kids have grown up. She visits Eva in the hospital and is forced to reflect on her role in Chicken鈥檚 death. Nel realizes that she was complicit in his death and that she enjoyed watching him fall. At the novel鈥檚 end, Nel also realizes that she has harbored a deep pain and sorrow about losing her friend Sula, and that she had missed her all along, not her husband. That ending would've hit a lot harder had I cared for Sula but alas! it wasn't meant to be.
From a Black feminist standpoint, I totally see the need of writing unlikeable Black female characters. It is important to show their complexity. So, don't get me wrong, Sula is a perfectly fine character for a book like this ... That just doesn't mean I have to like her on a personal level. ;) Also, for those interested: there is also a queer reading of Sula which focuses on how Nel and Sula live their lives outside of/beyond heteronormative expectations for social interaction. For more on that see Barbara Smith's and Roderick Ferguson's takes on Sula.
August 8, 2019
She had no center, no speck around which to grow.
I can't start to explain this book or the feeling I get each time a new chapter (numbered according to years) gives me the anxious expectation similar to unwrapping a piece of chocolate from the box of assortments - you never know what you'll get.
I can't accurately explain why this fluidity of language, this mixture of elegant vernacular, this exhilarating and encompassing flow of words forms trails down my spine and envelops me into a warm cocoon that somehow makes me feel shielded, somehow makes me feel understood.
I can't pinpoint a character who Sula reminds me of, so uniquely peculiar and atypical she is that even though I don't necessarily like her, nor am I drawn to her, I still understand the themes she embodies, her skepticism about the world, her desire to live in her dreams and her disdain for conformity.
There, in the center of that silence was not eternity but the death of time and a loneliness so profound the word itself had no meaning. For loneliness assumed the absence of other people, and the solitude she found in that desperate terrain had never admitted the possibility of other people.
I can't even start to decipher this ornately drawn friendship between Nel and Sula, this sisterhood that is too tightly boarded to enter, and yet still fragile enough to form cracks; a friendship "so close, they themselves had difficulty distinguishing one's thoughts from the other's."
They were solitary little girls whose loneliness was so profound it intoxicated them and sent them stumbling into Technicolored visions that always included a presence, a someone, who, quite like the dreamer, shared the delight of the dream.
I can't articulate the juxtaposed gloom and excitement that riddles the city of Medallion, nor the irony of the city segregated but still atop a hill that protects and shields the rest of the community from nature's doom; can't explain properly, or conjure up fairly, the delectable concoction of lust and betrayal and jealousy and strife that parallels one woman's psychological journey and self-realization.
What I can say is that this is a Toni Morrison novel that stands apart in its singularness, a book and author you have to read to understand, a book that surprisingly doesn't appear in many book club reads even though it would make for pretty interesting discussions. This is the fourth novel of my Morrison journey I started a couple of years ago. First , then , and later, . And I can't wait to keep exploring.
April 20, 2025
Sula is a powerful, unforgettable compact novel, metaphorically symbolizing a woman who represents our need to find a scapegoat on those who are different.
Sure it sounds like a clich茅d theme done over and over again. But for me, it remains a revolutionary work that continues to keep conversations going about race, sexuality, and the actions of communities who are scapegoated and marginalized.
At the crux of this story is Nel the conformist, and her best friend, the eccentric Sula. Sula is a reprieve from Nel鈥檚 strict Christian upbringing and separate after high school ends.
Then Sula returns: the jezebel! Stealing Nel鈥檚 man, Jude along the way and becomes hated. What becomes of their friendship, you may ask?
The love and hate friendship between Sula and Nel is one of many of the literary canon's feuds- and when one reads this, I identified that they both are inflicted with two kinds of loneliness:
For Sula, loneliness represents a desire to flout convention to free herself from society's conventions, "but my lonely is mine. Now your lonely is somebody else's, made by somebody else and handed to you. Ain't that something? A secondhand lonely" (Morrison 143). For her, it is a choice that she makes in order to make her own way in the world.
Nel's loneliness is self induced, out of her desire to live a rigid and conventional life; and from her anger that her husband Jude left her for Sula, "she had looked at her children and knew in her heart that would be all, that they were all she would ever know of love. But it was a love that, like a pan of syrup kept too long on the stove, had cooked out, leaving only its odor and a hard sweet sludge, impossible to scrape off" (Morrison 165).
But both women also know that their loneliness stems from their childhood secret of watching their friend Chicken Little drown after an afternoon of playing innocently.
It's this wrenching knowledge that they saw a life end is what has brought these women together, yet, apart- Sula is full of self awareness and emotion; Nel, rigid and unforgiving and refuses to take responsibility for her part in Chicken Little's death.
Morrison's novel contains two powerful subplots concerning two men that Sula knew:
Ajax is sexy and refuses to be tied down, and seems to have believe that Sula's his match, only when she asks of his whereabouts does he break up with her, "his absence was everywhere, stinging everything" (Morrison 134). Sula's heartbreak is perfectly captured, "I wanted to know his name so how could he help but leave me since he was making love to a woman who didn't even know his name" (Morrison 134).
Shadrack is the mentally unstable, and PTSD ridden World War I veteran who grieves Sula's death because she's the only one who ever cared for him, and he is the only one who truly understood her, "when he looked at her face, he had also seen the skull beneath...he tried to think of something to say to comfort Sula, something to stop the hurt from spilling out of her eyes, so he had said always, so she would not be afraid of the change" (Morrison 157).
Being an outsider, he becomes accepted at the Bottom for his eccentricities- yet, because he is a man, his actions are never questioned.
Morrison's language, structure, the voices of women all reverberate like ghosts hanging on wanting their stories to be read and passed on, not just Sula and Nel; but of Sula's grandmother, Eva; her mother Hannah, and even Nel's mother Helene are all aching and yearning to be loved.
It seems through her luscious prose, Morrison captures a neverending heartbreak that keeps repeating itself in different stages of life because like unlike Sula, as people, we are always searching ways to "define ourselves" (Morrison 95).
We hurt those that we don鈥檛 understand, and often realize that this is an innate desire to appear self righteous.
Postscript: Right after you read Sula, make sure to read Morrison鈥檚 masterpiece of a short story called 鈥淩ecitatif鈥� and the novel 鈥淟ove鈥�- all three have shared themes that are all interconnected.
Sure it sounds like a clich茅d theme done over and over again. But for me, it remains a revolutionary work that continues to keep conversations going about race, sexuality, and the actions of communities who are scapegoated and marginalized.
At the crux of this story is Nel the conformist, and her best friend, the eccentric Sula. Sula is a reprieve from Nel鈥檚 strict Christian upbringing and separate after high school ends.
Then Sula returns: the jezebel! Stealing Nel鈥檚 man, Jude along the way and becomes hated. What becomes of their friendship, you may ask?
The love and hate friendship between Sula and Nel is one of many of the literary canon's feuds- and when one reads this, I identified that they both are inflicted with two kinds of loneliness:
For Sula, loneliness represents a desire to flout convention to free herself from society's conventions, "but my lonely is mine. Now your lonely is somebody else's, made by somebody else and handed to you. Ain't that something? A secondhand lonely" (Morrison 143). For her, it is a choice that she makes in order to make her own way in the world.
Nel's loneliness is self induced, out of her desire to live a rigid and conventional life; and from her anger that her husband Jude left her for Sula, "she had looked at her children and knew in her heart that would be all, that they were all she would ever know of love. But it was a love that, like a pan of syrup kept too long on the stove, had cooked out, leaving only its odor and a hard sweet sludge, impossible to scrape off" (Morrison 165).
But both women also know that their loneliness stems from their childhood secret of watching their friend Chicken Little drown after an afternoon of playing innocently.
It's this wrenching knowledge that they saw a life end is what has brought these women together, yet, apart- Sula is full of self awareness and emotion; Nel, rigid and unforgiving and refuses to take responsibility for her part in Chicken Little's death.
Morrison's novel contains two powerful subplots concerning two men that Sula knew:
Ajax is sexy and refuses to be tied down, and seems to have believe that Sula's his match, only when she asks of his whereabouts does he break up with her, "his absence was everywhere, stinging everything" (Morrison 134). Sula's heartbreak is perfectly captured, "I wanted to know his name so how could he help but leave me since he was making love to a woman who didn't even know his name" (Morrison 134).
Shadrack is the mentally unstable, and PTSD ridden World War I veteran who grieves Sula's death because she's the only one who ever cared for him, and he is the only one who truly understood her, "when he looked at her face, he had also seen the skull beneath...he tried to think of something to say to comfort Sula, something to stop the hurt from spilling out of her eyes, so he had said always, so she would not be afraid of the change" (Morrison 157).
Being an outsider, he becomes accepted at the Bottom for his eccentricities- yet, because he is a man, his actions are never questioned.
Morrison's language, structure, the voices of women all reverberate like ghosts hanging on wanting their stories to be read and passed on, not just Sula and Nel; but of Sula's grandmother, Eva; her mother Hannah, and even Nel's mother Helene are all aching and yearning to be loved.
It seems through her luscious prose, Morrison captures a neverending heartbreak that keeps repeating itself in different stages of life because like unlike Sula, as people, we are always searching ways to "define ourselves" (Morrison 95).
We hurt those that we don鈥檛 understand, and often realize that this is an innate desire to appear self righteous.
Postscript: Right after you read Sula, make sure to read Morrison鈥檚 masterpiece of a short story called 鈥淩ecitatif鈥� and the novel 鈥淟ove鈥�- all three have shared themes that are all interconnected.
August 3, 2016
This is the first time I鈥檝e ever struggled to review a book I鈥檝e read. Perhaps this relentless English rain is getting to me and addling my brain? Not that Sula was in any way bad. Just that I find my response to it is as mysterious as the book itself. I could say it鈥檚 been a while since I read Toni Morrison and my first response was excitement at the reminder of how stunningly she can write a sentence 鈥� 鈥淕rass stood blade by blade, shocked into separateness by an ice that held for days鈥�. I could say it鈥檚 about two girls who strike up a poignant intimacy as children and how one becomes a compromised adult and the other becomes the quintessential outsider until she鈥檚 resented and feared by her entire neighbourhood, a neighbourhood that seems to exist on a barren island, cut off from the wider world of opportunity and hope 鈥� everyone鈥檚 hopes are centred on the rumoured construction of a tunnel and a bridge to the neighbouring town. And how it does a moving job of showing how all the odds are stacked against a black woman living in the USA in the first half of the 20th century 鈥� 鈥� because each had discovered years before they were neither white nor male and that all freedom and triumph was forbidden them they set about something else to be." I could say it鈥檚 a strange mix of poetic myth and grubby realism with perhaps an absence of narrative drive, of compelling storytelling. Despite the beauty of its language and its moving chronicling of appalling social injustice 鈥� 鈥渢he staggering childish malevolence of their employers鈥�. In fact, I think that鈥檚 what I鈥檒l say and leave it at that 鈥� except to conclude that in this novel all Morrison鈥檚 immense gifts as a writer are on display, except her genius of weaving them all together into riveting storytelling. The ending though is fabulous. 3.5 stars.
The sun's just come out!
The sun's just come out!
May 1, 2020
Imagine writing a Black feminist novel that precedes the release of seminal Black feminist texts like Black Macho & the Myth of the Superwoman (1978), Aint I a Woman (1981), & Women, Race & Class (1981), among others. Toni Morrison did just that in 1973 with the release of her stellar second novel, Sula.
Although this novel is called Sula, I wouldn't have been surprised if this novel was called the Bottom, which is the neighborhood in the fictional city of Medallion, Ohio that the story takes place in.
The Bottom, which is home to a fully realized Black world. Where every January 3rd a holiday called National Suicide Day, created by a World War One Vet named Shadrack, is celebrated. Where Eva is the town matriarch. Arguably the most loving & evil woman this town has ever seen. Home to Hannah Peace who will make love to your man in the pantry & wash your dishes afterwards. The Deweys, Tar Baby, Ajax, but most importantly, Sula Peace & Nel Wright.
Sula & Nel are two women who show you what happens when at one point in your life you two are rebels. You share a singular & defiant vision that allows the both of you to see through any & everyone in your town. A vision that will always keep y'all home, on the margins. But what happens when one of you who shared that vision betrays it? They become apart of the people y'all used to see through, yet, When you come back to town after an extended absence she looks at you funny, she wants you to explain yourself in ways you never would have had to before? Whose really wrong? The person who stuck to the vision, or the person who conformed?
Besides those questions that stem from Sula & Nel, this novel touches on themes of womanhood as a whole, sexuality, love & if there is a right way to perform it, perception, indiviuduality, gentrification, white flight, the disgusting pervasiveness of anti-Black racism, & how religion can uplift your morals while also compromising your potential to defend against those enemies with a lack thereof.
I advise you all to read Sula multiple times and when you do, cherish the gems you dig up from each visit. Morrison is far too kind for providing us with them, especially within 174 pages.
(Review from my first read back in 2017):
Although this novel is called Sula, I wouldn't have been surprised if this novel was called the Bottom, which is the neighborhood in the fictional city of Medallion, Ohio that the story takes place in.
The Bottom, which is home to a fully realized Black world. Where every January 3rd a holiday called National Suicide Day, created by a World War One Vet named Shadrack, is celebrated. Where Eva is the town matriarch. Arguably the most loving & evil woman this town has ever seen. Home to Hannah Peace who will make love to your man in the pantry & wash your dishes afterwards. The Deweys, Tar Baby, Ajax, but most importantly, Sula Peace & Nel Wright.
Sula & Nel are two women who show you what happens when at one point in your life you two are rebels. You share a singular & defiant vision that allows the both of you to see through any & everyone in your town. A vision that will always keep y'all home, on the margins. But what happens when one of you who shared that vision betrays it? They become apart of the people y'all used to see through, yet, When you come back to town after an extended absence she looks at you funny, she wants you to explain yourself in ways you never would have had to before? Whose really wrong? The person who stuck to the vision, or the person who conformed?
Besides those questions that stem from Sula & Nel, this novel touches on themes of womanhood as a whole, sexuality, love & if there is a right way to perform it, perception, indiviuduality, gentrification, white flight, the disgusting pervasiveness of anti-Black racism, & how religion can uplift your morals while also compromising your potential to defend against those enemies with a lack thereof.
I advise you all to read Sula multiple times and when you do, cherish the gems you dig up from each visit. Morrison is far too kind for providing us with them, especially within 174 pages.
(Review from my first read back in 2017):
September 5, 2021
The cover flap of Sula describes it as a novel about a friendship between two women. The friendship between Sula and Nel, (starting when they are young girls) is the center of this intense novel, but there are so many other intertwined layers. Morrison has created a portrait of several strong women who survive, with no help from men, in a Black Ohio neighborhood from 1919 to 1965. The men are mostly weak, philandering, drunk or mentally ill.
Each chapter is an eloquent masterpiece, encapsulating a period of time and the essence of Helene, Eva, Hannah, Nel or Sula. I listened to almost the entire novel, then picked up the print version and started from the beginning. As much as I like Toni Morrison's velvety voice, her reading was hard to follow at times. This novel could be read again and again and again. Every sentence is a gold mine. A dazzling, rich work of art.
Each chapter is an eloquent masterpiece, encapsulating a period of time and the essence of Helene, Eva, Hannah, Nel or Sula. I listened to almost the entire novel, then picked up the print version and started from the beginning. As much as I like Toni Morrison's velvety voice, her reading was hard to follow at times. This novel could be read again and again and again. Every sentence is a gold mine. A dazzling, rich work of art.
April 22, 2024
how tf was this under 200 pages
September 18, 2015
Hell ain't things lasting forever. Hell is change.
It is time for change; slowly, painfully, but inexorably the spirit of the age sheds old rags and dons a new garb. The mutes are beginning to discover a voice that had been trapped in their windpipes; eyes see things that they had hitherto only watched; and hearts ache with a new throb of hope mixed with fear of which no one can tell which is greater. From this sense of foreboding out comes Sula.
The excluded community confined up in the hills outside a small Ohio town is made, through centuries of social conditioning, to see themselves as different and separate from the white people. They know who they are and they also know they are not the same as the people who live in the town down the hills. They are different, in every imaginable way. You could see that.
They are scandalised when Sula, one of their own, embarks on a path that's opening up out there, a path of education and mobility, of employment and relocation, of mingling with the white folks as their human equal, if not racial, social or political equal. Gods be good, the black people are offered to live their lives like the white folks!
鈥淚t was a fine cry - loud and long - but it had no bottom and it had no top, just circles and circles of sorrow.鈥�
When she returns home after a long absence Sula is transformed into an unintelligible mass of thoughts and actions her people find difficult to square: It's like a white girl in black skin. Or so people think. Unpardonable. Outrageous. Her community is devastated; nothing is more sacrilegious than dressing like white people, speaking like them, behaving like them, being like them. And what's more, Sula has taken a white man for a lover. Sula, we're not the same. Ah, what an incredible fact of human psychology that even if you do not lose a sense of identity and self-respect, you eventually come to accept the role to which your oppressor designates you.
Sula becomes a pariah in her own community, uncomprehending and incomprehensible. The ominous signs that lend her a preternatural aura testify to something strange. People see those signs in retrospect, from her birth to childhood, from her growing up as a daughter of a woman abandoned by her husband, from the way she looked at them when she was a child, the way she walked and sat, ate and gestured. Sula, they reach on a terrifying conclusion, is not a young black girl but a phantom implanted from a world of shadows. She is almost a witch, and if she really is not, she ought to be one.
Sula鈥檚 character is a symbol (self-contradictory, torn, divided, compartmentalised, unmappable) of the conflict borne of the changing values that had held together isolated, nebulous, inward-looking black communities across the United States in the age of institutionalised racism. Values constructed so carefully over centuries when challenged elicit a response that鈥檚 always out of proportion. Sula is a couldn't-care-less woman whose threatening individuality alienates her from her community. For this she is taken to task. Her own dealings with her family and the community bespeak a cruelty she's picked up in the course of her contact with the outer world. She, a black woman, treats her own kith and kin with a shade of contempt with which they had always been treated by the White Others.
Her character elicits mixed reactions. Sometimes you want to blame her, sometimes blame her family, sometimes you want to blame the sudden rush of new ideas that has thrown the whole social equation out of balance.
Was it the new life among the white folks that turned her against herself? Or was it to do with her troubled early years, living as she did with her mother who had taken to selling sex as the most natural vocation a woman might take when her husband walked out on her, causing a rupture in relations with the community? Or did her people, unable to take her novelty, pushed her to the wall, turned her into an alien in her own skin?
What made Sula, Sula? This is a question you'll be grappling with by the end of the novel.
Originally posted February '15
Reworked September '15
It is time for change; slowly, painfully, but inexorably the spirit of the age sheds old rags and dons a new garb. The mutes are beginning to discover a voice that had been trapped in their windpipes; eyes see things that they had hitherto only watched; and hearts ache with a new throb of hope mixed with fear of which no one can tell which is greater. From this sense of foreboding out comes Sula.
The excluded community confined up in the hills outside a small Ohio town is made, through centuries of social conditioning, to see themselves as different and separate from the white people. They know who they are and they also know they are not the same as the people who live in the town down the hills. They are different, in every imaginable way. You could see that.
They are scandalised when Sula, one of their own, embarks on a path that's opening up out there, a path of education and mobility, of employment and relocation, of mingling with the white folks as their human equal, if not racial, social or political equal. Gods be good, the black people are offered to live their lives like the white folks!
鈥淚t was a fine cry - loud and long - but it had no bottom and it had no top, just circles and circles of sorrow.鈥�
When she returns home after a long absence Sula is transformed into an unintelligible mass of thoughts and actions her people find difficult to square: It's like a white girl in black skin. Or so people think. Unpardonable. Outrageous. Her community is devastated; nothing is more sacrilegious than dressing like white people, speaking like them, behaving like them, being like them. And what's more, Sula has taken a white man for a lover. Sula, we're not the same. Ah, what an incredible fact of human psychology that even if you do not lose a sense of identity and self-respect, you eventually come to accept the role to which your oppressor designates you.
Sula becomes a pariah in her own community, uncomprehending and incomprehensible. The ominous signs that lend her a preternatural aura testify to something strange. People see those signs in retrospect, from her birth to childhood, from her growing up as a daughter of a woman abandoned by her husband, from the way she looked at them when she was a child, the way she walked and sat, ate and gestured. Sula, they reach on a terrifying conclusion, is not a young black girl but a phantom implanted from a world of shadows. She is almost a witch, and if she really is not, she ought to be one.
Sula鈥檚 character is a symbol (self-contradictory, torn, divided, compartmentalised, unmappable) of the conflict borne of the changing values that had held together isolated, nebulous, inward-looking black communities across the United States in the age of institutionalised racism. Values constructed so carefully over centuries when challenged elicit a response that鈥檚 always out of proportion. Sula is a couldn't-care-less woman whose threatening individuality alienates her from her community. For this she is taken to task. Her own dealings with her family and the community bespeak a cruelty she's picked up in the course of her contact with the outer world. She, a black woman, treats her own kith and kin with a shade of contempt with which they had always been treated by the White Others.
Her character elicits mixed reactions. Sometimes you want to blame her, sometimes blame her family, sometimes you want to blame the sudden rush of new ideas that has thrown the whole social equation out of balance.
Was it the new life among the white folks that turned her against herself? Or was it to do with her troubled early years, living as she did with her mother who had taken to selling sex as the most natural vocation a woman might take when her husband walked out on her, causing a rupture in relations with the community? Or did her people, unable to take her novelty, pushed her to the wall, turned her into an alien in her own skin?
What made Sula, Sula? This is a question you'll be grappling with by the end of the novel.
鈥淵ou been gone too long, Sula.
Not too long, but maybe too far.鈥�
Originally posted February '15
Reworked September '15
July 20, 2022
This is a wholly black novel. There isn鈥檛 a single white character developed here, not even the mention of a white name. No white character so much as utters a word. This seems just and equitable, even commensurate. Morrison has a beautiful idiosyncratic American voice unlike anyone else. She鈥檚 inimitable.
April 7, 2009
Toni Morrison is the bee's knees, the cat's pajamas, the flea's eyebrows, the canary's tusks, the eel's ankle, the snake's hip, and the mutt's nuts.
September 11, 2019
鈥淲hen you gone to get married? You need to have some babies. It鈥檒l settle you.'
'I don鈥檛 want to make somebody else. I want to make myself.鈥�
I found Toni Morrison to be one of the most consistent authors I ever read. And, with her being one of my favourite writers of all time, this means I found all her books I read to this day extremely interesting and deeply touching. Not only she was consistent with her style, but also with her themes, characters, and general tone of her stories. Toni spoke about women, power, life, the absurdity and inevitability of human weakness. There are few other authors who can make me feel such deep emotions and connect so authentically with characters who live a completely different life than my own. She never fails to make me shed a tear.
This book was no exception: short, raw, unapologetic; the story of the community of "The Bottom" refuses to sugarcoat the roughness of black people's lives in the 1920s-40s, and it's filled with pain, guilt, regret, timeless women's wisdom and the sheer horror of the human condition. In a world where happiness seems to be a forgotten concept - only good for children and people who don't know better - women and men thrive and, against all odds, they love, laugh, cry, and survive. There are moments, in this book - especially the very ending - which struck me with the depth of their truth. I truly believe Toni had one of the deepest insights on the real meaning of life in history. It's not rare at all, for me, to read one of her books and have to stop and think about how she just gave an explanation for one of the greatest mysteries of reality. Take, for example, this description of the loneliness of a single woman and the loneliness of a married, unhappy one:
鈥淟onely, ain't it?
Yes, but my lonely is mine. Now your lonely is somebody else's. Made by somebody else and handed to you. Ain't that something? A secondhand lonely.鈥�
And this desperate, incredibly touching declaration of love of an abandoned woman:
鈥淏ut Jude,' she would say, 'you knew me. All those days and years, Jude, you knew me. My ways and my hands and how my stomach folded and how we tried to get Mickey to nurse and how about that time when the landlord said...but you said...and I cried, Jude. You knew me and had listened to the things I said in the night, and heard me in the bathroom and laughed at my raggedy girdle and I laughed too because I knew you too, Jude. So how could you leave me when you knew me?鈥�
Or this description of the horror of routine:
鈥淭he real hell of Hell is that it is forever.' Sula said that. She said doing anything forever and ever was hell.鈥�
These words come from characters who would be described as "uneducated", but who share the timeless wisdom of humankind; that kind of knowledge who seems to be inherited from mothers to daughters, fathers to sons, like it's written in our genes. This is what makes good poetry. And this is why I love Toni: because there is no one, in the whole world; man or woman, child or adult, black or white, who would not understand her words with their own heart.
R.I.P.
'I don鈥檛 want to make somebody else. I want to make myself.鈥�
I found Toni Morrison to be one of the most consistent authors I ever read. And, with her being one of my favourite writers of all time, this means I found all her books I read to this day extremely interesting and deeply touching. Not only she was consistent with her style, but also with her themes, characters, and general tone of her stories. Toni spoke about women, power, life, the absurdity and inevitability of human weakness. There are few other authors who can make me feel such deep emotions and connect so authentically with characters who live a completely different life than my own. She never fails to make me shed a tear.
This book was no exception: short, raw, unapologetic; the story of the community of "The Bottom" refuses to sugarcoat the roughness of black people's lives in the 1920s-40s, and it's filled with pain, guilt, regret, timeless women's wisdom and the sheer horror of the human condition. In a world where happiness seems to be a forgotten concept - only good for children and people who don't know better - women and men thrive and, against all odds, they love, laugh, cry, and survive. There are moments, in this book - especially the very ending - which struck me with the depth of their truth. I truly believe Toni had one of the deepest insights on the real meaning of life in history. It's not rare at all, for me, to read one of her books and have to stop and think about how she just gave an explanation for one of the greatest mysteries of reality. Take, for example, this description of the loneliness of a single woman and the loneliness of a married, unhappy one:
鈥淟onely, ain't it?
Yes, but my lonely is mine. Now your lonely is somebody else's. Made by somebody else and handed to you. Ain't that something? A secondhand lonely.鈥�
And this desperate, incredibly touching declaration of love of an abandoned woman:
鈥淏ut Jude,' she would say, 'you knew me. All those days and years, Jude, you knew me. My ways and my hands and how my stomach folded and how we tried to get Mickey to nurse and how about that time when the landlord said...but you said...and I cried, Jude. You knew me and had listened to the things I said in the night, and heard me in the bathroom and laughed at my raggedy girdle and I laughed too because I knew you too, Jude. So how could you leave me when you knew me?鈥�
Or this description of the horror of routine:
鈥淭he real hell of Hell is that it is forever.' Sula said that. She said doing anything forever and ever was hell.鈥�
These words come from characters who would be described as "uneducated", but who share the timeless wisdom of humankind; that kind of knowledge who seems to be inherited from mothers to daughters, fathers to sons, like it's written in our genes. This is what makes good poetry. And this is why I love Toni: because there is no one, in the whole world; man or woman, child or adult, black or white, who would not understand her words with their own heart.
R.I.P.
April 20, 2020
Toni Morrison has always been one of my favorite writers, and I mourned her recent passing. Sula is not her greatest work (that, in my opinion, would be Beloved), but it is a wonderful story of growing up as a black woman and compares two life choices: be the obedient (occasionally battered wife) or become the vamp. Sula chooses the latter while Nel, her best friend chooses the former. After a tragic incident by the river, the two women's lives diverge and we see the Bottom transform over time from the 20s to the 60s. Beautifully narrated with great dialog and vivid characters, it is a real pleasure to read, again and again.
Toni's descriptions can be so alive and full of life. Here are a few of my favorite passages:
Her bare feet would raise the saffron dust that floated down on the coveralls and bunion-split shoes of the man breathing music in and out of the harmonica. The black people watching her would laugh and rub their knees, and it would be easy for the valley man to hear the laughter and not notice the adult pain that rested somewhere under the eyelids, somewhere under their headrags, somewhere on the palm of the hand, somewhere behind the frayed lapels, somewhere in the sinew's curve. (p. 4)
Shadrack, the half-crazed witness, the bard, comes back from the Great War disheveled: he took the blanket and covered his head, rendering he water dark enough to see the reflection. There in the toilet water he saw a grave black face. A black so definite, so unequivocal, it astonished him. He had been harboring a skittish apprehension that he was not real - that he didn't exist at all. But when the blackness greeted him with its indisputable presence, he wanted nothing more. In his joy, he took the risk of letting one edge of the blanket drip and glanced at his hands. They were still. Courteously still. (p. 13)
Helene and Nel make a voyage to New Orleans where they had to make do with the fields for their needs because the toilets were for whites only. Helene could not only fold leaves as well as the fat woman, she never felt a stir as she passed under the muddy eyes of the men who stood like wrecked Dorics under the station roods of those towns. (p. 24).
It was poisonous, unnatural to let the dead go with a mere whispering, a slight murmur, a rose bouquet of good taste. Good taste was out of place in the company of death, death itself was the essence of bad taste. And there must be much rage and saliva in its presence. The body must move and throw itself about, the eyes must roll, the hands should have no peace, and the throat should release all the yearning, despair and outrage that accompany the stupidity of loss. (p. 107)
Finally, a nice passage about the relentless femininity of Sula: She had been looking all along for a friend, and it took her a while to discover that a lover was not a comrade and could never be - for a woman. And that no one would ever be that version of herself which she sought to reach out to and touch with an ungloved hand There was only her own mood and whim, and if that was all there was, she decided to turn the naked hand toward it, discover it and let others become as intimate wth their own selves as she was. (p. 121)
Toni Morrison was uniquely gifted with words to express the deepest feelings of lust, love and grief and Sula certainly gives a timeless portrait of heartbreak and desire.
Fino's Toni Morrison Reviews:
The Bluest Eye
Sula
Song Of Solomon
Tar Baby
Beloved
Jazz
Paradise
Toni's descriptions can be so alive and full of life. Here are a few of my favorite passages:
Her bare feet would raise the saffron dust that floated down on the coveralls and bunion-split shoes of the man breathing music in and out of the harmonica. The black people watching her would laugh and rub their knees, and it would be easy for the valley man to hear the laughter and not notice the adult pain that rested somewhere under the eyelids, somewhere under their headrags, somewhere on the palm of the hand, somewhere behind the frayed lapels, somewhere in the sinew's curve. (p. 4)
Shadrack, the half-crazed witness, the bard, comes back from the Great War disheveled: he took the blanket and covered his head, rendering he water dark enough to see the reflection. There in the toilet water he saw a grave black face. A black so definite, so unequivocal, it astonished him. He had been harboring a skittish apprehension that he was not real - that he didn't exist at all. But when the blackness greeted him with its indisputable presence, he wanted nothing more. In his joy, he took the risk of letting one edge of the blanket drip and glanced at his hands. They were still. Courteously still. (p. 13)
Helene and Nel make a voyage to New Orleans where they had to make do with the fields for their needs because the toilets were for whites only. Helene could not only fold leaves as well as the fat woman, she never felt a stir as she passed under the muddy eyes of the men who stood like wrecked Dorics under the station roods of those towns. (p. 24).
It was poisonous, unnatural to let the dead go with a mere whispering, a slight murmur, a rose bouquet of good taste. Good taste was out of place in the company of death, death itself was the essence of bad taste. And there must be much rage and saliva in its presence. The body must move and throw itself about, the eyes must roll, the hands should have no peace, and the throat should release all the yearning, despair and outrage that accompany the stupidity of loss. (p. 107)
Finally, a nice passage about the relentless femininity of Sula: She had been looking all along for a friend, and it took her a while to discover that a lover was not a comrade and could never be - for a woman. And that no one would ever be that version of herself which she sought to reach out to and touch with an ungloved hand There was only her own mood and whim, and if that was all there was, she decided to turn the naked hand toward it, discover it and let others become as intimate wth their own selves as she was. (p. 121)
Toni Morrison was uniquely gifted with words to express the deepest feelings of lust, love and grief and Sula certainly gives a timeless portrait of heartbreak and desire.
Fino's Toni Morrison Reviews:
The Bluest Eye
Sula
Song Of Solomon
Tar Baby
Beloved
Jazz
Paradise
September 26, 2023
I liked that this book focused on a friendship between two Black women living in a conservative Midwestern town. Toni Morrison highlights the depth of friendship and the range of emotions it can elicit: connectedness and love, betrayal, sadness, wonder, grief, and more. There鈥檚 interesting commentary in the novel both about race as well as the centering of men and how men mistreat Black women for their own advantage. I found the novel a bit slight and wanted more depth or even scenes and content related to Sula and Nel鈥檚 friendship, however, I recognize the book鈥檚 importance in the literary canon.
October 18, 2014
I always thought of Toni Morrison as one of those writers that your mother reads. Y'know, somewhere in the realms of Danielle Steel. How wrong was I eh? For something so short, the breadth of time and story is remarkable. I loved the dichotomous friendship of Nel and Sula and its eventual result. This novel is surprisingly disgusting as well, like Bret Easton Ellis disturbing. I like twisted tales though and I definitely like Morrison. More like this please!
March 19, 2024
I just 肠补苍鈥檛 believe Toni Morrison is real.
October 25, 2021
'The Bottom' is a community of black families in the hills above the valley city of Medallion, Ohio where white families live.
The story begins in the early 1920's - just after the end of WWI - and traumatized soldiers are returning to town. The main characters in the story are Nel and Sula, who bond as young schoolgirls in 'The Bottom.'
Nel is the only child of a repressed mother determined to control every aspect of Nel's life.....
鈥�..while Sula grows up in a rather raucous extended family. This includes her grandmother Eva - an elegant woman who lost a leg in mysterious circumstances;
Her mother Hannah - a free-spirit who exudes sex appeal and beds almost every man she meets;
A disturbed alcoholic renter;
And Eva's other children - Plum and Eva Jr. Some members of the household are lost in various tragic circumstances that are difficult to comprehend and which probably affect Sula deeply.
Nel and Sula accidentally cause the death of a young boy, which they keep secret. They also engage in the usual youthful antics, enticing young men and dreaming of their futures.
Then Sula leaves town and Nel marries a local boy, has children, and becomes a respected member of the community.
Ten years later Sula returns and Nel is thrilled; however there is soon an irreparable break in the women's relationship which throws Nel's life off kilter.
Moreover, Sula generally acts with such abandon (copying some of her own mother's behavior) that most local people label her a witch and shun her.
This is rather slight story whose strength lies in the memorable characters - and Toni Morrison is a master of characterization. With relatively brief but pithy descriptions and scenes she gives us a feel for the motivation of the important characters. We're able to understand (a little) about their turmoil and why they behave as they do - causing heartache and chaos around themselves.
I'm not quite sure I 'enjoyed' the book per se (as I found parts quite disturbing) but it's certainly worth reading.
You can follow my reviews at
February 8, 2019
螤委蟽蠅 伪蟺蠈 蟿慰谓 伪蠀蟿维蟻蔚蟽魏慰, 畏纬蔚渭慰谓喂魏蠈 魏蠀渭伪蟿喂蟽渭蠈 蟿畏蟼 伪蟽蟿蔚蟻蠈蔚蟽蟽伪蟼 魏伪喂 蟺苇蟻伪 伪蟺蠈 蟿伪 蠀蟺慰魏蟻喂蟿喂魏维 位蔚蠀魏维 蠂伪渭蠈纬蔚位伪 蟿蠅谓 渭蔚纬伪位慰伪蟽蟿蠋谓 蟽蟿喂蟼 蔚尉蠋胃蠀蟻蔚蟼 蟿蠅谓 蔚蠀蟻蠉蠂蠅蟻蠅谓 蟽蟺喂蟿喂蠋谓 蟿慰蠀蟼, 蠀蟺萎蟻蠂蔚 伪谓苇魏伪胃蔚谓 畏 螒渭蔚蟻喂魏萎 蟿蠅谓 维位位蠅谓鈭� 蟿蠅谓 伪蟺蠈魏位畏蟻蠅谓, 蟿蠅谓 蟺伪蟻喂蠋谓, 蠈位蠅谓 蔚魏蔚委谓蠅谓 蟺慰蠀 畏 胃苇蟽畏 蟿慰蠀蟼 蟽蟿畏谓 魏慰喂谓蠅谓喂魏萎 蟺蠀蟻伪渭委未伪 蔚委蠂蔚 蟺蟻慰魏伪胃慰蟻喂蟽蟿蔚委 伪蟺蠈 蟿慰 蠂蟻蠋渭伪 蟿慰蠀 未苇蟻渭伪蟿蠈蟼 蟿慰蠀蟼鈭� 蟺慰蠀 蔚委蟿蔚 纬蔚谓谓喂蠈谓蟿慰蠀蟽伪谓 未慰蠉位慰喂, 蔚委蟿蔚 伪蟺位蠋蟼 蠁蟿蠅蠂慰委, 蟿伪 蠁蟿蔚蟻维 蟿慰蠀蟼 萎蟿伪谓 蟺维谓蟿慰蟿蔚 蟿蟽伪魏喂蟽渭苇谓伪. 螁谓胃蟻蠅蟺慰喂 蟺慰蠀 萎蟿伪谓 伪蟺慰蠁伪蟽喂蟽渭苇谓慰喂 谓伪 蔚蟺喂尾喂蠋蟽慰蠀谓, 芦谓伪 味萎蟽慰蠀谓 蔚谓维谓蟿喂伪 蟽蟿喂蟼 蟺位畏渭渭蠉蟻蔚蟼, 蟿慰蠀蟼 位蔚蠀魏慰蠉蟼, 蟿畏 蠁蠀渭伪蟿委蠅蟽畏, 蟿畏谓 蟺蔚委谓伪 魏伪喂 蟿畏谓 维纬谓慰喂伪禄路 蟺慰蠀 纬谓蠋蟻喂味伪谓 蟿慰谓 胃蠀渭蠈, 伪位位维 蠈蠂喂 魏伪喂 蟿畏谓 伪蟺蔚位蟺喂蟽委伪, 芦蟺慰蠀 未蔚谓 位喂胃慰尾慰位慰蠉蟽伪谓 蟿慰蠀蟼 伪渭伪蟻蟿蠅位慰蠉蟼, 纬喂伪 蟿慰谓 委未喂慰 位蠈纬慰 蟺慰蠀 未蔚谓 伪蠀蟿慰魏蟿慰谓慰蠉蟽伪谓 鈥� 萎蟿伪谓 魏维蟿喂 魏伪蟿蠋蟿蔚蟻蠈 蟿慰蠀蟼.禄 螒蠀蟿慰委 慰喂 维谓胃蟻蠅蟺慰喂 魏喂 伪蠀蟿萎 畏 螒渭蔚蟻喂魏萎 尾蟻委蟽魏慰谓蟿伪喂 蟽蟿慰谓 伪蠁畏纬畏渭伪蟿喂魏蠈 蟺蠀蟻萎谓伪 蟿慰蠀 苇蟻纬慰蠀 蟿畏蟼 (伪纬伪蟺畏渭苇谓畏蟼 渭慰蠀) 韦蠈谓喂 螠蠈蟻喂蟽慰谓.
危蟿慰 渭蠀胃喂蟽蟿慰蟻畏渭伪蟿喂魏蠈 伪蠀蟿蠈 蟽蠉渭蟺伪谓, 畏 Sula Peace 未喂蔚魏未喂魏蔚委 蟿畏 未喂魏萎 蟿畏蟼 尉蔚蠂蠅蟻喂蟽蟿萎 胃苇蟽畏. 危魏慰蠉蟻伪, 蠈蟺蠅蟼 蠈位蔚蟼 慰喂 畏蟻蠅委未蔚蟼 蟿畏蟼 螠蠈蟻喂蟽慰谓, 渭蔚 未蠀慰 渭蔚纬维位伪, 萎蟽蠀蠂伪 渭维蟿喂伪. 螝喂 苇谓伪 蟽畏渭维未喂 蔚魏 纬蔚谓蔚蟿萎蟼 蟺慰蠀 苇渭慰喂伪味蔚 渭蔚 蟿蟻喂伪谓蟿维蠁蠀位位慰 未委蠂蠅蟼 魏慰蟿蟽维谓喂, 蟺维谓蠅 伪蟺蠈 蟿慰 尾位苇蠁伪蟻慰 蟿慰蠀 未蔚尉喂慰蠉 蟿畏蟼 渭伪蟿喂慰蠉 魏喂 委蟽伪渭蔚 蟿慰 蠁蟻蠉未喂. 螠慰谓伪蠂慰蟺伪委未喂, 渭蔚纬伪位蠅渭苇谓畏 蠂蠅蟻委蟼 蟺伪蟿苇蟻伪 蟽鈥� 苇谓伪 蟽蟺委蟿喂 纬蔚渭维蟿慰 蟺蟻维纬渭伪蟿伪, 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺慰蠀蟼, 蠁蠅谓苇蟼 魏伪喂 胃慰蟻蠉尾慰蠀蟼. 螢蔚蠂蠅蟻喂蟽蟿萎, 蠈蟽慰 魏伪喂 蟿慰 蟽畏渭维未喂 蟿畏蟼, 苇蠁蠀纬蔚 伪蟺蠈 蟿畏 纬蔚谓苇胃位喂伪 蟺蠈位畏 蟿畏蟼, 蟺蔚蟻喂蟺位伪谓萎胃畏魏蔚 蟽蟿喂蟼 渭蔚纬伪位慰蠀蟺蠈位蔚喂蟼 蟿蠅谓 螚.螤.螒., 魏喂 蔚蟺苇蟽蟿蟻蔚蠄蔚, 蟺蔚蟻喂蟽蟽蠈蟿蔚蟻慰 纬喂伪 谓鈥� 伪谓蟿伪渭蠋蟽蔚喂 尉伪谓维 渭蔚 蟿畏谓 伪未蔚位蠁喂魏萎 蟿畏蟼 蠁委位畏, Nel Wright. 螌渭蠅蟼, 畏 Nel 未蔚谓 萎蟿伪谓 慰 委未喂慰蟼 维谓胃蟻蠅蟺慰蟼 蟺慰蠀 蔚委蠂蔚 伪蠁萎蟽蔚喂 蟺委蟽蠅 蟿畏蟼, 慰蠉蟿蔚 魏喂 畏 渭喂魏蟻萎 魏慰喂谓蠅谓委伪 蟿慰蠀 螠蔚谓蟿维位位喂慰谓 危委蟿蠀 苇蟿慰喂渭畏 谓鈥� 伪蟺慰未蔚蠂蟿蔚委 蟿畏 Sula 魏伪喂 蟿畏 未喂伪蠁慰蟻蔚蟿喂魏蠈蟿畏蟿维 蟿畏蟼.
韦蟻委伪 蠂蟻蠈谓喂伪 渭蔚蟿维 蟿伪 螕伪位维味喂伪 螠维蟿喂伪 (1970), 畏 Toni Morrison, 渭苇蟽伪 伪蟺蠈 蟿畏 未喂萎纬畏蟽畏 蟿畏蟼 尉蔚蠂蠅蟻喂蟽蟿萎蟼 喂蟽蟿慰蟻委伪蟼 蟿畏蟼 Sula Peace, 魏伪位蠅蟽蠈蟻喂蟽蔚 蟽蟿慰 位慰纬慰蟿蔚蠂谓喂魏蠈 纬委纬谓蔚蟽胃伪喂 渭喂伪谓 伪魏蠈渭畏 伪谓蟿喂蟽蠀渭尾伪蟿喂魏萎 畏蟻蠅委未伪, 蟺慰蠀 芦苇味畏蟽蔚 蟿畏 味蠅萎 蟿畏蟼 蠄畏位伪蠁畏蟿维, 蟽伪 谓伪 鈥樝勎蔽� 苇谓伪 蟽蠀谓蔚蠂苇蟼 蟺蔚委蟻伪渭伪路 蟺蟻蠈胃蠀渭畏 谓伪 谓喂蠋蟽蔚喂 蟺蠈谓慰, 蠈蟽慰 魏伪喂 谓伪 未蠋蟽蔚喂 蟺蠈谓慰, 谓伪 谓喂蠋蟽蔚喂 畏未慰谓萎, 蠈蟽慰 魏伪喂 谓伪 未蠋蟽蔚喂 畏未慰谓萎.禄
危蟿慰 渭蠀胃喂蟽蟿慰蟻畏渭伪蟿喂魏蠈 伪蠀蟿蠈 蟽蠉渭蟺伪谓, 畏 Sula Peace 未喂蔚魏未喂魏蔚委 蟿畏 未喂魏萎 蟿畏蟼 尉蔚蠂蠅蟻喂蟽蟿萎 胃苇蟽畏. 危魏慰蠉蟻伪, 蠈蟺蠅蟼 蠈位蔚蟼 慰喂 畏蟻蠅委未蔚蟼 蟿畏蟼 螠蠈蟻喂蟽慰谓, 渭蔚 未蠀慰 渭蔚纬维位伪, 萎蟽蠀蠂伪 渭维蟿喂伪. 螝喂 苇谓伪 蟽畏渭维未喂 蔚魏 纬蔚谓蔚蟿萎蟼 蟺慰蠀 苇渭慰喂伪味蔚 渭蔚 蟿蟻喂伪谓蟿维蠁蠀位位慰 未委蠂蠅蟼 魏慰蟿蟽维谓喂, 蟺维谓蠅 伪蟺蠈 蟿慰 尾位苇蠁伪蟻慰 蟿慰蠀 未蔚尉喂慰蠉 蟿畏蟼 渭伪蟿喂慰蠉 魏喂 委蟽伪渭蔚 蟿慰 蠁蟻蠉未喂. 螠慰谓伪蠂慰蟺伪委未喂, 渭蔚纬伪位蠅渭苇谓畏 蠂蠅蟻委蟼 蟺伪蟿苇蟻伪 蟽鈥� 苇谓伪 蟽蟺委蟿喂 纬蔚渭维蟿慰 蟺蟻维纬渭伪蟿伪, 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺慰蠀蟼, 蠁蠅谓苇蟼 魏伪喂 胃慰蟻蠉尾慰蠀蟼. 螢蔚蠂蠅蟻喂蟽蟿萎, 蠈蟽慰 魏伪喂 蟿慰 蟽畏渭维未喂 蟿畏蟼, 苇蠁蠀纬蔚 伪蟺蠈 蟿畏 纬蔚谓苇胃位喂伪 蟺蠈位畏 蟿畏蟼, 蟺蔚蟻喂蟺位伪谓萎胃畏魏蔚 蟽蟿喂蟼 渭蔚纬伪位慰蠀蟺蠈位蔚喂蟼 蟿蠅谓 螚.螤.螒., 魏喂 蔚蟺苇蟽蟿蟻蔚蠄蔚, 蟺蔚蟻喂蟽蟽蠈蟿蔚蟻慰 纬喂伪 谓鈥� 伪谓蟿伪渭蠋蟽蔚喂 尉伪谓维 渭蔚 蟿畏谓 伪未蔚位蠁喂魏萎 蟿畏蟼 蠁委位畏, Nel Wright. 螌渭蠅蟼, 畏 Nel 未蔚谓 萎蟿伪谓 慰 委未喂慰蟼 维谓胃蟻蠅蟺慰蟼 蟺慰蠀 蔚委蠂蔚 伪蠁萎蟽蔚喂 蟺委蟽蠅 蟿畏蟼, 慰蠉蟿蔚 魏喂 畏 渭喂魏蟻萎 魏慰喂谓蠅谓委伪 蟿慰蠀 螠蔚谓蟿维位位喂慰谓 危委蟿蠀 苇蟿慰喂渭畏 谓鈥� 伪蟺慰未蔚蠂蟿蔚委 蟿畏 Sula 魏伪喂 蟿畏 未喂伪蠁慰蟻蔚蟿喂魏蠈蟿畏蟿维 蟿畏蟼.
韦蟻委伪 蠂蟻蠈谓喂伪 渭蔚蟿维 蟿伪 螕伪位维味喂伪 螠维蟿喂伪 (1970), 畏 Toni Morrison, 渭苇蟽伪 伪蟺蠈 蟿畏 未喂萎纬畏蟽畏 蟿畏蟼 尉蔚蠂蠅蟻喂蟽蟿萎蟼 喂蟽蟿慰蟻委伪蟼 蟿畏蟼 Sula Peace, 魏伪位蠅蟽蠈蟻喂蟽蔚 蟽蟿慰 位慰纬慰蟿蔚蠂谓喂魏蠈 纬委纬谓蔚蟽胃伪喂 渭喂伪谓 伪魏蠈渭畏 伪谓蟿喂蟽蠀渭尾伪蟿喂魏萎 畏蟻蠅委未伪, 蟺慰蠀 芦苇味畏蟽蔚 蟿畏 味蠅萎 蟿畏蟼 蠄畏位伪蠁畏蟿维, 蟽伪 谓伪 鈥樝勎蔽� 苇谓伪 蟽蠀谓蔚蠂苇蟼 蟺蔚委蟻伪渭伪路 蟺蟻蠈胃蠀渭畏 谓伪 谓喂蠋蟽蔚喂 蟺蠈谓慰, 蠈蟽慰 魏伪喂 谓伪 未蠋蟽蔚喂 蟺蠈谓慰, 谓伪 谓喂蠋蟽蔚喂 畏未慰谓萎, 蠈蟽慰 魏伪喂 谓伪 未蠋蟽蔚喂 畏未慰谓萎.禄
August 18, 2019
I listened to the audiobook of this and I have to say that having Toni Morrison read to me each day made something shift inside me. It was kind of like having a little guardian angel in my ear. Many have complained about her reading style. She doesn't read like most professional readers do. Her voice ebbs and flows, often ignoring punctuation. But to me, her voice moved like a river, speaking to something deep inside me, a sweet rumble, a purr. I couldn't get enough of it.
I hadn't read this book before and I love what it has to say about friendship. After it I just want to read Toni Morrison forever.
Update: the audio is still amazing. But this time through I realized that this isn't really a book about friendship at all. It's about the ways women get by either inside of or out of society. This time I could just feel deep in my soul that this is a book written by a divorced woman who does not need a man but who remembers what it felt like before she realized that and oh it spoke to me.
I hadn't read this book before and I love what it has to say about friendship. After it I just want to read Toni Morrison forever.
Update: the audio is still amazing. But this time through I realized that this isn't really a book about friendship at all. It's about the ways women get by either inside of or out of society. This time I could just feel deep in my soul that this is a book written by a divorced woman who does not need a man but who remembers what it felt like before she realized that and oh it spoke to me.
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