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禺丕賳赖
賲賳 丌賳噩丕 亘賵丿賲貙 爻丕毓鬲鈥屬囏� 賵 爻丕毓鬲鈥屬囏� 亘賴 蹖讴 丿蹖賵丕乇 賲賵賯鬲蹖 鬲讴蹖賴 丿丕丿賴 亘賵丿賲. 趩蹖夭蹖 亘乇丕蹖 丿蹖丿賳 賳亘賵丿 鈥屫� 丿賴讴丿賴鈥屫й� 丌乇丕賲 丌賳 倬丕蹖蹖賳貙 爻賯賮鈥屬囏й� 倬賵卮丕賱蹖 禺丕賳赖鈥屬囏� 鬲賯賱蹖丿蹖 亘賵丿賳丿 丕夭 鬲倬賴鈥屬囏й� 丿賵乇丿爻鬲貙 丕賳亘賵賴蹖 亘丕賲亘賵賽 蹖禺鈥屫藏� 丿乇 爻賲鬲 趩倬 賲賳 爻乇 丕夭 亘乇賮 亘蹖乇賵賳 丌賵乇丿賴 亘賵丿. 丌賳噩丕 噩丕蹖蹖 亘賵丿 讴賴 賲丕 丌卮睾丕賱鈥屬囏р€屬呚з� 乇丕 賲蹖鈥屫臂屫屬�. 鬲丕 丌賳噩丕 讴賴 賲蹖鈥屫堌з嗀池� 賴賵卮蹖丕乇 亘賵丿賲. 诏賵卮 賲蹖鈥屫ж� 賵 賴乇 賳卮丕賳賴鈥屫й� 丕夭 趩卮賲鈥屫ㄘжз呟屸€屬囏� 蹖丕 讴爻丕賳蹖 乇丕 賲蹖鈥屫屫� 讴賴 讴賱丕賴 賱亘賴鈥屫ж� 亘賴 爻乇 丿丕卮鬲賳丿. 丕睾賱亘 丨乇讴鬲蹖 賳亘賵丿. 丕賲丕 蹖讴 鈥屫辟堌� 亘毓丿丕夭馗賴乇 氐丿丕蹖 禺卮鈥屫� 丌乇丕賲蹖 乇丕 賲蹖丕賳 爻丕賯賴鈥屬囏й� 亘丕賲亘賵 卮賳蹖丿賲. 賮賯胤 蹖讴鈥� 趩蹖夭 丿乇 丨乇讴鬲 亘賵丿. 賲蹖鈥屫з嗀池� 賳亘丕蹖丿 丿卮賲賳 亘丕卮賭丿 賭賭 丌賳鈥屬囏� 賴乇诏賭夭 鬲讴鈥屬嗁佖臂� 賳賲蹖鈥屫①呚嗀� 賭賭 倬爻 賮讴賭乇 讴乇丿賲 卮賭丕蹖丿 蹖讴 亘亘賭乇 亘丕卮丿. 賲蹖鈥屭佖嗀� 亘亘乇賴丕 丿乇 鬲倬賴鈥屬囏� 倬乇爻賴 賲蹖鈥屫操嗁嗀� 丕賲丕 賴蹖趩鈥屭┴� 亘亘乇蹖 賳丿蹖丿賴 亘賵丿. 亘毓丿 丿蹖丿賲 爻丕賯賴鈥屬囏й� 亘丕賲亘賵 丕夭 賴賲 噩丿丕 賵 亘賴 胤乇賮 夭賲蹖賳 禺賲 卮丿賳丿.
138 pages, Paperback
First published May 8, 2012
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About the author
Toni Morrison
240听books22.1k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 3,358 reviews
September 12, 2024
Frank is a black Korean War veteran, a year out, suffering PTSD, imprisoned in a mental hospital for actions he cannot remember. He has been engaging in a range of self-destructive behaviors that have led him to this bedraggled state. He had received a letter concerning his sister, 鈥淐ome fast. She be dead if you tarry,鈥� and must find his way home. There are barriers to be overcome, people who will help, and memories to be relived. One mystery that propels the tale is what happened to cause Frank鈥檚 demise.
Toni Morrison - 1931-2019 - image from her FB pages
Home gives the appearance of simplicity. But, this being Toni Morrison, there is always more, much more. First is that Frank鈥檚 journey bears a striking resemblance in some ways to that of Odysseus. He is a soldier returning from war. The mental institution from which he escapes seems reminiscent of a certain classical witch鈥檚 lair. He must cope with a grumpy one-eyed man, is drawn briefly to the sound of sirens, and, in memory at least, sees animals standing like men, reminding one of pigs that had been something else once. (He and his sister even see, as children, the outcome of men having been transformed into dogs) The home town to which he seeks to return is Lotus, Louisiana, a place where 鈥渢here was no goal other than breathing, nothing to win and, save for somebody else鈥檚 quiet death, nothing to survive or worth surviving for.鈥�
More generically, there are dragons to be slain in order for Frank to return to and save his damsel in distress. Taken yet another way, after Frank has descended into the depths of hell, he emerges stronger and better able to triumph. A Greek chorus is called on to explain what the children (Frank and his sister) see in the opening scene, and whenever someone says 鈥淲e led him out on a mule鈥� you can probably assume it is a biblical reference. There is even what might arguably be considered a Jesus sighting, when a mysterious individual offers Frank a hand and urges him to 鈥淪tay in the light.鈥� Toss in an exodus for good measure. So, a pot pourri of classical references, both religious and secular.
On another layer, Morrison offers us a portrait of what it was like to be black in the fifties. This includes the joys of Jim Crow, whites-only restaurants, police license to stop and frisk anyone at any time, even to shoot children, with little fear of being held accountable, forced sterilization, redlining, covenant restrictions. And, in addition, Morrison shows how humiliation of black men might impact their women.
And there are recollections of further horrors from a generation before. Forced migrations, seizure of private property by men with guns, whether governmental or non, lynchings, forcing black people to engage in mortal dog-fights.
But there are flickers of light in the darkness. Kindness rears its smiling head. Conductors of one sort and another help Frank along on his quest, as he heads from the generic 鈥淐entral City鈥� south to a more pastoral place, to restore his family. On escaping the mental institution he sees a sign for the Zion church, a powerful symbol of longing for a safe homeland, an equivalent maybe for the promised land of Canada for blacks journeying north in an earlier age.
Although I have read several of her books, I will leave to those whose familiarity with the work far exceeds mine the task of comparing Home with 惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 other novels, these characters with those, these situations and themes with others she has written before.
The central idea of the book is the notion of home. Is home to be found in Lotus, Louisiana? Maybe Chicago? A mythical promised land? America? When we think of the word 鈥渉ome鈥� I imagine most of us conjure feelings of warmth, family, community. But what if home is not such a welcoming place? When Frank Money returns home from his service in the Korean War, the USA that shipped him there does not exactly respond with open arms. For many, home is the place from which you are driven.
As with most journey stories, this is one of self-discovery. Not only is Frank heading back from whence he came in order to save his sister, but to face himself, and in so doing to find where home truly lies for him. Echoing the words of the poem Morrison uses to open the book,
Although this is Frank鈥檚 story, we are given enough time with a few other characters to engage us in following their journeys as well. Frank鈥檚 sister, Cee, behaves like the immature girl she is and pays a heavy price, searching for a home with an exciting new husband, and then working in a household that harbors dark secrets. We get to know her well enough to care. Frank鈥檚 unpleasant stepmother is shown in soft light as well as harsh. And the woman with whom he is smitten, Lily, is given her stroll across the stage as well, and provides a mechanism by which to highlight a bit of the era鈥檚 McCarthyism.
Home may not be an epic tale of Homeric length. But it is very rich and layered, and will reward close reading immensely.
=============================EXTRA STUFF
惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 page - Morrison passed in 2019. The page is maintained by Knopf.
Interviews
----- GR interview by Catherine Elsworth
----- 鈥� with Elissa Schappel
----- by Torrance Boone - video - 1:00:37
-----The Guardian - by Emma Brockes
Reviews of other Morrison work
-----2014 - God Help the Child
-----2008 - A Mercy
-----1987 -
Read but not reviewed
-----1977 - Song of Solomon
-----1973 - Sula
Toni Morrison - 1931-2019 - image from her FB pages
Home gives the appearance of simplicity. But, this being Toni Morrison, there is always more, much more. First is that Frank鈥檚 journey bears a striking resemblance in some ways to that of Odysseus. He is a soldier returning from war. The mental institution from which he escapes seems reminiscent of a certain classical witch鈥檚 lair. He must cope with a grumpy one-eyed man, is drawn briefly to the sound of sirens, and, in memory at least, sees animals standing like men, reminding one of pigs that had been something else once. (He and his sister even see, as children, the outcome of men having been transformed into dogs) The home town to which he seeks to return is Lotus, Louisiana, a place where 鈥渢here was no goal other than breathing, nothing to win and, save for somebody else鈥檚 quiet death, nothing to survive or worth surviving for.鈥�
More generically, there are dragons to be slain in order for Frank to return to and save his damsel in distress. Taken yet another way, after Frank has descended into the depths of hell, he emerges stronger and better able to triumph. A Greek chorus is called on to explain what the children (Frank and his sister) see in the opening scene, and whenever someone says 鈥淲e led him out on a mule鈥� you can probably assume it is a biblical reference. There is even what might arguably be considered a Jesus sighting, when a mysterious individual offers Frank a hand and urges him to 鈥淪tay in the light.鈥� Toss in an exodus for good measure. So, a pot pourri of classical references, both religious and secular.
On another layer, Morrison offers us a portrait of what it was like to be black in the fifties. This includes the joys of Jim Crow, whites-only restaurants, police license to stop and frisk anyone at any time, even to shoot children, with little fear of being held accountable, forced sterilization, redlining, covenant restrictions. And, in addition, Morrison shows how humiliation of black men might impact their women.
He will beat her when they get home, thought Frank. And who wouldn鈥檛? It鈥檚 one thing to be publicly humiliated. A man could move on from that. What was intolerable was the witness of a woman, a wife, who not only saw it, but had dared to try to rescue鈥攔escue!鈥攈im. He couldn鈥檛 protect himself and he couldn鈥檛 protect her either, as the rock in her face proved. She would have to pay for that broken nose. Over and over again.This is not the only example to be found here of people paying forward the harsh treatment they have received.
And there are recollections of further horrors from a generation before. Forced migrations, seizure of private property by men with guns, whether governmental or non, lynchings, forcing black people to engage in mortal dog-fights.
But there are flickers of light in the darkness. Kindness rears its smiling head. Conductors of one sort and another help Frank along on his quest, as he heads from the generic 鈥淐entral City鈥� south to a more pastoral place, to restore his family. On escaping the mental institution he sees a sign for the Zion church, a powerful symbol of longing for a safe homeland, an equivalent maybe for the promised land of Canada for blacks journeying north in an earlier age.
Although I have read several of her books, I will leave to those whose familiarity with the work far exceeds mine the task of comparing Home with 惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 other novels, these characters with those, these situations and themes with others she has written before.
The central idea of the book is the notion of home. Is home to be found in Lotus, Louisiana? Maybe Chicago? A mythical promised land? America? When we think of the word 鈥渉ome鈥� I imagine most of us conjure feelings of warmth, family, community. But what if home is not such a welcoming place? When Frank Money returns home from his service in the Korean War, the USA that shipped him there does not exactly respond with open arms. For many, home is the place from which you are driven.
As with most journey stories, this is one of self-discovery. Not only is Frank heading back from whence he came in order to save his sister, but to face himself, and in so doing to find where home truly lies for him. Echoing the words of the poem Morrison uses to open the book,
This house is strange.the home Frank dreams of is not the one he truly owns. His is a much darker abode. He must confront the memories from which he flees in order to be able to find his true home, his true self.
Its shadows lie
Say, tell me why does its lock fit my key
Although this is Frank鈥檚 story, we are given enough time with a few other characters to engage us in following their journeys as well. Frank鈥檚 sister, Cee, behaves like the immature girl she is and pays a heavy price, searching for a home with an exciting new husband, and then working in a household that harbors dark secrets. We get to know her well enough to care. Frank鈥檚 unpleasant stepmother is shown in soft light as well as harsh. And the woman with whom he is smitten, Lily, is given her stroll across the stage as well, and provides a mechanism by which to highlight a bit of the era鈥檚 McCarthyism.
Home may not be an epic tale of Homeric length. But it is very rich and layered, and will reward close reading immensely.
=============================EXTRA STUFF
惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 page - Morrison passed in 2019. The page is maintained by Knopf.
Interviews
----- GR interview by Catherine Elsworth
----- 鈥� with Elissa Schappel
----- by Torrance Boone - video - 1:00:37
-----The Guardian - by Emma Brockes
Reviews of other Morrison work
-----2014 - God Help the Child
-----2008 - A Mercy
-----1987 -
Read but not reviewed
-----1977 - Song of Solomon
-----1973 - Sula
April 17, 2023
[Edited 3/15/2022]
A Black man recently released from the Korean War is heading back home across the United States. He is traveling from the West Coast to a town in rural Georgia where his sister is in some kind of trouble.
The man has PTSD. He has 鈥榠ncidents.鈥� In fact he just escaped from a mental hospital where he was thrown in after one such unidentified incident. He is traveling south by train and bus, getting money from ministers of black churches. The south is still segregated so he often has to pee in the bushes because the restrooms are for whites only.
He doesn鈥檛 really want to go back home because of memories of the upbringing he had. He grew up with parents who had little time for him and his sister. 鈥淭heir parents were so beat by the time they came home from work, any attention they showed was like a razor 鈥� sharp, short and thin.鈥� The grandparents they had were nasty to them. This is a tiny all-Black town where folks use wood stoves and take baths in a tub on the back porch.
The man is haunted by nightmares of the atrocities that were inflicted on his comrades in Korea and by the atrocities that he and his comrades inflicted in turn, even on civilians, including children. It鈥檚 not pretty.
He is also haunted by other atrocious events from his childhood such as seeing a body being dumped from a wheel barrel into a shallow grave. We assume the buriers were white and the victim was Black.
I liked the book. I鈥檇 characterize it as 鈥榟aunting.鈥� It kept my attention - it鈥檚 short, only 145 pages. The author won the Nobel Prize in 1993, the first African American author to do so.
I note that Home is one of the author's lower-rated books on GR. Most highly-rated by GR readers are Song of Solomon and The Bluest Eye, while Beloved is her most widely read, by far.
Top photo from cdn.vox.com
Rural Georgia in 1941 from wp.com.rediscovering-back-history
The author from gannett.com
A Black man recently released from the Korean War is heading back home across the United States. He is traveling from the West Coast to a town in rural Georgia where his sister is in some kind of trouble.
The man has PTSD. He has 鈥榠ncidents.鈥� In fact he just escaped from a mental hospital where he was thrown in after one such unidentified incident. He is traveling south by train and bus, getting money from ministers of black churches. The south is still segregated so he often has to pee in the bushes because the restrooms are for whites only.
He doesn鈥檛 really want to go back home because of memories of the upbringing he had. He grew up with parents who had little time for him and his sister. 鈥淭heir parents were so beat by the time they came home from work, any attention they showed was like a razor 鈥� sharp, short and thin.鈥� The grandparents they had were nasty to them. This is a tiny all-Black town where folks use wood stoves and take baths in a tub on the back porch.
The man is haunted by nightmares of the atrocities that were inflicted on his comrades in Korea and by the atrocities that he and his comrades inflicted in turn, even on civilians, including children. It鈥檚 not pretty.
He is also haunted by other atrocious events from his childhood such as seeing a body being dumped from a wheel barrel into a shallow grave. We assume the buriers were white and the victim was Black.
I liked the book. I鈥檇 characterize it as 鈥榟aunting.鈥� It kept my attention - it鈥檚 short, only 145 pages. The author won the Nobel Prize in 1993, the first African American author to do so.
I note that Home is one of the author's lower-rated books on GR. Most highly-rated by GR readers are Song of Solomon and The Bluest Eye, while Beloved is her most widely read, by far.
Top photo from cdn.vox.com
Rural Georgia in 1941 from wp.com.rediscovering-back-history
The author from gannett.com
Read
October 18, 2020At this point I've read all of TM's novels, save one -- -- and that was a novel I at least started and wanted to get through but life got in the way. (Maybe, also, I'd gotten far enough to know it wasn't going to be my scene). As well, I've seen her read three times -- once from a year before it was published and again shortly after it was released, with the memories of that earlier reading still ringing fresh in my ears. The final time I heard her read it was from this novel, , about a year ago, some time before its release this week. She read the opening chapter, which is as vivid now as it was when I first heard it.
It's safe to say that, by now, I have a fairly set/clear opinion on Toni Morrison. I very much enjoy and admire her work, but not for the reasons people often seem tasked to name when evaluating or explaining her contribution. Yes, she's certainly had great impact on the ways we talk about race, national history, cultural memory, gender, etc. But in her most skillfully-written books (for me, these are , , , and ), Morrison's most radical contribution is that she teaches us, measure for measure, how to write a book: how to craft an opening line, an opening set of lines, how they should bud into a page, what that page should offer the chapter, what that chapter should offer the book -- how it is, in other words, that keen attention to literary form can able one to do all the things she's trying to do with the book's social and political themes. I almost always feel safe in Morrison's hands because I know that in her best work, I'll have reached the finish line with a better sense of what a novel is and what it can do: a sense that the novel, in the most formal and generic sense, can be pushed open to accommodate the lives of black people. For all the ways that she's absolutely indebted to Woolf and Faulker, per methods of literary style, I would say that there's only one other American novelist whose work stirs for me a similar sense of the genre's range of possibilities, and that's Henry James. Other great examples for me would include Jean Toomer, Austen, Fitzgerald, Hawthorne, Wharton, Flaubert, and a few others.
These are tough shoes to fill, and keep filling. It's maybe for this reason, combined with the fact that Morrison is trying to experiment with other, more lucid and orally-determined storytelling forms, that her work has since become steadily less invested in solving the problem of the novel as a formal genre, instead exploring the ways that our interest in typical novel form might be overturned. is not a bad book, but it is, for me, a less appealing and challenging one, because it seems that for Morrison, all the questions of genre have already been answered: simply put, novels aren't sufficient, so instead of trying to craft her characters' lives into perfectly gem-like versions of "the novel," we'll attempt let them exist as something else, closer to what these characters and their lives actually are.
I admire this project, and I get it, and I'd even encourage it. ...But I'm a sucker for the pristine formalism of early Morrison. It challenged, provoked and inspired me, where this novel and a few of her other more recent attempts do not. By the end of this novel, it was not clear to me why it was written this way -- why the oral, hindsight counter narrative interjections? Why the sparsity, the central focus on such a limited range of experiences and memories? Why this war? Nothing in the novel was given enough meat to seem like it was making a case for anything, which on the one hand makes sense but on the other made the novel feel half-baked.
So, this is not my favorite, but it certainly isn't bad. Still, I look forward to a day when Morrison gives as, to borrow the phrase of the critics, a "return to form." I miss the novels in which literally everything about them, from the number and shape of the chapters to the number and shape of the lines, could tell us something. 'til then...
It's safe to say that, by now, I have a fairly set/clear opinion on Toni Morrison. I very much enjoy and admire her work, but not for the reasons people often seem tasked to name when evaluating or explaining her contribution. Yes, she's certainly had great impact on the ways we talk about race, national history, cultural memory, gender, etc. But in her most skillfully-written books (for me, these are , , , and ), Morrison's most radical contribution is that she teaches us, measure for measure, how to write a book: how to craft an opening line, an opening set of lines, how they should bud into a page, what that page should offer the chapter, what that chapter should offer the book -- how it is, in other words, that keen attention to literary form can able one to do all the things she's trying to do with the book's social and political themes. I almost always feel safe in Morrison's hands because I know that in her best work, I'll have reached the finish line with a better sense of what a novel is and what it can do: a sense that the novel, in the most formal and generic sense, can be pushed open to accommodate the lives of black people. For all the ways that she's absolutely indebted to Woolf and Faulker, per methods of literary style, I would say that there's only one other American novelist whose work stirs for me a similar sense of the genre's range of possibilities, and that's Henry James. Other great examples for me would include Jean Toomer, Austen, Fitzgerald, Hawthorne, Wharton, Flaubert, and a few others.
These are tough shoes to fill, and keep filling. It's maybe for this reason, combined with the fact that Morrison is trying to experiment with other, more lucid and orally-determined storytelling forms, that her work has since become steadily less invested in solving the problem of the novel as a formal genre, instead exploring the ways that our interest in typical novel form might be overturned. is not a bad book, but it is, for me, a less appealing and challenging one, because it seems that for Morrison, all the questions of genre have already been answered: simply put, novels aren't sufficient, so instead of trying to craft her characters' lives into perfectly gem-like versions of "the novel," we'll attempt let them exist as something else, closer to what these characters and their lives actually are.
I admire this project, and I get it, and I'd even encourage it. ...But I'm a sucker for the pristine formalism of early Morrison. It challenged, provoked and inspired me, where this novel and a few of her other more recent attempts do not. By the end of this novel, it was not clear to me why it was written this way -- why the oral, hindsight counter narrative interjections? Why the sparsity, the central focus on such a limited range of experiences and memories? Why this war? Nothing in the novel was given enough meat to seem like it was making a case for anything, which on the one hand makes sense but on the other made the novel feel half-baked.
So, this is not my favorite, but it certainly isn't bad. Still, I look forward to a day when Morrison gives as, to borrow the phrase of the critics, a "return to form." I miss the novels in which literally everything about them, from the number and shape of the chapters to the number and shape of the lines, could tell us something. 'til then...
September 28, 2024
the man and his sister who come home together
馃彙 I love lit fic. Which I鈥檝e re-termed realism just as there is magical realism. Every genre has its advantages and lit fic (realism) offers us complexity, a thousand colors (some muted, some vibrant), the quest for authenticity, layer upon layer of life and truth and discovery - and pain that must be felt in order to remain alive now and long after.
Toni brings us all this and much more in her 鈥渟emi stream of consciousness鈥� style. I settled into this story prepared to be rewarded in my imagination but also aware there would be the stab point and shock point of pain as there was in Beloved. For that is one of the conundrums of life and Toni specializes in life, in real life.
Frank is a vet returning to Georgia from the Korean War. We learn about his life before the war, during the war (via flashbacks of intense trauma), and what happens once he is back in America.
His sister Cee carries the other major POV in this novel. A lot has happened to crush her spirit. She is almost dead when Frank returns and finds her.
Frank has returned from hell to help Cee out of hell. And in doing so realizes he needs release from his own hell. Not only from what the war did to him, but from what he did himself, a harsh and killing truth he has suppressed.
Beautiful writing. Powerful writing. But strong drink. Yet brother and sister come home together and start to find resolution.
馃げ馃徏 鈥淟ife for me ain鈥檛 been no crystal stair.鈥� Langston Hughes
馃彙 I love lit fic. Which I鈥檝e re-termed realism just as there is magical realism. Every genre has its advantages and lit fic (realism) offers us complexity, a thousand colors (some muted, some vibrant), the quest for authenticity, layer upon layer of life and truth and discovery - and pain that must be felt in order to remain alive now and long after.
Toni brings us all this and much more in her 鈥渟emi stream of consciousness鈥� style. I settled into this story prepared to be rewarded in my imagination but also aware there would be the stab point and shock point of pain as there was in Beloved. For that is one of the conundrums of life and Toni specializes in life, in real life.
Frank is a vet returning to Georgia from the Korean War. We learn about his life before the war, during the war (via flashbacks of intense trauma), and what happens once he is back in America.
His sister Cee carries the other major POV in this novel. A lot has happened to crush her spirit. She is almost dead when Frank returns and finds her.
Frank has returned from hell to help Cee out of hell. And in doing so realizes he needs release from his own hell. Not only from what the war did to him, but from what he did himself, a harsh and killing truth he has suppressed.
Beautiful writing. Powerful writing. But strong drink. Yet brother and sister come home together and start to find resolution.
馃げ馃徏 鈥淟ife for me ain鈥檛 been no crystal stair.鈥� Langston Hughes
September 22, 2015
What does Home mean?
How does one get there?
How can one call home to a place that alienates and drains and degrades individuals?
Morrison takes the reader on a pilgrimage to unlock the mysteries of that misleading word.
Destitute Frank Money, an allegorical surname in which Morrison exposes her refined irony to view, felt more at home in a desegregated army fighting for survival than in the racially torn Lotus, his hometown in Georgia. A year has passed since he came back home from Korea and he wanders around the States like a lost soul until he meets Lily, a soothing presence that manages to bring him home from no man's land whenever one of the frequent episodes of memory loss or emotional withdrawal tosses him into the abyss of unbidden anger. Lily, on the other hand, aspires to buy a house in a "respectable" neighborhood to be treated as an equal and Frank's family name doesn't contribute into materializing her dream.
Years of sustained abuse in the hands of her embittered step-grandmother forces Frank's little sister Cee to flee from home. In a society where gender and race ascribe supremacy, and without the protection of her devoted brother, a young black woman becomes an easy prey, and Cee will have to summon the inner strength that runs in the bloodline of past generations of her resilient sisters to build a home for herself in this barren land.
Frank and Cee, brother and sister, embark on a heedless journey that will introduce them to all kinds of people, some compassionate and generous and others manipulative and vicious, a journey that will reunite them back again in Lotus, the place they have been trying to escape from for most of their ragged lives. But coming full circle to meet their nemesis might entail a restorative catharsis and the ghosts of a traumatized childhood might serve to exorcize the sordidness of the present times. The perversity of war and dehumanization, the psychological scars that misused and discarded soldiers carry back home, the African-American civil rights movement and the blatant racial bigotry and latent classism of a segregated society in the America of the fifties serve as historical backdrop to frame the plotline.
Morrison condenses thematic patterns and recurrent imagery in this slim but intense novella, combining short and incisive sentences where every adjective acquires transcendental connotation, precisely because they are scant in the text. Gone is the jazzy prose, the lyrical repetition and the lush linguistic texture of her previous books, a fact that obliges the reader to engage in this game of deciphering and imagining and to participate actively in the story.
What remains indissoluble is 惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 use of a fragmented narrative structure and the non-linear timeline, which in this case alternates third person narrators that pivot around Frank鈥檚 particular odyssey to reinvent Ithaca in interspersed chapters where he becomes an omniscient narrator that addresses his creator in an intimate, confessional tone, always in accordance with the visual quality of Morrison's prose:
Horses rising up on their hind legs, like men.
A wooden cross with the inscription 鈥淗ere Stands A Man鈥� nailed on the trunk of a half-rotted bay tree.
A brother and a sister, hurt right down the middle, who demand to be treated like human beings with unflinching resolve because they have finally understood that Home is not a physical space, but a mental state where suffering and healing can coexist and become invincible.
How does one get there?
How can one call home to a place that alienates and drains and degrades individuals?
Morrison takes the reader on a pilgrimage to unlock the mysteries of that misleading word.
Destitute Frank Money, an allegorical surname in which Morrison exposes her refined irony to view, felt more at home in a desegregated army fighting for survival than in the racially torn Lotus, his hometown in Georgia. A year has passed since he came back home from Korea and he wanders around the States like a lost soul until he meets Lily, a soothing presence that manages to bring him home from no man's land whenever one of the frequent episodes of memory loss or emotional withdrawal tosses him into the abyss of unbidden anger. Lily, on the other hand, aspires to buy a house in a "respectable" neighborhood to be treated as an equal and Frank's family name doesn't contribute into materializing her dream.
Years of sustained abuse in the hands of her embittered step-grandmother forces Frank's little sister Cee to flee from home. In a society where gender and race ascribe supremacy, and without the protection of her devoted brother, a young black woman becomes an easy prey, and Cee will have to summon the inner strength that runs in the bloodline of past generations of her resilient sisters to build a home for herself in this barren land.
Frank and Cee, brother and sister, embark on a heedless journey that will introduce them to all kinds of people, some compassionate and generous and others manipulative and vicious, a journey that will reunite them back again in Lotus, the place they have been trying to escape from for most of their ragged lives. But coming full circle to meet their nemesis might entail a restorative catharsis and the ghosts of a traumatized childhood might serve to exorcize the sordidness of the present times. The perversity of war and dehumanization, the psychological scars that misused and discarded soldiers carry back home, the African-American civil rights movement and the blatant racial bigotry and latent classism of a segregated society in the America of the fifties serve as historical backdrop to frame the plotline.
Morrison condenses thematic patterns and recurrent imagery in this slim but intense novella, combining short and incisive sentences where every adjective acquires transcendental connotation, precisely because they are scant in the text. Gone is the jazzy prose, the lyrical repetition and the lush linguistic texture of her previous books, a fact that obliges the reader to engage in this game of deciphering and imagining and to participate actively in the story.
What remains indissoluble is 惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 use of a fragmented narrative structure and the non-linear timeline, which in this case alternates third person narrators that pivot around Frank鈥檚 particular odyssey to reinvent Ithaca in interspersed chapters where he becomes an omniscient narrator that addresses his creator in an intimate, confessional tone, always in accordance with the visual quality of Morrison's prose:
Horses rising up on their hind legs, like men.
A wooden cross with the inscription 鈥淗ere Stands A Man鈥� nailed on the trunk of a half-rotted bay tree.
A brother and a sister, hurt right down the middle, who demand to be treated like human beings with unflinching resolve because they have finally understood that Home is not a physical space, but a mental state where suffering and healing can coexist and become invincible.
September 11, 2014
鈥淟otus, Georgia, is the worst place in the world, worse than any battlefield. At least on the field there is a goal, excitement, daring, and some chance of winning along with many chances of losing. Death is a sure thing but life is just as certain. Problem is you can鈥檛 know in advance.鈥� - Toni Morrison, Home
The above are the words of an African-American Korean War vet, Frank Money. This novel is about Frank鈥檚 journey 鈥榟ome鈥� to Lotus, GA, a place he swore he would never go to again, to rescue his ailing sister, Ycidra.
This story brought to mind James McBride鈥檚 book 鈥楳iracle at St. Anna鈥檚鈥�, a novel about African-American soldiers in WW2 Italy. Like McBride, Morrison gives a voice to those people history textbooks gloss over or completely ignore. The question, the same one that is present in McBride鈥檚 book, is why African-American soldiers fight for their country, yet are treated like second class citizens:
鈥淎n integrated army is integrated misery. You all go fight, come back, they treat you like dogs. Change that. They treat dogs better.鈥�
I鈥檓 always surprised by readers who complain about the racial issues in 惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 books. You can't write a story about the black experience without bringing up race, that's just how it is. And the fact that Morrison does so with so much boldness is one of the reasons I love her writing. Her portrayals of race and racism are realistic, and the atrocities she portrays are not isolated incidents either. Morrison writes about the comradeship within the black community, she illustrates the poverty, the racism, the fear of the KKK, the police brutality... She could very well be writing about present-day America. Reading this and other Morrison books shows the multifaceted nature of racism; there are always new aspects of it shown that we haven鈥檛 considered. James McBride writes about a segregated army in Italy during WW2 which opened my eyes to the fact that black men were fighting for a country that despised them, 惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 book showed how these same soldiers would be treated when they returned to the States; Jim Crow laws, no respect, no gratitude for their sacrifices, PTSD symptoms but little help.
This is a story with several shocking details. Shocking is an understatement. You think you鈥檝e heard it all but the brutality of humans is sometimes difficult to guess. Yet, despite the visceral details, there were pages of beautiful, poetic writing:
鈥淧assing through freezing, poorly washed scenery, Frank tried to redecorate it, mind-painting giant slashes of purple and X鈥檚 of gold on hills, dripping yellow and green on barren wheat fields. Hours of trying and failing to recolor the western landscape agitated him, but by the time he stepped off the train he was calm enough.鈥�
Highly recommended!
The above are the words of an African-American Korean War vet, Frank Money. This novel is about Frank鈥檚 journey 鈥榟ome鈥� to Lotus, GA, a place he swore he would never go to again, to rescue his ailing sister, Ycidra.
This story brought to mind James McBride鈥檚 book 鈥楳iracle at St. Anna鈥檚鈥�, a novel about African-American soldiers in WW2 Italy. Like McBride, Morrison gives a voice to those people history textbooks gloss over or completely ignore. The question, the same one that is present in McBride鈥檚 book, is why African-American soldiers fight for their country, yet are treated like second class citizens:
鈥淎n integrated army is integrated misery. You all go fight, come back, they treat you like dogs. Change that. They treat dogs better.鈥�
I鈥檓 always surprised by readers who complain about the racial issues in 惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 books. You can't write a story about the black experience without bringing up race, that's just how it is. And the fact that Morrison does so with so much boldness is one of the reasons I love her writing. Her portrayals of race and racism are realistic, and the atrocities she portrays are not isolated incidents either. Morrison writes about the comradeship within the black community, she illustrates the poverty, the racism, the fear of the KKK, the police brutality... She could very well be writing about present-day America. Reading this and other Morrison books shows the multifaceted nature of racism; there are always new aspects of it shown that we haven鈥檛 considered. James McBride writes about a segregated army in Italy during WW2 which opened my eyes to the fact that black men were fighting for a country that despised them, 惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 book showed how these same soldiers would be treated when they returned to the States; Jim Crow laws, no respect, no gratitude for their sacrifices, PTSD symptoms but little help.
This is a story with several shocking details. Shocking is an understatement. You think you鈥檝e heard it all but the brutality of humans is sometimes difficult to guess. Yet, despite the visceral details, there were pages of beautiful, poetic writing:
鈥淧assing through freezing, poorly washed scenery, Frank tried to redecorate it, mind-painting giant slashes of purple and X鈥檚 of gold on hills, dripping yellow and green on barren wheat fields. Hours of trying and failing to recolor the western landscape agitated him, but by the time he stepped off the train he was calm enough.鈥�
Highly recommended!
June 2, 2021
3.5 stars
Reread
Like the two children they are at the beginning of Frank鈥檚 narration, he and his sister Cee are clueless to much around them, even as they get older, and especially in comparison to the reader. For example, the reader knows what the titles of the books that Cee encounters at her new job at a doctor鈥檚 home office mean and becomes fearful for what will happen to her, though she is happy and hopeful. The reader is spared viewing the actual horror of what does happens, as the book then shifts back to Frank. The horror is deferred and implied, later soothed by the women in the hometown that the two siblings had been happy to leave.
Cee鈥檚 process of self-actualization reminded me of Florens in . Each young woman has to learn to not follow a man, even when it's done through love. Other Morrison traits in this even shorter work than A Mercy include metafiction鈥攈er character talking directly to and challenging the author herself鈥攁nd the 'magical realism' of a mysterious zoot-suited man who appears a few times. The main difference from Morrison's usual work is the easier prose, though that's deceptive in comparison to its meanings and themes.
I am on my way to fulfilling the vow of the last paragraph of my earlier review of this book (see below) -- only one more Morrison for my rereading project and I'm feeling the lack already, though I look forward to rereading again, in particular, probably many years down the road.
Previous review:
I would never dare to criticize Toni Morrison; I love the way she writes. I love the way she writes in this novella too, but anything I'd say about this book would be subject to how much more strongly I felt about her other novels. (It's the way I tend to rate any author of whom I've read more than one work.) And I admit that if this book were written by any other writer (or if it were the first thing I'd read by her), I most likely would've given it a solid 4 stars.
I especially liked the first 3/4 of it, perhaps the ending seemed too rushed to me. And if there is anyone who thinks Morrison can't write in a more conventional, accessible style, read this one, because here she does; and the language is clear, crisp, and beautiful.
One day, perhaps several years from now, I plan on rereading, in order, all her novels (I've only reread her ) and I will reread this one. Anything she writes is worth reading more than once.
Reread
Like the two children they are at the beginning of Frank鈥檚 narration, he and his sister Cee are clueless to much around them, even as they get older, and especially in comparison to the reader. For example, the reader knows what the titles of the books that Cee encounters at her new job at a doctor鈥檚 home office mean and becomes fearful for what will happen to her, though she is happy and hopeful. The reader is spared viewing the actual horror of what does happens, as the book then shifts back to Frank. The horror is deferred and implied, later soothed by the women in the hometown that the two siblings had been happy to leave.
Cee鈥檚 process of self-actualization reminded me of Florens in . Each young woman has to learn to not follow a man, even when it's done through love. Other Morrison traits in this even shorter work than A Mercy include metafiction鈥攈er character talking directly to and challenging the author herself鈥攁nd the 'magical realism' of a mysterious zoot-suited man who appears a few times. The main difference from Morrison's usual work is the easier prose, though that's deceptive in comparison to its meanings and themes.
I am on my way to fulfilling the vow of the last paragraph of my earlier review of this book (see below) -- only one more Morrison for my rereading project and I'm feeling the lack already, though I look forward to rereading again, in particular, probably many years down the road.
Previous review:
I would never dare to criticize Toni Morrison; I love the way she writes. I love the way she writes in this novella too, but anything I'd say about this book would be subject to how much more strongly I felt about her other novels. (It's the way I tend to rate any author of whom I've read more than one work.) And I admit that if this book were written by any other writer (or if it were the first thing I'd read by her), I most likely would've given it a solid 4 stars.
I especially liked the first 3/4 of it, perhaps the ending seemed too rushed to me. And if there is anyone who thinks Morrison can't write in a more conventional, accessible style, read this one, because here she does; and the language is clear, crisp, and beautiful.
One day, perhaps several years from now, I plan on rereading, in order, all her novels (I've only reread her ) and I will reread this one. Anything she writes is worth reading more than once.
September 26, 2016
賲蹖 賮賴賲蹖 賲賳馗賵乇賲 趩蹖賴責 亘賴 禺賵丿鬲 賳诏丕賴 讴賳. 丌夭丕丿蹖. 賴蹖趩 讴爻 賵 賴蹖趩 趩蹖夭 賳噩丕鬲鬲 賳賲蹖 丿賴 睾蹖乇 禺賵丿鬲. 讴丕乇 禺賵丿鬲 乇賵 亘讴賳. 鬲賵 賴賲 噩賵賵賳蹖 賵 賴賲 夭賳. 賴乇 丿賵卮賵賳 賲丨丿賵丿蹖鬲 賴丕蹖 噩丿蹖 丿丕乇賳. 丕賲丕 鬲賵 丌丿賲 賴賲 賴爻鬲蹖 .賳匕丕乇 賱賳賵乇 蹖丕 蹖賴 倬爻乇 亘蹖 丕賴賲蹖鬲 蹖丕 蹖賴 丿讴鬲乇 倬賱蹖丿 鬲氐賲蹖賲 亘诏蹖乇賴 鬲賵 讴蹖 亘丕卮蹖. 丕蹖賳 亘乇丿诏蹖賴. 丕賵賳 丕丿賲 丕夭丕丿蹖 讴賴 丿丕乇賲 乇丕噩毓 亘卮 丨乇賮 賲蹖 夭賳賲 噩丕蹖蹖 丿乇賵賳 鬲賵卅賴. 倬蹖丿丕卮 讴賳 賵 亘匕丕乇 蹖賴 讴丕乇 禺賵亘 鬲賵 丕蹖賳 丿賳蹖丕 丕賳噩丕賲 亘丿賴
毓丕賱蹖
賲孬賱 賴賲蹖卮賴
鬲賵賳蹖 賲賵乇蹖爻賵賳 毓丕賱蹖 亘賵丿
鬲乇噩賲賴 蹖 讴鬲丕亘 賴賲 禺賵亘 賵 乇賵賵賳 亘賵丿
丿丕乇賲 毓丕卮賯 鬲賵賳蹖 賲賵乇蹖爻賵賳 賲蹖卮賲. 丕蹖賳 讴賴 趩胤賵乇 丕夭 賴賲賵賳 丕賵賱 丕賵賳 丕鬲賮丕賯 亘夭乇诏賴 乇賵 鬲毓乇蹖賮 賲蹖 讴賳賴 . 丕蹖賳 讴賴 趩胤賵乇 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 乇賵 賮氐賱 亘賳丿蹖 賲蹖 讴賳賴. 丌乇賵賲 丌乇賵賲 卮禺氐蹖鬲 賴丕 乇賵賲毓乇賮蹖 賲蹖 讴賳賴 賵 鬲丕 丌禺乇蹖賳 氐賮丨賴 鬲賵 乇賵 丿賳亘丕賱 禺賵丿卮 賲蹖 讴卮賵賳賴 鬲丕 倬丕夭賱 丕賵賳 丕鬲賮丕賯 亘夭乇诏賴 讴丕賲賱 卮賴. 乇賵丕蹖鬲 賲賵乇蹖爻賵賳 賴蹖趩 賵賯鬲 賳賴 禺爻鬲賴 賲 賲蹖 讴賳賴 貙 賳賴 丨賵氐賱賴 賲賵 爻乇 賲蹖 亘乇賴 賵 賳賴 賱丨馗賴 丕蹖 丕夭 噩匕丕亘蹖鬲卮 亘乇丕賲 讴賲 賲蹖卮賴
毓丕賱蹖
賲孬賱 賴賲蹖卮賴
鬲賵賳蹖 賲賵乇蹖爻賵賳 毓丕賱蹖 亘賵丿
鬲乇噩賲賴 蹖 讴鬲丕亘 賴賲 禺賵亘 賵 乇賵賵賳 亘賵丿
丿丕乇賲 毓丕卮賯 鬲賵賳蹖 賲賵乇蹖爻賵賳 賲蹖卮賲. 丕蹖賳 讴賴 趩胤賵乇 丕夭 賴賲賵賳 丕賵賱 丕賵賳 丕鬲賮丕賯 亘夭乇诏賴 乇賵 鬲毓乇蹖賮 賲蹖 讴賳賴 . 丕蹖賳 讴賴 趩胤賵乇 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 乇賵 賮氐賱 亘賳丿蹖 賲蹖 讴賳賴. 丌乇賵賲 丌乇賵賲 卮禺氐蹖鬲 賴丕 乇賵賲毓乇賮蹖 賲蹖 讴賳賴 賵 鬲丕 丌禺乇蹖賳 氐賮丨賴 鬲賵 乇賵 丿賳亘丕賱 禺賵丿卮 賲蹖 讴卮賵賳賴 鬲丕 倬丕夭賱 丕賵賳 丕鬲賮丕賯 亘夭乇诏賴 讴丕賲賱 卮賴. 乇賵丕蹖鬲 賲賵乇蹖爻賵賳 賴蹖趩 賵賯鬲 賳賴 禺爻鬲賴 賲 賲蹖 讴賳賴 貙 賳賴 丨賵氐賱賴 賲賵 爻乇 賲蹖 亘乇賴 賵 賳賴 賱丨馗賴 丕蹖 丕夭 噩匕丕亘蹖鬲卮 亘乇丕賲 讴賲 賲蹖卮賴
December 23, 2016
Toni Morrison proves with this 2012 novel that she still has it. This one may not be as "beloved" as some of her earlier writing but it is still undeniably unique, undeniably Toni Morrison. This short novel tells the story of a returning Korean War veteran, an African-American from Georgia, who realizes that bigotry and racial prejudice still exists, even for those who served our country in war. Sadly, that is still true today, and not just for African-Americans, but for many other religious and ethnic minority's as well.
February 20, 2015
I wanted to dislike this book for its dismal "mood." Hesitant, I wondered whether to continue reading this now, or abandon it for later, when I could bear the thought of stepping back into time with the main character as he visited a traumatic past. I don't quite know how to welcome hopelessness as a thematic undertone and overtone, so this week especially, I didn't know whether I could suffer with Frank as he faced the world with an outlook of disdain and pure agony, remembering when he had no one, no money, no pride; as he remembered the Korean War, when he had enlisted because this was his only way out of his disheartening situation. There, surrounded by the only friends he had, who like him, had escaped their town to find some meaning as soldiers, life would again revisit his demise.
PTSD. That oh-so-misunderstood acronym. Yet Toni Morrison--in a way only Toni Morrision can--has Frank cooly dramatize his soldier-acquired ailment so that even if you don't get it, you get him:
No judgments. Only lyrical candidness.
Like the men and women of , Morrison's characters of Lotus, Georgia are down-trodden black folks who are immigrants in their own home. Kicked off their land in Texas and forced to cross state lines. Or else. Frank and his little sister, Ycidra, find themselves living in a small house with a cruel step-grandmother. While their parents toiled the fields daily, Frank took care of his baby sister. Frank and Cee: inseparable. Until war, alcohol, and death drew him further away from her. Suddenly, he was no longer there when she really needed him.
How much distress and disappointment can a person take?
I hated feeling their pain. Hated the gloom. Grew disappointed at the lack of happiness. Despite this (and most likely because of this), I grew to love this succinct display of detached pain, a work so unlike Morrison's ornate paragraphs and dialogue. This is a novella with thematic appeal. Sure, I will remember the expressionless Cee and those eyes: "flat, waiting, always waiting. Not patient, not hopeless, but suspended." Yes, I will remember the sometimes-humorous Frank:"Women are eager to talk to me when they hear my last name. Money? They snigger and ask the same questions鈥as I a gambler or thief or some other kind of crook they should watch out for? When I tell them my nickname, what folks back home call me, Smart Money, they scream with laughter and say: Ain't no such thing as dumb money, just dumb folks." But what I will really remember is the incandescent pain and despair. I will remember that once I looked closely, I found that hope transcended hopelessness through Cee and that trauma was revived through memory. Could it have been longer? Sure. But I will take a novella from Toni Morrison any day.
PTSD. That oh-so-misunderstood acronym. Yet Toni Morrison--in a way only Toni Morrision can--has Frank cooly dramatize his soldier-acquired ailment so that even if you don't get it, you get him:
When he was alone and sober, whatever the surroundings, he saw a boy pushing his entrails back in, holding them in his palms like a fortune-teller's globe shattering with bad news; or he heard a boy with only the bottom half of his face intact, the lips calling mama. And he was stepping over them, around them, to stay alive, to keep his own face from dissolving, his own colorful guts under that oh-so-thin sheet of flesh.
No judgments. Only lyrical candidness.
Like the men and women of , Morrison's characters of Lotus, Georgia are down-trodden black folks who are immigrants in their own home. Kicked off their land in Texas and forced to cross state lines. Or else. Frank and his little sister, Ycidra, find themselves living in a small house with a cruel step-grandmother. While their parents toiled the fields daily, Frank took care of his baby sister. Frank and Cee: inseparable. Until war, alcohol, and death drew him further away from her. Suddenly, he was no longer there when she really needed him.
How much distress and disappointment can a person take?
I hated feeling their pain. Hated the gloom. Grew disappointed at the lack of happiness. Despite this (and most likely because of this), I grew to love this succinct display of detached pain, a work so unlike Morrison's ornate paragraphs and dialogue. This is a novella with thematic appeal. Sure, I will remember the expressionless Cee and those eyes: "flat, waiting, always waiting. Not patient, not hopeless, but suspended." Yes, I will remember the sometimes-humorous Frank:"Women are eager to talk to me when they hear my last name. Money? They snigger and ask the same questions鈥as I a gambler or thief or some other kind of crook they should watch out for? When I tell them my nickname, what folks back home call me, Smart Money, they scream with laughter and say: Ain't no such thing as dumb money, just dumb folks." But what I will really remember is the incandescent pain and despair. I will remember that once I looked closely, I found that hope transcended hopelessness through Cee and that trauma was revived through memory. Could it have been longer? Sure. But I will take a novella from Toni Morrison any day.
鈥emories, powerful as they were, did not crush him anymore or throw him into paralyzing despair.
August 5, 2024
#JulhoNobel
Dos livros que li de Toni Morrison, 鈥淎 Nossa Casa 脡 Onde Est谩 o Cora莽茫o鈥� 茅, sem d煤vida, o mais acess铆vel e o mais linear, mas nem por isso menos tenso.
Frank, regressa da guerra da Coreia a sofrer de stress p贸s-traum谩tico e sem os seus dois grandes amigos de inf芒ncia鈥�
Um trecho da B铆blia funciona em qualquer situa莽茫o e em qualquer lugar 鈥� exceto na frente de combate. 鈥淛esus. Jesus!鈥� Foi o que disse o Mike. E o Stuff gritara-o tamb茅m. 鈥淛esus, Deus Todo-Poderoso, estou lixado, Frank, Jesus, ajuda-me.鈥�
鈥elo que n茫o tem coragem de regressar 脿 sua terra miser谩vel na Ge贸rgia.
L贸tus, Ge贸rgia, 茅 o pior lugar do mundo, pior do que qualquer campo de batalha. (鈥�) Nada para fazer exceto trabalhos embrutecedores em campos que n茫o possu铆amos, que n茫o pod铆amos possuir (鈥�). A minha fam铆lia sentia-se satisfeita ou simplesmente desalentada vivendo assim. Eu compreendo. Depois de terem sido expulsos de uma cidade, qualquer outra que oferecesse seguran莽a e a paz de uma noite de sono ininterrupto sem uma espingarda encostada 脿 cara ao despertar seria mais do que suficiente.
脡, pois, a 茅poca da segrega莽茫o racial em que Frank, depois de combater ao lado dos brancos, tem de atravessar discretamente os Estados Unidos at茅 ao Sul, onde a sua irm茫 mais nova, Cee, a pessoa mais importante da sua vida, corre perigo.
Ela foi uma sombra a maior parte da minha vida, uma presen莽a marcando a sua pr贸pria aus锚ncia, ou talvez a minha. Quem sou eu sem ela, aquela rapariga malnutrida de olhos tristes que esperavam? (鈥�) A carta dizia: 鈥淓la vai morrer.鈥�
脡 uma viagem que avan莽a no terreno e recua no tempo, permitindo-nos perceber a extens茫o do trauma de Frank e aquilo de que verdadeiramente se envergonha, at茅 chegar ao lar que n茫o 茅 doce para nenhum dos irm茫os, mas onde existe o verdadeiro sentido de comunidade.
A c贸lera era-lhe interdita - tinha sido t茫o est煤pida, t茫o ansiosa por agradar. Como de costume, atirava as culpas da sua idiotice 脿 falta de escolaridade, mas essa desculpa desmoronou-se no instante em que pensou nas h谩beis mulheres que a haviam tratado e curado. Algumas precisavam que lhes lessem os vers铆culos da B铆blia, porque n茫o sabiam decifrar elas mesmas os carateres impressos, por isso agu莽aram os talentos t铆picos das pessoas iletradas: mem贸ria perfeita, esp铆rito fotogr谩fico, sentidos apurados de olfato e vis茫o. (鈥�) Cee n茫o conhecia mulheres fracas nem idiotas.
Dos livros que li de Toni Morrison, 鈥淎 Nossa Casa 脡 Onde Est谩 o Cora莽茫o鈥� 茅, sem d煤vida, o mais acess铆vel e o mais linear, mas nem por isso menos tenso.
Frank, regressa da guerra da Coreia a sofrer de stress p贸s-traum谩tico e sem os seus dois grandes amigos de inf芒ncia鈥�
Um trecho da B铆blia funciona em qualquer situa莽茫o e em qualquer lugar 鈥� exceto na frente de combate. 鈥淛esus. Jesus!鈥� Foi o que disse o Mike. E o Stuff gritara-o tamb茅m. 鈥淛esus, Deus Todo-Poderoso, estou lixado, Frank, Jesus, ajuda-me.鈥�
鈥elo que n茫o tem coragem de regressar 脿 sua terra miser谩vel na Ge贸rgia.
L贸tus, Ge贸rgia, 茅 o pior lugar do mundo, pior do que qualquer campo de batalha. (鈥�) Nada para fazer exceto trabalhos embrutecedores em campos que n茫o possu铆amos, que n茫o pod铆amos possuir (鈥�). A minha fam铆lia sentia-se satisfeita ou simplesmente desalentada vivendo assim. Eu compreendo. Depois de terem sido expulsos de uma cidade, qualquer outra que oferecesse seguran莽a e a paz de uma noite de sono ininterrupto sem uma espingarda encostada 脿 cara ao despertar seria mais do que suficiente.
脡, pois, a 茅poca da segrega莽茫o racial em que Frank, depois de combater ao lado dos brancos, tem de atravessar discretamente os Estados Unidos at茅 ao Sul, onde a sua irm茫 mais nova, Cee, a pessoa mais importante da sua vida, corre perigo.
Ela foi uma sombra a maior parte da minha vida, uma presen莽a marcando a sua pr贸pria aus锚ncia, ou talvez a minha. Quem sou eu sem ela, aquela rapariga malnutrida de olhos tristes que esperavam? (鈥�) A carta dizia: 鈥淓la vai morrer.鈥�
脡 uma viagem que avan莽a no terreno e recua no tempo, permitindo-nos perceber a extens茫o do trauma de Frank e aquilo de que verdadeiramente se envergonha, at茅 chegar ao lar que n茫o 茅 doce para nenhum dos irm茫os, mas onde existe o verdadeiro sentido de comunidade.
A c贸lera era-lhe interdita - tinha sido t茫o est煤pida, t茫o ansiosa por agradar. Como de costume, atirava as culpas da sua idiotice 脿 falta de escolaridade, mas essa desculpa desmoronou-se no instante em que pensou nas h谩beis mulheres que a haviam tratado e curado. Algumas precisavam que lhes lessem os vers铆culos da B铆blia, porque n茫o sabiam decifrar elas mesmas os carateres impressos, por isso agu莽aram os talentos t铆picos das pessoas iletradas: mem贸ria perfeita, esp铆rito fotogr谩fico, sentidos apurados de olfato e vis茫o. (鈥�) Cee n茫o conhecia mulheres fracas nem idiotas.
December 11, 2012
Toni 惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 new novel, Home, begins with two children witnessing a man being buried 鈥� presumably alive. It鈥檚 a strong opening.
鈥榃e could not see the faces of the men doing the burying, only their trousers; but we saw the edge of a spade drive the jerking foot down to join the rest of itself.鈥�
But it鈥檚 also a testament to this unsubtle book鈥檚 endless litany of atrocities that by the end, I鈥檇 almost totally forgotten about the man being buried alive. Think about that for a moment: the book is a mere 145 pages long and I almost totally forgot that it began with a man being buried alive.
Oh yeah, I thought, that also happened.
That was before the war-torn protagonist, Frank Money, admits to having shot a starving Korean girl in the face; before the man being buried is revealed to have been forced to battle his son to the death in a sort of human dogfight; before an entire Texas town of African Americans was made to relocate under pain of death 鈥� a lone hold-out has his eyes carved out 鈥� and please, please don鈥檛 even get me started on the mad 鈥榟eavyweight Confederate鈥� eugenics doctor who nearly kills a character by, one assumes, a forced sexual sterilization experiment gone wrong. That was before all the racially motivated beatings and shootings, the splattery Korean War vignettes, the gang muggings and wrestling prostitutes. Someone being buried alive? That鈥檚 nothing.
Again, Home is 145 pages long.
But the Nobel laureate's tenth novel can鈥檛 seem to help itself. If something bad can happen, it does, and then it does again, and again, until it starts to feel like one of those Hollywood blockbusters where every action sequence becomes bigger, crazier, louder, until the final city-destroying finale. There鈥檚 little time for reflection: not when Morrison wants to hit you over the head with history. You thought that was bad? Well, how about this. Boom. History repeating itself first as tragedy, then as farce, then as something so mind-numbing that you simply want it to end: and I鈥檓 not sure if it would have been a relief or totally of a piece if Godzilla himself had appeared at the end of the novel to grind all of 惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 woebegone characters into the Georgian dust.
Basically, Home is a pulply morality tale cruising along on a default setting of literary pretension. It concerns Frank Money, a disturbed six-foot-three-inch African American Korean War veteran and his younger sister, Ycodra, better known as Cee, who Frank has always protected: 鈥楨ven before she could walk he鈥檇 taken care of her. The first word she spoke was 鈥楩wank鈥欌€� Back from the war and prone to alcoholic derangements of a violent and too metaphorically apt nature (yes, he starts to see things in black and white before they happen), Frank embarks on a 1950s Odyssey from the west coast back home to Lotus, Georgia 鈥榯he worst place in the world, worse than any battlefield鈥�. Cee, he has been told, is dying.
From there we鈥檙e parceled out insights into Frank鈥檚 present and past, the present and past of his current lover, Lily, his sister, Cee, and quite a few secondary characters. It feigns towards gothic horror, war horror and social realism horror, never really finding a home in any of these genres. You can see the bones of a powerful intergenerational novel or two poking out all over the place 鈥� but what we have is far too short, too sketchy.
The book isn鈥檛 so much inhabited by characters as case studies. Each and every one feels like an excuse for the author to make a point, to explore this or that historical tragedy, to make sure we stand witness. Each character checks off another instance of pre-Civil Rights era racism, be it the insidious bureaucratic 鈥榬estrictions鈥� preventing African Americans from making their homes in certain neighborhoods, to the full scale murder of for pleasure or sport or ugly American hate. There鈥檚 just too much here and, frankly, you need more than 145 pages to create characters which can rise above the pain and torment Morrison seems to almost sadistically put them through here. It serves nobody to toss off a lurid, baffling scene at the end of a novel concerning a human dog fight, where a father and son are forced to battle each other to the death with knives while a crowd of men cheer. Especially coming not a few pages after the aforementioned confession that Frank Money murdered a small girl in Korea 鈥� it feels exploitive, and shockingly manipulative. Morrison might have earned the right to go there with her past fiction, but not within the confines of this novel. And I haven鈥檛 even mentioned the appearance of the zoot suited ghost, which must mean something important because: well, how many ghosts wear zoot suits?
Add to this the fact that Morrison has her third-person narrative chopped up by Frank Money telling bits of his story directly to us and her, in first-person, at one point going so far as to question the book itself:
"Earlier you wrote about how sure I was that the beat-up man on the train to Chicago would turn around when they got home and whip the wife who tried to help him. Not true. I didn鈥檛 think any such thing. What I thought was that he was proud of her but didn鈥檛 want to show how proud he was to the other men on the train. I don鈥檛 think you know much about love.
Or me."
When I read that section I felt like cheering, and hoped that maybe 惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 fiction was finally standing up for itself. Go, Frank Money, go! Maybe the characters were trying to peak through and be heard among the bloody din of 惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 agenda.
Yes, and I know this sounds disrespectful.
Toni Morrison is 鈥� well, she鈥檚 Toni Morrison. She is an American institution; not only a remarkable prose poet and winner of numerous awards, but wielder of a genuine literary conscience, especially in a time when so many American novelists have long since retreated into the safety of irony and approximation. She not only has something to say, but, more importantly, she has people who will listen. She鈥檚 not only written some great books but she鈥檚 written a few nearly indisputable classics of world literature, like Beloved and Song of Solomon.
But Home is not a wise book. At its heart, it鈥檚 more a deceptively angry one. 鈥楧eceptive鈥� because of 惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 poetics, which can be nimble, funny and evocative but, more often than not here, are overdrawn. Light, for example, never simply shines in this novel. Try to read this without your inner editor scowling: 鈥楳aniac moonlight doing the work of absent stars matched his desperate frenzy, lighting his hunched shoulders and footprints left in the snow.鈥� Exactly. So 惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 anger comes through in the actions and events rather than in the way they鈥檙e described. She keeps her voice out of the fray and lets the anger come out in her choice of putting everyone, basically, through hell.
Which isn鈥檛 to say the anger isn鈥檛 justified. These are all things that did happen. These are things that, in many ways, still do happen. 鈥榊ou could be inside, living in your own house for years, and still, men with or without badges but always with guns could force you, your family, your neighbors to pack up and move 鈥� with or without shoes.鈥� The novel, in a heavy-handed way, explores the issues of just what kind of home America was, and is, for African Americans; and how horrible it is to read about an innocent African American child being shot in 1950s Chicago at the same time as the US media, some 60 years later, is aflame over the Trayvon Martin case.
There are flashes of hard-won humor and beauty here as well. For example, Prince, Cee鈥檚 first love and ill-advised husband, is described as loving himself 鈥榮o deeply, so completely, it was impossible to doubt his convictions鈥�. Or this pitch-perfect dialog between Cee and the wife of Dr. Scott, who is interviewing her for a job:
鈥淎ny children?鈥�
鈥淣o, ma鈥檃m.鈥�
鈥淢补谤谤颈别诲?鈥�
鈥淣o, ma鈥檃m.鈥�
鈥淲hat church affiliation? Any?鈥�
鈥淭here鈥檚 God鈥檚 Congregation in Lotus but, I don鈥檛 鈥︹€�
鈥淭hey jump around?鈥�
鈥淢补鈥檃尘?鈥�
And Morrison can still control her voice like an instrument, and you鈥檙e occasionally reminded that you鈥檙e dealing with the author of Beloved, a writer of a fierce and unique American rhythm:
"It was so bright, brighter than he remembered. The sun, having sucked away the blue from the sky, loitered there in the white heaven, menacing Lotus, torturing its landscape, but failing, failing, constantly failing to silence it: children still laughed, ran, shouted their games; women sang in their backyards while pinning wet sheets on clotheslines; occasionally a soprano was joined by a neighboring alto or a tenor just passing by. 鈥楾ake me to the water. Take me to the water. Take me to the water. To be baptized.鈥�"
Unfortunately, these moments in Home are few and far between, and what you鈥檙e left with is the smallest, shortest big book I think that I鈥檝e ever read. Too many terrible events and too many characters deprived the chance to settle down and breathe without constantly having to suffer their creator鈥檚 nefarious intentions. You don鈥檛 know much about me, Frank Money insists. And though you know Morrison wrote that, you get the sense that Money was on to something.
鈥榃e could not see the faces of the men doing the burying, only their trousers; but we saw the edge of a spade drive the jerking foot down to join the rest of itself.鈥�
But it鈥檚 also a testament to this unsubtle book鈥檚 endless litany of atrocities that by the end, I鈥檇 almost totally forgotten about the man being buried alive. Think about that for a moment: the book is a mere 145 pages long and I almost totally forgot that it began with a man being buried alive.
Oh yeah, I thought, that also happened.
That was before the war-torn protagonist, Frank Money, admits to having shot a starving Korean girl in the face; before the man being buried is revealed to have been forced to battle his son to the death in a sort of human dogfight; before an entire Texas town of African Americans was made to relocate under pain of death 鈥� a lone hold-out has his eyes carved out 鈥� and please, please don鈥檛 even get me started on the mad 鈥榟eavyweight Confederate鈥� eugenics doctor who nearly kills a character by, one assumes, a forced sexual sterilization experiment gone wrong. That was before all the racially motivated beatings and shootings, the splattery Korean War vignettes, the gang muggings and wrestling prostitutes. Someone being buried alive? That鈥檚 nothing.
Again, Home is 145 pages long.
But the Nobel laureate's tenth novel can鈥檛 seem to help itself. If something bad can happen, it does, and then it does again, and again, until it starts to feel like one of those Hollywood blockbusters where every action sequence becomes bigger, crazier, louder, until the final city-destroying finale. There鈥檚 little time for reflection: not when Morrison wants to hit you over the head with history. You thought that was bad? Well, how about this. Boom. History repeating itself first as tragedy, then as farce, then as something so mind-numbing that you simply want it to end: and I鈥檓 not sure if it would have been a relief or totally of a piece if Godzilla himself had appeared at the end of the novel to grind all of 惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 woebegone characters into the Georgian dust.
Basically, Home is a pulply morality tale cruising along on a default setting of literary pretension. It concerns Frank Money, a disturbed six-foot-three-inch African American Korean War veteran and his younger sister, Ycodra, better known as Cee, who Frank has always protected: 鈥楨ven before she could walk he鈥檇 taken care of her. The first word she spoke was 鈥楩wank鈥欌€� Back from the war and prone to alcoholic derangements of a violent and too metaphorically apt nature (yes, he starts to see things in black and white before they happen), Frank embarks on a 1950s Odyssey from the west coast back home to Lotus, Georgia 鈥榯he worst place in the world, worse than any battlefield鈥�. Cee, he has been told, is dying.
From there we鈥檙e parceled out insights into Frank鈥檚 present and past, the present and past of his current lover, Lily, his sister, Cee, and quite a few secondary characters. It feigns towards gothic horror, war horror and social realism horror, never really finding a home in any of these genres. You can see the bones of a powerful intergenerational novel or two poking out all over the place 鈥� but what we have is far too short, too sketchy.
The book isn鈥檛 so much inhabited by characters as case studies. Each and every one feels like an excuse for the author to make a point, to explore this or that historical tragedy, to make sure we stand witness. Each character checks off another instance of pre-Civil Rights era racism, be it the insidious bureaucratic 鈥榬estrictions鈥� preventing African Americans from making their homes in certain neighborhoods, to the full scale murder of for pleasure or sport or ugly American hate. There鈥檚 just too much here and, frankly, you need more than 145 pages to create characters which can rise above the pain and torment Morrison seems to almost sadistically put them through here. It serves nobody to toss off a lurid, baffling scene at the end of a novel concerning a human dog fight, where a father and son are forced to battle each other to the death with knives while a crowd of men cheer. Especially coming not a few pages after the aforementioned confession that Frank Money murdered a small girl in Korea 鈥� it feels exploitive, and shockingly manipulative. Morrison might have earned the right to go there with her past fiction, but not within the confines of this novel. And I haven鈥檛 even mentioned the appearance of the zoot suited ghost, which must mean something important because: well, how many ghosts wear zoot suits?
Add to this the fact that Morrison has her third-person narrative chopped up by Frank Money telling bits of his story directly to us and her, in first-person, at one point going so far as to question the book itself:
"Earlier you wrote about how sure I was that the beat-up man on the train to Chicago would turn around when they got home and whip the wife who tried to help him. Not true. I didn鈥檛 think any such thing. What I thought was that he was proud of her but didn鈥檛 want to show how proud he was to the other men on the train. I don鈥檛 think you know much about love.
Or me."
When I read that section I felt like cheering, and hoped that maybe 惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 fiction was finally standing up for itself. Go, Frank Money, go! Maybe the characters were trying to peak through and be heard among the bloody din of 惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 agenda.
Yes, and I know this sounds disrespectful.
Toni Morrison is 鈥� well, she鈥檚 Toni Morrison. She is an American institution; not only a remarkable prose poet and winner of numerous awards, but wielder of a genuine literary conscience, especially in a time when so many American novelists have long since retreated into the safety of irony and approximation. She not only has something to say, but, more importantly, she has people who will listen. She鈥檚 not only written some great books but she鈥檚 written a few nearly indisputable classics of world literature, like Beloved and Song of Solomon.
But Home is not a wise book. At its heart, it鈥檚 more a deceptively angry one. 鈥楧eceptive鈥� because of 惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 poetics, which can be nimble, funny and evocative but, more often than not here, are overdrawn. Light, for example, never simply shines in this novel. Try to read this without your inner editor scowling: 鈥楳aniac moonlight doing the work of absent stars matched his desperate frenzy, lighting his hunched shoulders and footprints left in the snow.鈥� Exactly. So 惭辞谤谤颈蝉辞苍鈥檚 anger comes through in the actions and events rather than in the way they鈥檙e described. She keeps her voice out of the fray and lets the anger come out in her choice of putting everyone, basically, through hell.
Which isn鈥檛 to say the anger isn鈥檛 justified. These are all things that did happen. These are things that, in many ways, still do happen. 鈥榊ou could be inside, living in your own house for years, and still, men with or without badges but always with guns could force you, your family, your neighbors to pack up and move 鈥� with or without shoes.鈥� The novel, in a heavy-handed way, explores the issues of just what kind of home America was, and is, for African Americans; and how horrible it is to read about an innocent African American child being shot in 1950s Chicago at the same time as the US media, some 60 years later, is aflame over the Trayvon Martin case.
There are flashes of hard-won humor and beauty here as well. For example, Prince, Cee鈥檚 first love and ill-advised husband, is described as loving himself 鈥榮o deeply, so completely, it was impossible to doubt his convictions鈥�. Or this pitch-perfect dialog between Cee and the wife of Dr. Scott, who is interviewing her for a job:
鈥淎ny children?鈥�
鈥淣o, ma鈥檃m.鈥�
鈥淢补谤谤颈别诲?鈥�
鈥淣o, ma鈥檃m.鈥�
鈥淲hat church affiliation? Any?鈥�
鈥淭here鈥檚 God鈥檚 Congregation in Lotus but, I don鈥檛 鈥︹€�
鈥淭hey jump around?鈥�
鈥淢补鈥檃尘?鈥�
And Morrison can still control her voice like an instrument, and you鈥檙e occasionally reminded that you鈥檙e dealing with the author of Beloved, a writer of a fierce and unique American rhythm:
"It was so bright, brighter than he remembered. The sun, having sucked away the blue from the sky, loitered there in the white heaven, menacing Lotus, torturing its landscape, but failing, failing, constantly failing to silence it: children still laughed, ran, shouted their games; women sang in their backyards while pinning wet sheets on clotheslines; occasionally a soprano was joined by a neighboring alto or a tenor just passing by. 鈥楾ake me to the water. Take me to the water. Take me to the water. To be baptized.鈥�"
Unfortunately, these moments in Home are few and far between, and what you鈥檙e left with is the smallest, shortest big book I think that I鈥檝e ever read. Too many terrible events and too many characters deprived the chance to settle down and breathe without constantly having to suffer their creator鈥檚 nefarious intentions. You don鈥檛 know much about me, Frank Money insists. And though you know Morrison wrote that, you get the sense that Money was on to something.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
December 19, 2020
3.5
丕蹖賳 鬲賳賴丕 蹖讴蹖 丕夭 賲鬲毓丿丿 氐丨賳賴鈥屬囏й屰� 賴爻鬲卮 讴賴 鬲賵賳蹖 賲賵乇蹖爻賵賳 丿乇 讴鬲丕亘卮 丕賵賳 乇賵 丌賳趩賳丕賳 禺賱賯 讴乇丿賴 讴賴 卮賲丕 鬲丕 賲丿鬲鈥屬囏� 賯丕丿乇 亘賴 賮乇丕賲賵卮 讴乇丿賳卮 賳蹖爻鬲蹖丿. "禺丕賳赖"貙 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 爻乇亘丕夭 丌賲乇蹖讴丕蹖蹖 爻蹖丕賴鈥屬举堌池� 亘賴 賳丕賲 賮乇丕賳讴 賴爻鬲卮 讴賴 亘乇丕蹖 賮乇丕乇 丕夭 賲卮讴賱丕鬲貙 亘乇丕蹖 丕毓夭丕賲 亘賴 噩賳诏 賳丕賲鈥屬嗁堐屫驰� 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁� 賵 亘賴 噩賳诏 讴購乇賴 賲蹖鈥屫辟� 鬲丕 鬲賻鬲賻賲賴 丕賵賳 趩蹖夭蹖 讴賴 丕夭卮 亘丕賯蹖 賲賵賳丿賴 賴賲 亘丕 丿蹖丿賳 噩賳诏 丕夭 賴賲 賲鬲賱丕卮蹖 亘卮賴 賵 賳賴丕蹖鬲丕 丿乇 亘禺卮 乇賵丕賳蹖 亘爻鬲乇蹖 亘卮賴. 丕賲丕 賳丕诏賴丕賳 賳丕賲賴鈥屫й� 賳丕卮賳丕爻 亘乇丕卮 賲蹖鈥屫必迟� 讴賴 禺賵丕賴乇卮 (讴賴 丿乇 丿賳蹖丕 丕夭 賴乇 趩蹖夭蹖 亘乇丕卮 丕乇夭卮賲賳丿鬲乇賴) 丿乇 賵囟毓蹖鬲 賵禺蹖賲蹖賴 賵 賴乇 丌賳 賲賲讴賳賴 亘賲蹖乇賴.
丿丕爻鬲丕賳 亘丕 鬲睾蹖蹖乇 賲讴乇乇 乇丕賵蹖貙 亘賴 爻乇毓鬲 賲丕 乇賵 亘丕 丿賳蹖丕蹖 賮乇丕賳讴 賵 禺賵丕賴乇卮貙 爻蹖貙 丌卮賳丕 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁� 鬲丕 賳賴丕蹖鬲丕 賲孬賱 噩賵蹖亘丕乇賴丕蹖蹖 讴賴 賳賴丕蹖鬲丕 亘賴 賴賲 亘乇爻賳貙 賮乇丕賳讴 禺賵丕賴乇卮 乇賵 倬蹖丿丕 讴賳賴 賵 丕丿丕賲賴 賲丕噩乇丕. 亘丕 丕蹖賳丨丕賱 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 讴鬲丕亘 禺蹖賱蹖 賯賵蹖 賳蹖爻鬲 賵 亘蹖卮鬲乇 亘爻鬲乇蹖 亘乇丕蹖 胤乇丨 丿睾丿睾賴鈥屬囏й屰� 丕夭 噩賲賱賴 賲賯丕亘賱賴 亘丕 賳跇丕丿倬乇爻鬲蹖貙 毓賯丕蹖丿 囟丿 噩賳诏 賵 丕賱亘鬲賴 倬乇 乇賳诏鈥屫� 丕夭 賴賲賴 丕賵賳賴丕貙 丨賯賵賯 夭賳丕賳 賴爻鬲卮 讴賴 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴 亘賴 卮讴賱 賴賳乇賲賳丿丕賳賴鈥屫й� 丕賵賳賴丕 乇賵 丿乇 噩丕蹖鈥屫й� 讴鬲丕亘 賲胤乇丨 讴乇丿賴. 丕夭 丕蹖賳 噩賴鬲 亘丕蹖丿 亘丿賵賳蹖丿 讴鬲丕亘 禺賵卮禺賵丕賳蹖 賳蹖爻鬲. 丕賲丕 亘賳馗乇 賲賳 丕乇夭卮卮 乇賵 丿丕乇賴.
倬.賳: 氐賵鬲蹖卮 乇賵 诏賵卮 讴乇丿賲 亘丕 氐丿丕蹖 丌乇賲丕賳 爻賱胤丕賳 夭丕丿賴. 賲賵爻蹖賯蹖 讴丕乇 卮丿賴 乇賵卮 禺蹖賱蹖 讴賲讴 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁� 亘賴鬲乇 丨爻 亘诏蹖乇蹖丿 亘丕 讴鬲丕亘 賵 卮丿蹖丿丕 鬲賵氐蹖賴 賲蹖鈥屫促�.
倬.賳 2: 蹖讴 賳讴鬲賴 亘爻蹖丕乇 噩丕賱亘 乇丕噩毓 亘賴 讴鬲丕亘 丕蹖賳賴 讴賴 賱丕丕賯賱 鬲丕 噩丕蹖蹖 讴賴 賲賳 丨丕賮馗賲 蹖丕乇蹖 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁囏� 丿乇 賴蹖趩 噩丕蹖蹖 丕夭 讴鬲丕亘 亘賴 爻蹖丕賴 倬賵爻鬲 亘賵丿賳 蹖丕 爻賮蹖丿 倬賵爻鬲 亘賵丿賳 賳賮乇丕鬲 丕卮丕乇賴鈥屫й� 賳賲蹖鈥屫促� 賵 卮賲丕 賮賯胤 亘丕 丿蹖丿賳 乇賮鬲丕乇賴丕 賲鬲賵噩賴 丕蹖賳 賲賵囟賵毓 賲蹖鈥屫篡屫�. 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴 賲亘丕乇夭 蹖毓賳蹖 丕蹖賳!丕
"丌賳噩丕 噩丕蹖蹖 亘賵丿 讴賴 賲丕 丌卮睾丕賱鈥屬囏з呚з� 乇丕 賲蹖鈥屫臂屫屬�. ...趩倬鈥屫池� 亘賵丿. 賲孬賱 賲賳...蹖讴 倬乇鬲睾丕賱 爻蹖丕賴 卮丿賴 賵 诏賳丿蹖丿賴 丿賵乇 丕夭 丿爻鬲 丕賵 丕賮鬲丕丿賴 亘賵丿. 讴賵乇賲丕賱貙 讴賵乇賲丕賱 丿賳亘丕賱 丌賳 賲蹖鈥屭簇�...賮丕夭 亘毓丿蹖 賳诏賴亘丕賳蹖 丌賲丿 賵 丿爻鬲 丿禺鬲乇讴 乇丕 丿蹖丿 賵 亘丕 賱亘禺賳丿蹖 爻乇卮 乇丕 鬲讴丕賳 丿丕丿... 賵賯鬲蹖 亘賴 丕賵 賳夭丿蹖讴 卮丿 丿禺鬲乇讴 丕蹖爻鬲丕丿 賵 亘丕 丨丕賱鬲蹖 讴賴 亘賴 賳馗乇 賲蹖鈥屫必驰屫� 丕夭 賴賵賱 卮丿賳 亘丕卮丿 趩蹖夭蹖 亘賴 夭亘丕賳 讴乇賴鈥屫й� 诏賮鬲. 趩蹖夭蹖 卮亘蹖賴 蹖丕賲 蹖丕賲...賱亘禺賳丿蹖 夭丿 賵 丿爻鬲卮 乇丕 亘賴 胤乇賮 爻乇亘丕夭 丿乇丕夭 讴乇丿. 爻乇亘丕夭 睾丕賮賱鈥屭屫� 卮丿... 蹖丕賲 蹖丕賲. 丌亘卮丕乇蹖 丕夭 賲賵賴丕蹖 爻蹖丕賴 亘丕賱丕蹖 趩卮賲丕賳 賲卮鬲丕賯卮 亘賵丿... 爻乇亘丕夭 賲賵賴丕 乇丕 讴賳丕乇 夭丿... 賮賯胤 丿爻鬲卮 賲蹖丕賳 夭亘丕賱賴鈥屬囏� 亘丕賯蹖 賲丕賳丿賴 亘賵丿 讴賴 诏賳噩蹖賳賴鈥屫ж� 乇丕 亘賴 趩賳诏 诏乇賮鬲賴 亘賵丿... 蹖讴 倬乇鬲睾丕賱 賱讴賴鈥屬勞┵� 诏賳丿蹖丿賴!丕
亘賳馗乇賲貙 趩蹖夭蹖 讴賴 賳诏賴亘丕賳 丕丨爻丕爻 讴乇丿 趩蹖夭蹖 賮乇丕鬲乇 丕夭 丕賳夭噩丕乇 亘賵丿...卮丕蹖锟斤拷 亘乇丕蹖 賴賲蹖賳 賲噩亘賵乇 卮丿 丕賵 乇丕 亘讴卮丿"
丕蹖賳 鬲賳賴丕 蹖讴蹖 丕夭 賲鬲毓丿丿 氐丨賳賴鈥屬囏й屰� 賴爻鬲卮 讴賴 鬲賵賳蹖 賲賵乇蹖爻賵賳 丿乇 讴鬲丕亘卮 丕賵賳 乇賵 丌賳趩賳丕賳 禺賱賯 讴乇丿賴 讴賴 卮賲丕 鬲丕 賲丿鬲鈥屬囏� 賯丕丿乇 亘賴 賮乇丕賲賵卮 讴乇丿賳卮 賳蹖爻鬲蹖丿. "禺丕賳赖"貙 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 爻乇亘丕夭 丌賲乇蹖讴丕蹖蹖 爻蹖丕賴鈥屬举堌池� 亘賴 賳丕賲 賮乇丕賳讴 賴爻鬲卮 讴賴 亘乇丕蹖 賮乇丕乇 丕夭 賲卮讴賱丕鬲貙 亘乇丕蹖 丕毓夭丕賲 亘賴 噩賳诏 賳丕賲鈥屬嗁堐屫驰� 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁� 賵 亘賴 噩賳诏 讴購乇賴 賲蹖鈥屫辟� 鬲丕 鬲賻鬲賻賲賴 丕賵賳 趩蹖夭蹖 讴賴 丕夭卮 亘丕賯蹖 賲賵賳丿賴 賴賲 亘丕 丿蹖丿賳 噩賳诏 丕夭 賴賲 賲鬲賱丕卮蹖 亘卮賴 賵 賳賴丕蹖鬲丕 丿乇 亘禺卮 乇賵丕賳蹖 亘爻鬲乇蹖 亘卮賴. 丕賲丕 賳丕诏賴丕賳 賳丕賲賴鈥屫й� 賳丕卮賳丕爻 亘乇丕卮 賲蹖鈥屫必迟� 讴賴 禺賵丕賴乇卮 (讴賴 丿乇 丿賳蹖丕 丕夭 賴乇 趩蹖夭蹖 亘乇丕卮 丕乇夭卮賲賳丿鬲乇賴) 丿乇 賵囟毓蹖鬲 賵禺蹖賲蹖賴 賵 賴乇 丌賳 賲賲讴賳賴 亘賲蹖乇賴.
丿丕爻鬲丕賳 亘丕 鬲睾蹖蹖乇 賲讴乇乇 乇丕賵蹖貙 亘賴 爻乇毓鬲 賲丕 乇賵 亘丕 丿賳蹖丕蹖 賮乇丕賳讴 賵 禺賵丕賴乇卮貙 爻蹖貙 丌卮賳丕 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁� 鬲丕 賳賴丕蹖鬲丕 賲孬賱 噩賵蹖亘丕乇賴丕蹖蹖 讴賴 賳賴丕蹖鬲丕 亘賴 賴賲 亘乇爻賳貙 賮乇丕賳讴 禺賵丕賴乇卮 乇賵 倬蹖丿丕 讴賳賴 賵 丕丿丕賲賴 賲丕噩乇丕. 亘丕 丕蹖賳丨丕賱 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 讴鬲丕亘 禺蹖賱蹖 賯賵蹖 賳蹖爻鬲 賵 亘蹖卮鬲乇 亘爻鬲乇蹖 亘乇丕蹖 胤乇丨 丿睾丿睾賴鈥屬囏й屰� 丕夭 噩賲賱賴 賲賯丕亘賱賴 亘丕 賳跇丕丿倬乇爻鬲蹖貙 毓賯丕蹖丿 囟丿 噩賳诏 賵 丕賱亘鬲賴 倬乇 乇賳诏鈥屫� 丕夭 賴賲賴 丕賵賳賴丕貙 丨賯賵賯 夭賳丕賳 賴爻鬲卮 讴賴 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴 亘賴 卮讴賱 賴賳乇賲賳丿丕賳賴鈥屫й� 丕賵賳賴丕 乇賵 丿乇 噩丕蹖鈥屫й� 讴鬲丕亘 賲胤乇丨 讴乇丿賴. 丕夭 丕蹖賳 噩賴鬲 亘丕蹖丿 亘丿賵賳蹖丿 讴鬲丕亘 禺賵卮禺賵丕賳蹖 賳蹖爻鬲. 丕賲丕 亘賳馗乇 賲賳 丕乇夭卮卮 乇賵 丿丕乇賴.
倬.賳: 氐賵鬲蹖卮 乇賵 诏賵卮 讴乇丿賲 亘丕 氐丿丕蹖 丌乇賲丕賳 爻賱胤丕賳 夭丕丿賴. 賲賵爻蹖賯蹖 讴丕乇 卮丿賴 乇賵卮 禺蹖賱蹖 讴賲讴 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁� 亘賴鬲乇 丨爻 亘诏蹖乇蹖丿 亘丕 讴鬲丕亘 賵 卮丿蹖丿丕 鬲賵氐蹖賴 賲蹖鈥屫促�.
倬.賳 2: 蹖讴 賳讴鬲賴 亘爻蹖丕乇 噩丕賱亘 乇丕噩毓 亘賴 讴鬲丕亘 丕蹖賳賴 讴賴 賱丕丕賯賱 鬲丕 噩丕蹖蹖 讴賴 賲賳 丨丕賮馗賲 蹖丕乇蹖 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁囏� 丿乇 賴蹖趩 噩丕蹖蹖 丕夭 讴鬲丕亘 亘賴 爻蹖丕賴 倬賵爻鬲 亘賵丿賳 蹖丕 爻賮蹖丿 倬賵爻鬲 亘賵丿賳 賳賮乇丕鬲 丕卮丕乇賴鈥屫й� 賳賲蹖鈥屫促� 賵 卮賲丕 賮賯胤 亘丕 丿蹖丿賳 乇賮鬲丕乇賴丕 賲鬲賵噩賴 丕蹖賳 賲賵囟賵毓 賲蹖鈥屫篡屫�. 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴 賲亘丕乇夭 蹖毓賳蹖 丕蹖賳!丕
January 30, 2023
When I need a dose of lyrical prose to just wash over me, I know I can turn to Toni Morrison.
Morrison always delivers something beautifully rendered, even if heart-rending, such as a Korean War vet whose having a damn hard time finding his way home.
Home jumps about from place to place, person to person. Home is, as they say, where the heart is, and Home is full of heart, albeit an often sad heart.
Do not come to this book expecting a linear story following a single character with a sole purpose. This novel gathers up various and variant pieces of people and constructs their parts in ways that get to the heart of their deepest matter. Some may find this style confusing. Fans of William Faulkner will find it familiar. But damn near everyone should give this book at least a moment of their time.
Morrison always delivers something beautifully rendered, even if heart-rending, such as a Korean War vet whose having a damn hard time finding his way home.
Home jumps about from place to place, person to person. Home is, as they say, where the heart is, and Home is full of heart, albeit an often sad heart.
Do not come to this book expecting a linear story following a single character with a sole purpose. This novel gathers up various and variant pieces of people and constructs their parts in ways that get to the heart of their deepest matter. Some may find this style confusing. Fans of William Faulkner will find it familiar. But damn near everyone should give this book at least a moment of their time.
December 27, 2022
丕讴孬乇卮賵 丿乇 賯胤丕乇 禺賵賳丿賲 賵 鬲噩乇亘賴 噩匕丕亘蹖 亘賵丿.
賮乇賲 乇賵丕蹖鬲 賯氐賴 乇賵 丿賵爻鬲 丿丕卮鬲賲貙 賯胤毓丕鬲蹖 讴賴 丕夭 丕賮乇丕丿 賲禺鬲賱賮 賲蹖鈥屫ㄛ屬嗃� 賵 丿乇 賳賴丕蹖鬲 亘賴 賴賲 賲蹖鈥屫必迟堎嗃屸€屫促堎�. 蹖賴 噩丕 禺賵賳丿賴 亘賵丿賲 讴賴 賴蹖趩鈥屫й� 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 讴爻蹖 亘賴 賳跇丕丿 卮禺氐蹖鬲 丕氐賱蹖 丕卮丕乇賴 賳賲蹖鈥屸€屭┵嗁� 賵 賮賯胤 丕夭 乇賵蹖 賵丕讴賳卮鈥屬囏й� 丿蹖诏乇丕賳 賵 賲丕噩乇丕賴丕蹖蹖 讴賴 亘賴 爻乇卮 賲蹖丕丿 賲蹖鈥屬佡囐呟� 爻蹖丕賴鈥屬举堌池囏� 賵 丕蹖賳 丿乇 噩丕蹖诏丕賴 禺賵丿卮 賳讴鬲賴鈥屰� 噩丕賱亘蹖 亘賵丿. 賳孬乇 禺賵卮鈥屫堌з嗃� 丿丕卮鬲 賵 乇丕賵蹖 賲卮賯鬲鈥屬囏й� 夭蹖丕丿蹖 亘賵丿. 丕賲蹖丿賵丕乇賲 亘毓丿 丕夭 禺賵賳丿賳卮 亘賴 賳跇丕丿 賮讴乇 讴賳蹖賲 賵 亘賴 亘乇丕亘乇蹖 丕賳爻丕賳鈥屬囏� 賵 爻禺鬲蹖鈥屬囏й屰� 讴賴 丿乇 噩賴丕賳 賵噩賵丿 丿丕乇賴 賵 賴賲蹖卮賴 丿丕卮鬲賴 賵 讴丕卮 讴賲 賵 讴賲鬲乇 亘卮賳.
丕禺蹖乇丕 亘丕 賮乇丿蹖 氐丨亘鬲 賲蹖讴乇丿賲 讴賴 乇賮鬲賴 亘賵丿 丌賲乇蹖讴丕 賵 丿乇 禺賵丕亘诏丕賴 丿丕賳卮噩賵蹖蹖 夭賳丿诏蹖 賲蹖讴乇丿 賵 丕夭 亘蹖鈥屫堌囒� 爻蹖丕賴鈥屬举堌池з� 亘賴 賯賵丕賳蹖賳 禺賵丕亘诏丕賴 卮丕讴蹖 亘賵丿. 賲孬賱丕 倬乇 爻乇 賵 氐丿丕 亘賵丿賳 丿乇 賲丨蹖胤鈥屬囏й� 毓賲賵賲蹖 蹖丕 爻丕毓鬲鈥屬囏й� 卮亘.
胤亘賯 鬲噩乇亘賴鈥屫簇� 睾蹖乇爻賮蹖丿賴丕 丕蹖賳 乇賮鬲丕乇賴丕乇賵 亘蹖卮鬲乇 丿丕卮鬲賳. (亘丕 丕蹖賳 倬蹖卮鈥屬佖必� 讴賴 賲卮丕賴丿賴鈥屫� 亘賴 丿賵乇 丕夭 禺胤丕 賵 亘丕蹖丕爻 亘賵丿賴 亘丕卮賴) 賲蹖鬲賵賳蹖賲 賳鬲蹖噩賴鈥屰� 賳跇丕丿蹖鈥屫й� 亘诏蹖乇蹖賲責 賴乇诏夭! (賵 賲鬲丕爻賮丕賳賴 丕蹖卮賵賳 趩賳蹖賳 賳鬲蹖噩賴鈥屫й� 诏乇賮鬲賴 亘賵丿) 亘賱讴賴 亘丕蹖丿 卮乇丕蹖胤 乇卮丿 賵 鬲乇亘蹖鬲 丕賮乇丕丿 乇賵 亘爻賳噩蹖賲 鬲丕 亘鬲賵賳蹖賲 賲賯丕蹖爻賴 丿乇爻鬲蹖 亘讴賳蹖賲. 賵 趩賳蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘蹖貙 鬲氐賵蹖乇蹖 亘賴賲賵賳 賲蹖鈥屫� 丕夭 賵囟毓蹖鬲蹖 讴賴 丕賮乇丕丿蹖 亘丕 賳跇丕丿 睾蹖乇 爻賮蹖丿 丿乇 丌賲乇蹖讴丕蹖 丕賵賳 夭賲丕賳 丿丕卮鬲賳. 丕賱亘鬲賴 讴賴 噩丿蹖丿 賳蹖爻鬲貙 丕賲丕 賴賳賵夭 賴賲 賲蹖鈥屫促� 乇賵丕蹖鬲鈥屬囏й屰� 卮賳蹖丿 丕夭 賳丕亘乇丕亘乇蹖鈥屬囏й� 丕賯鬲氐丕丿蹖 賵 胤亘賯丕鬲蹖 賵 賮乇賴賳诏蹖 丿乇 賲丨賱賴鈥屬囏й� 睾蹖乇爻賮蹖丿倬賵爻鬲鈥屬嗀篡屬� 丌賲乇蹖讴丕.
禺賱丕氐賴 讴賴 禺賵賳丿賳 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 賵 讴鬲丕亘鈥屬囏й屰� 丕夭 丕蹖賳 賮乇賴賳诏貙 亘賴 賳馗乇賲 亘乇丕蹖 賴乇讴爻蹖 讴賴 賲蹖鈥屫堌ж� 卮賮丕賮鈥屫� 賮讴乇 讴賳賴
乇丕噩毓 亘賴 賳跇丕丿 賲賴賲賴.
賵 賳讴鬲賴鈥屰� 丕禺乇 丕蹖賳 讴賴 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 乇丕噩毓 亘賴 噩賳诏 賴賲 賴爻鬲. 趩蹖夭蹖 讴賴 噩賳诏 丕夭 丌丿賲賴丕 賲蹖爻丕夭賴 賵 亘賴 卮丿鬲 鬲賱禺 賵 鬲丕乇蹖讴賴.
賮乇賲 乇賵丕蹖鬲 賯氐賴 乇賵 丿賵爻鬲 丿丕卮鬲賲貙 賯胤毓丕鬲蹖 讴賴 丕夭 丕賮乇丕丿 賲禺鬲賱賮 賲蹖鈥屫ㄛ屬嗃� 賵 丿乇 賳賴丕蹖鬲 亘賴 賴賲 賲蹖鈥屫必迟堎嗃屸€屫促堎�. 蹖賴 噩丕 禺賵賳丿賴 亘賵丿賲 讴賴 賴蹖趩鈥屫й� 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 讴爻蹖 亘賴 賳跇丕丿 卮禺氐蹖鬲 丕氐賱蹖 丕卮丕乇賴 賳賲蹖鈥屸€屭┵嗁� 賵 賮賯胤 丕夭 乇賵蹖 賵丕讴賳卮鈥屬囏й� 丿蹖诏乇丕賳 賵 賲丕噩乇丕賴丕蹖蹖 讴賴 亘賴 爻乇卮 賲蹖丕丿 賲蹖鈥屬佡囐呟� 爻蹖丕賴鈥屬举堌池囏� 賵 丕蹖賳 丿乇 噩丕蹖诏丕賴 禺賵丿卮 賳讴鬲賴鈥屰� 噩丕賱亘蹖 亘賵丿. 賳孬乇 禺賵卮鈥屫堌з嗃� 丿丕卮鬲 賵 乇丕賵蹖 賲卮賯鬲鈥屬囏й� 夭蹖丕丿蹖 亘賵丿. 丕賲蹖丿賵丕乇賲 亘毓丿 丕夭 禺賵賳丿賳卮 亘賴 賳跇丕丿 賮讴乇 讴賳蹖賲 賵 亘賴 亘乇丕亘乇蹖 丕賳爻丕賳鈥屬囏� 賵 爻禺鬲蹖鈥屬囏й屰� 讴賴 丿乇 噩賴丕賳 賵噩賵丿 丿丕乇賴 賵 賴賲蹖卮賴 丿丕卮鬲賴 賵 讴丕卮 讴賲 賵 讴賲鬲乇 亘卮賳.
丕禺蹖乇丕 亘丕 賮乇丿蹖 氐丨亘鬲 賲蹖讴乇丿賲 讴賴 乇賮鬲賴 亘賵丿 丌賲乇蹖讴丕 賵 丿乇 禺賵丕亘诏丕賴 丿丕賳卮噩賵蹖蹖 夭賳丿诏蹖 賲蹖讴乇丿 賵 丕夭 亘蹖鈥屫堌囒� 爻蹖丕賴鈥屬举堌池з� 亘賴 賯賵丕賳蹖賳 禺賵丕亘诏丕賴 卮丕讴蹖 亘賵丿. 賲孬賱丕 倬乇 爻乇 賵 氐丿丕 亘賵丿賳 丿乇 賲丨蹖胤鈥屬囏й� 毓賲賵賲蹖 蹖丕 爻丕毓鬲鈥屬囏й� 卮亘.
胤亘賯 鬲噩乇亘賴鈥屫簇� 睾蹖乇爻賮蹖丿賴丕 丕蹖賳 乇賮鬲丕乇賴丕乇賵 亘蹖卮鬲乇 丿丕卮鬲賳. (亘丕 丕蹖賳 倬蹖卮鈥屬佖必� 讴賴 賲卮丕賴丿賴鈥屫� 亘賴 丿賵乇 丕夭 禺胤丕 賵 亘丕蹖丕爻 亘賵丿賴 亘丕卮賴) 賲蹖鬲賵賳蹖賲 賳鬲蹖噩賴鈥屰� 賳跇丕丿蹖鈥屫й� 亘诏蹖乇蹖賲責 賴乇诏夭! (賵 賲鬲丕爻賮丕賳賴 丕蹖卮賵賳 趩賳蹖賳 賳鬲蹖噩賴鈥屫й� 诏乇賮鬲賴 亘賵丿) 亘賱讴賴 亘丕蹖丿 卮乇丕蹖胤 乇卮丿 賵 鬲乇亘蹖鬲 丕賮乇丕丿 乇賵 亘爻賳噩蹖賲 鬲丕 亘鬲賵賳蹖賲 賲賯丕蹖爻賴 丿乇爻鬲蹖 亘讴賳蹖賲. 賵 趩賳蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘蹖貙 鬲氐賵蹖乇蹖 亘賴賲賵賳 賲蹖鈥屫� 丕夭 賵囟毓蹖鬲蹖 讴賴 丕賮乇丕丿蹖 亘丕 賳跇丕丿 睾蹖乇 爻賮蹖丿 丿乇 丌賲乇蹖讴丕蹖 丕賵賳 夭賲丕賳 丿丕卮鬲賳. 丕賱亘鬲賴 讴賴 噩丿蹖丿 賳蹖爻鬲貙 丕賲丕 賴賳賵夭 賴賲 賲蹖鈥屫促� 乇賵丕蹖鬲鈥屬囏й屰� 卮賳蹖丿 丕夭 賳丕亘乇丕亘乇蹖鈥屬囏й� 丕賯鬲氐丕丿蹖 賵 胤亘賯丕鬲蹖 賵 賮乇賴賳诏蹖 丿乇 賲丨賱賴鈥屬囏й� 睾蹖乇爻賮蹖丿倬賵爻鬲鈥屬嗀篡屬� 丌賲乇蹖讴丕.
禺賱丕氐賴 讴賴 禺賵賳丿賳 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 賵 讴鬲丕亘鈥屬囏й屰� 丕夭 丕蹖賳 賮乇賴賳诏貙 亘賴 賳馗乇賲 亘乇丕蹖 賴乇讴爻蹖 讴賴 賲蹖鈥屫堌ж� 卮賮丕賮鈥屫� 賮讴乇 讴賳賴
乇丕噩毓 亘賴 賳跇丕丿 賲賴賲賴.
賵 賳讴鬲賴鈥屰� 丕禺乇 丕蹖賳 讴賴 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 乇丕噩毓 亘賴 噩賳诏 賴賲 賴爻鬲. 趩蹖夭蹖 讴賴 噩賳诏 丕夭 丌丿賲賴丕 賲蹖爻丕夭賴 賵 亘賴 卮丿鬲 鬲賱禺 賵 鬲丕乇蹖讴賴.
September 18, 2013
Home is my first book by Toni Morrison: I picked it because it was the easiest to find at the library, and I kept seeing the author's name in my friends reviews. I believe I've stumbled upon something good. If I go by the ratings and the mixed reviews here at 欧宝娱乐, I expect I will run out of stars to give when I get to her more notorious novels, seeing as I couldn't give less than five stars on my first experience of the author's work. I could find no real fault with the presentation. Some reviewers have called the book unsophisticated, underdeveloped and the characterization shallow, but I believe the simple, straightforward style of storytelling fits the subject like a glove. My reaction to the book was primarily on the emotional, not the critical level, in almost total anithesis to a similar book I read this year about people in distress ( The Book Thief ) when I kept finding fault with the general tone and the melodrama overload. Morrison is more understated, introverted, less angry than, for example, Walter Mosley, but in her own way, more convincing.
This is the story of Frank and Icedra (Cee) Money, two outcasts in search of a a safe haven, in a 1950's America that was still fiercely segregated. There is an almost mythological, biblical angle to the story, echoing the ancient tales of Aeneas quest for the promised land after the fall of Troy or the Exodus from Egypt of the Israelites. Frank witnessed as a child the eviction at gunpoint of his family from their Texas homes and the troubled resettlement in the dirt poor town of Lotus, Georgia. Growing up, he takes care of his sister Cee and dreams of escape from poverty and hopelessness. He seizes the chance of fighting in the Corean War, and leaves with two buddies to make his fortune in the larger world. Left alone in Lotus, Cee falls under the spell of a smooth operator from Atlanta and runs away herself.
If she hadn't been so ignorant living in a no-count, not-even-a-town place with only chores, church-school, and nothing else to do, she would have known better.
The novel shows the road Frank, his mind destroyed by war nightmares and alcohol, and Cee, abandoned by her lover and trapped in the house of a dubious medical practitioner, take in order to return to Lotus and the efforts they make to put their lives back together. The journey is primarily a spiritual, not a geographical one, with the emphasis on self awareness, dignity and community support, religious and secular alike.
Look to yourself. You free. Nothing and nobody is obliged to save you but you. Seed your own land. You young and a woman and there's serious limitation in both, but you a person too. Don't let [others] decide who you are. That's slavery. Somewhere inside you is that free person I'm talking about. Locate her and let her do some good in the world.
The lessons learned by Frank and his sister apply to more than the plight of African-American community and the period described here, to wherever and whenever a group of people is discriminated against based on their skin colour, sex, religion or economic affluence. The need to belong, to be respected, to be secure in your house and in your work - are as powerful and threatened today as they were in the 1950's. Most often than not succour and understanding is to be found not among the powerful, but among the dispossessed, who have been through the wringer themselves, and who would share more readily from their meager belongings. Their talk may be rough, and their expressions of love hard edged, but I found them genuine and moving;
... Men know a slop jar when they see one!
... You a privy or a woman?
... Who told you you was trash?
... If you don't respect yourself, why should anybody else?
So, the way out is through family and community and education, but most important of all is the HOME : the place, the people, the spirituality:
It was bright, brighter than he remembered. The sun, having sucked away the blue from the sky, loitered there in a white heaven, menacing Lotus, torturing its landscape, but failing, failing, constantly failing to silence it: children still laughed, ran, shouted their games; women sang in their backyards while pinning wet sheets on clotheslines; occasionally a soprano was joined by a neighboring alto or a tenor just passing by. "Take me to the water. Take me to the water. Take me to the water. To be baptized."
[...]
The sun did her best to burn away the blessed peace found under the wide old trees; did her best to ruin the pleasure of being among those who do not want to degrade or destroy you. Try as she might, she could not scorch the yellow butterflies away from the scarlet rosebushes, nor choke the songs of birds. Her punishing heat did not interfere with Mr. Fuller and his nephew sitting in the bed of a truck - the boy on a mouth organ, the man on a six-string banjo. The nephew's bare feet swayed; the uncle's left foot tapped out the beat. Color, silence, and music enveloped him.
Musical background :
- Delta Blues of course - Bessie Smith, Elmore James, Robert Johnson, John Lee hooker
- Instrumental Jazz - New Orleans
- Tracy Chapman
February 18, 2023
This is the 5th (I believe?) novel I鈥檝e read from Morrison, and I think it鈥檚 safe to say her books are not for me. I want to love her books so much; I find her subject matter and characters so interesting. But on a sentence level I just do not connect with her writing. Something about it鈥檚 simplicity comes across as empty.
With this book, I felt like it was the idea of a novel rather than a fully formed novel itself. It鈥檚 under 150 pages, which I鈥檓 totally fine with in other circumstances. But I felt this had way too much going on and never gave us *enough* of any one POV to make me care about what was happening.
With this book, I felt like it was the idea of a novel rather than a fully formed novel itself. It鈥檚 under 150 pages, which I鈥檓 totally fine with in other circumstances. But I felt this had way too much going on and never gave us *enough* of any one POV to make me care about what was happening.
September 6, 2021
丕蹖賳 禺丕賳赖 讴蹖爻鬲責
賳賵乇貙 亘乇丕蹖 趩賴 讴爻蹖 賲丕賳毓 丕夭 賵乇賵丿 卮亘 亘賴 丕蹖賳噩丕 賲蹖鈥屫促堌�
亘诏賵 丕蹖賳 禺丕賳赖 賲丕賱 讴蹖爻鬲責
賳賴貙 賲丕賱 賲賳 賳蹖爻鬲.
賲賳 禺賵丕亘 禺丕賳赖 丿蹖诏乇蹖 乇丕 丿蹖丿賴 亘賵丿賲. 丿賱賳卮蹖賳鈥� 鬲乇貙 乇賵卮賳鈥屫�
亘丕 賲賳馗乇賴 丿乇蹖丕趩賴鈥屫й� 讴賴 賱丕亘賴 賱丕蹖 賯丕蹖賯 賴丕蹖 乇賳诏 卮丿賴 倬蹖丿丕爻鬲
賵 賲夭乇毓賴鈥� 丕蹖 讴賴 丕賳诏丕乇 亘乇丕蹖 賲賳 丌睾賵卮 亘丕夭 讴乇丿賴.
丕蹖賳 禺丕賳赖 丕賲丕 睾乇蹖亘賴 丕爻鬲.
爻丕蹖賴鈥屬囏й屫� 丿乇賵睾 賲蹖鈥屭堐屬嗀�.
倬爻貙 趩乇丕 讴賱蹖丿 賲賳 亘丕 賯賮賱 丌賳 蹖讴蹖鈥屫池�
賳賯賱 丕夭 氐賮丨賴 5貙 乇賲丕賳 禺丕賳赖
鬲乇噩賲賴 蹖诏丕賳賴 賵氐丕賱蹖
賳賵乇貙 亘乇丕蹖 趩賴 讴爻蹖 賲丕賳毓 丕夭 賵乇賵丿 卮亘 亘賴 丕蹖賳噩丕 賲蹖鈥屫促堌�
亘诏賵 丕蹖賳 禺丕賳赖 賲丕賱 讴蹖爻鬲責
賳賴貙 賲丕賱 賲賳 賳蹖爻鬲.
賲賳 禺賵丕亘 禺丕賳赖 丿蹖诏乇蹖 乇丕 丿蹖丿賴 亘賵丿賲. 丿賱賳卮蹖賳鈥� 鬲乇貙 乇賵卮賳鈥屫�
亘丕 賲賳馗乇賴 丿乇蹖丕趩賴鈥屫й� 讴賴 賱丕亘賴 賱丕蹖 賯丕蹖賯 賴丕蹖 乇賳诏 卮丿賴 倬蹖丿丕爻鬲
賵 賲夭乇毓賴鈥� 丕蹖 讴賴 丕賳诏丕乇 亘乇丕蹖 賲賳 丌睾賵卮 亘丕夭 讴乇丿賴.
丕蹖賳 禺丕賳赖 丕賲丕 睾乇蹖亘賴 丕爻鬲.
爻丕蹖賴鈥屬囏й屫� 丿乇賵睾 賲蹖鈥屭堐屬嗀�.
倬爻貙 趩乇丕 讴賱蹖丿 賲賳 亘丕 賯賮賱 丌賳 蹖讴蹖鈥屫池�
賳賯賱 丕夭 氐賮丨賴 5貙 乇賲丕賳 禺丕賳赖
鬲乇噩賲賴 蹖诏丕賳賴 賵氐丕賱蹖
June 11, 2017
Nobel Prize winner, Toni Morrison, has a tremendous gift for writing novels that possess an 'in your face' quality. She takes the African American experience throughout United States history and forces you to really SEE and FEEL that experience .... no matter the discomfort it causes or the sense of horror and revulsion you feel. In her novel, Home, she writes a story about angry and dejected Korean War veteran , Frank Money and his younger sister, Cee.
This story, Frank and Cee's story, doesn't BEGIN after the Korean War. Instead, the Korean War becomes a sort of catalyst for Frank and Cee to face the horrors of their past. One of Frank's earliest memories is of living in Texas. He remembers his family's flight from Bandera County to Louisiana when the entire town was forced to evacuate the town within 24 hours or be killed. Cee was born right after their forced exile and Frank, from that time forward, became her sole protector.. he was entirely devoted to her. Frank and Cee's parents eked out a meager existence working torturously long and back breaking hours in the fields. Frank and Cee loved running through those fields until one night they became witnesses to an event that would change both of them forever. Although this event wasn't clear or explained until the end of the book, the horrors that they observed has stuck in my mind and is something I won't forget......
"... we saw them pull a body from a wheelbarrow and throw it into a hole already waiting. One foot stuck up over the edge and quivered , as though it could get out, as though with a little effort it could break the dirt being shoveled in. We could not see the faces of the men doing the burying, only their trousers; but we saw the edge of the spade drive the jerking foot down to join the rest of itself."
The two never talked about having witnessed a man being buried alive but it was always there.. hanging in the air between them. Frank and a couple of his friends left for the Korean War and Cee.... well, she was drifting. She was a young woman looking for someone to love and protect her; and with Frank's absence, she became involved with a man who would ultimately use her and break her heart. Without Frank's protection, she was vulnerable and this vulnerability is what led her to work for a doctor.. a doctor who seemed so kindly and solicitous and whom Cee believed wanted to protect her.What this doctor was actually doing, however,was his own sick form of eugenics.. he was systematically sterilizing young black women and Cee happened to be his latest victim.
At the same time that Cee was being experimented on,Frank returned from Korea. Dealing with the deaths of his friends during the war and his own guilt and self-loathing over his part in the war, Frank was wandering around California .... homeless and suffering from PTSD. He received word that Cee was near death and ever her protector, he made his way back to her... hoping to heal her and perhaps in doing so, he could find a way to heal and save himself.
Things hadn't changed much while Frank was gone, but Frank realized that HE had changed. He realized that he could no longer protect Cee from the world. He took her to some of the women of the community who used their home remedies and lots of prayers to nurse her back to health. While Cee was recovering, both Frank and she did a great deal of thinking. Frank finally had to deal with the ghosts from his past..both from his childhood and Korea. Cee realized that her problems stemmed from never feeling valued. She didn't feel valued by others but most importantly, she didn't value herself. She realized that although Frank valued her, "his devotion shielded her but did not strengthen her. She wanted to be the person who who would never again need rescue.. she wanted to be the one who rescued her own self."
After reading this story, the first thing I was struck by was that this incredibly moving story was contained in a book which was lass than 150 pages.Toni Morrison, through her novels,manages to present the African American experience in a way that not only educates you but makes you actually feel and experience all of the indignities and horrors that the characters experience. In the end, you come away from the story feeling not only hopeful... but somehow stronger. Frank's and Cee's story was one of people discovering their own worth ... a worth that had nothing to do with how others saw them or treated them and through this discovery, they became stronger. This incredible story reminded me of an Ernest Hemingway quote from his novel, A Farewell to Arms.... "The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places."
If you haven't read any of Toni Morrison's wonderful books, then might I suggest that you start with this one?
This story, Frank and Cee's story, doesn't BEGIN after the Korean War. Instead, the Korean War becomes a sort of catalyst for Frank and Cee to face the horrors of their past. One of Frank's earliest memories is of living in Texas. He remembers his family's flight from Bandera County to Louisiana when the entire town was forced to evacuate the town within 24 hours or be killed. Cee was born right after their forced exile and Frank, from that time forward, became her sole protector.. he was entirely devoted to her. Frank and Cee's parents eked out a meager existence working torturously long and back breaking hours in the fields. Frank and Cee loved running through those fields until one night they became witnesses to an event that would change both of them forever. Although this event wasn't clear or explained until the end of the book, the horrors that they observed has stuck in my mind and is something I won't forget......
"... we saw them pull a body from a wheelbarrow and throw it into a hole already waiting. One foot stuck up over the edge and quivered , as though it could get out, as though with a little effort it could break the dirt being shoveled in. We could not see the faces of the men doing the burying, only their trousers; but we saw the edge of the spade drive the jerking foot down to join the rest of itself."
The two never talked about having witnessed a man being buried alive but it was always there.. hanging in the air between them. Frank and a couple of his friends left for the Korean War and Cee.... well, she was drifting. She was a young woman looking for someone to love and protect her; and with Frank's absence, she became involved with a man who would ultimately use her and break her heart. Without Frank's protection, she was vulnerable and this vulnerability is what led her to work for a doctor.. a doctor who seemed so kindly and solicitous and whom Cee believed wanted to protect her.What this doctor was actually doing, however,was his own sick form of eugenics.. he was systematically sterilizing young black women and Cee happened to be his latest victim.
At the same time that Cee was being experimented on,Frank returned from Korea. Dealing with the deaths of his friends during the war and his own guilt and self-loathing over his part in the war, Frank was wandering around California .... homeless and suffering from PTSD. He received word that Cee was near death and ever her protector, he made his way back to her... hoping to heal her and perhaps in doing so, he could find a way to heal and save himself.
Things hadn't changed much while Frank was gone, but Frank realized that HE had changed. He realized that he could no longer protect Cee from the world. He took her to some of the women of the community who used their home remedies and lots of prayers to nurse her back to health. While Cee was recovering, both Frank and she did a great deal of thinking. Frank finally had to deal with the ghosts from his past..both from his childhood and Korea. Cee realized that her problems stemmed from never feeling valued. She didn't feel valued by others but most importantly, she didn't value herself. She realized that although Frank valued her, "his devotion shielded her but did not strengthen her. She wanted to be the person who who would never again need rescue.. she wanted to be the one who rescued her own self."
After reading this story, the first thing I was struck by was that this incredibly moving story was contained in a book which was lass than 150 pages.Toni Morrison, through her novels,manages to present the African American experience in a way that not only educates you but makes you actually feel and experience all of the indignities and horrors that the characters experience. In the end, you come away from the story feeling not only hopeful... but somehow stronger. Frank's and Cee's story was one of people discovering their own worth ... a worth that had nothing to do with how others saw them or treated them and through this discovery, they became stronger. This incredible story reminded me of an Ernest Hemingway quote from his novel, A Farewell to Arms.... "The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places."
If you haven't read any of Toni Morrison's wonderful books, then might I suggest that you start with this one?
June 24, 2020
This is one of Toni's last books and, I believe, one of her best. It is highly condensed (only 140 pages), but wonderfully written. It is the story of a black veteran of the Korean War with undiagnosed PTSD and his voyage home to a small Georgia town. He meets violence and racism on his way and nearly doesn't make it and when he gets there, he discovers that his sister has had huge issues of her own. What I especially loved, besides the typical awesome writing of Morrison, was the speech that his sister gets from her Aunt about picking herself up and respecting herself - a message that I try as hard as I can to transmit to my own daughter. A truly beautiful book.
A few quotes:
"Back was the free-floating rage, the self-loathing disguised as somebody else鈥檚 fault."(p. 15).
When he reached the cotton fields beyond Lotus, he saw acres of pink blossoms spread under the malevolent sun. They would turn red and drop to the ground in a few days to let the young bolls through. (p. 118)
mix. The Bulova watch was still there. No stem, no hands鈥攖he way time functioned in Lotus, pure and subject to anybody鈥檚 interpretation. (p. 120)
grave. Once it was heaped over with soil, Frank took two nails and the sanded piece of wood from his pocket. With a rock he pounded it into the tree trunk. One nail bent uselessly, but the other held well enough to expose the words he had painted on the wooden marker. Here Stands A Man. Wishful thinking, perhaps, but he could have sworn the sweet bay was pleased to agree. Its olive-green leaves went wild in the glow of a fat cherry-red sun. (pp. 144-146)
and my favorite:
Don鈥檛 let Lenore or some trifling boyfriend and certainly no devil doctor decide who you are. That鈥檚 slavery. Somewhere inside you is that free person I鈥檓 talking about. Locate her and let her do some good in the world.鈥� (p. 126)
A few quotes:
"Back was the free-floating rage, the self-loathing disguised as somebody else鈥檚 fault."(p. 15).
When he reached the cotton fields beyond Lotus, he saw acres of pink blossoms spread under the malevolent sun. They would turn red and drop to the ground in a few days to let the young bolls through. (p. 118)
mix. The Bulova watch was still there. No stem, no hands鈥攖he way time functioned in Lotus, pure and subject to anybody鈥檚 interpretation. (p. 120)
grave. Once it was heaped over with soil, Frank took two nails and the sanded piece of wood from his pocket. With a rock he pounded it into the tree trunk. One nail bent uselessly, but the other held well enough to expose the words he had painted on the wooden marker. Here Stands A Man. Wishful thinking, perhaps, but he could have sworn the sweet bay was pleased to agree. Its olive-green leaves went wild in the glow of a fat cherry-red sun. (pp. 144-146)
and my favorite:
Don鈥檛 let Lenore or some trifling boyfriend and certainly no devil doctor decide who you are. That鈥檚 slavery. Somewhere inside you is that free person I鈥檓 talking about. Locate her and let her do some good in the world.鈥� (p. 126)
May 9, 2020
This was my first encounter with Toni Morrison. I knew her as the voice of Black America and that she was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. Now I know why. It was by chance that I picked this novel, because I happened to record a reading on the radio. After a couple of minutes of listening the story captivated my attention. Yes, I knew about the Korean War and the racism in the US in the 50s, but following the fate of specific people transforms this general knowledge to personal engagement and compassion. I rarely want to read a book that I consumed as an audio book before. Here it is different.
March 5, 2017
Catching up here on reads from a few months back. I can鈥檛 let my 8th rewarding read of her work pass without saying something. Why keep coming back to her well? Yes, all her work reflects on issues of racism, on its many varieties and its pervasiveness, destructiveness, and insidiousness. But her prose, storytelling, and contribution to understanding human nature in its broad aspects makes her a consistently reliable source for great reading.
Here we get the story of Frank, a black Korean War veteran, making a rough journey across the South to somehow save a beloved sister, Cee, who may be near death while in the uncaring hands of a wealthy family where she served as a housekeeper. The brief message to come is all it takes to activate Frank out of a deep well he finds himself in. He is committed to a psychiatric facility for some violent crime he can鈥檛 remember. We only get the barest glimmer of the hell he has experienced in the war and can only guess his escape into alcohol abuse is a part of a condition of PTSD. With his town of origin in rural Georgia holding no sense of refuge, only his sister represents a sense of home for him.
As a reader, we only get elemental reactions to the pervasive injustice he witnesses in the treatment of blacks as he travels (usually be hitchhiking) through the Jim Crow South. His purpose begins to make him a man again and seems to allow him to restrain himself for acting on the rage that seethes within. For some perceptive insights into the mythical overtones and allusions of his journey and barriers he must surmount, I recommend checking out the review barriers he must surmount, I recommend checking out the review b Will Byrnes. Elements of the story harken to those in 鈥淭he Odyssey鈥� and the Bible. The story of his sister is also food for broader thought. Her kind and na茂ve nature led her to disappointment in romance and subject to exploitation in her work in the household of a doctor. There is some implication that the doctor is trying some untested experimental treatment on her when overwork and illness lead her to a bedridden condition. Perhaps there are shades of the Tuskegee College experiment of letting blacks with syphilis go untreated.
Because Frank is such a cypher in terms of his feelings and thoughts, many readers may find it a challenge to empathize with him. But by making him a lens and a witness on society, the reader is effectively put in the role of doing the work of creating their reactions. His constant movement and elements of metamorphosis at work within Frank are the sources of a special power I found in this relatively short novel. Because his town of origin in Georgia becomes a reluctant destination, the story bears comparison to the challenges felt by the Indian character in Boyden's 鈥淭hree Day Road鈥� over returning home from World War 1. The roles of Cee for a goal of Frank鈥檚 trip and for his sense of a homecoming to his self remind me of parallels to Inman鈥檚 journey across the Civil War South toward a largely imagined relationship with a woman in 鈥淐old Mountain鈥�.
Here we get the story of Frank, a black Korean War veteran, making a rough journey across the South to somehow save a beloved sister, Cee, who may be near death while in the uncaring hands of a wealthy family where she served as a housekeeper. The brief message to come is all it takes to activate Frank out of a deep well he finds himself in. He is committed to a psychiatric facility for some violent crime he can鈥檛 remember. We only get the barest glimmer of the hell he has experienced in the war and can only guess his escape into alcohol abuse is a part of a condition of PTSD. With his town of origin in rural Georgia holding no sense of refuge, only his sister represents a sense of home for him.
As a reader, we only get elemental reactions to the pervasive injustice he witnesses in the treatment of blacks as he travels (usually be hitchhiking) through the Jim Crow South. His purpose begins to make him a man again and seems to allow him to restrain himself for acting on the rage that seethes within. For some perceptive insights into the mythical overtones and allusions of his journey and barriers he must surmount, I recommend checking out the review barriers he must surmount, I recommend checking out the review b Will Byrnes. Elements of the story harken to those in 鈥淭he Odyssey鈥� and the Bible. The story of his sister is also food for broader thought. Her kind and na茂ve nature led her to disappointment in romance and subject to exploitation in her work in the household of a doctor. There is some implication that the doctor is trying some untested experimental treatment on her when overwork and illness lead her to a bedridden condition. Perhaps there are shades of the Tuskegee College experiment of letting blacks with syphilis go untreated.
Because Frank is such a cypher in terms of his feelings and thoughts, many readers may find it a challenge to empathize with him. But by making him a lens and a witness on society, the reader is effectively put in the role of doing the work of creating their reactions. His constant movement and elements of metamorphosis at work within Frank are the sources of a special power I found in this relatively short novel. Because his town of origin in Georgia becomes a reluctant destination, the story bears comparison to the challenges felt by the Indian character in Boyden's 鈥淭hree Day Road鈥� over returning home from World War 1. The roles of Cee for a goal of Frank鈥檚 trip and for his sense of a homecoming to his self remind me of parallels to Inman鈥檚 journey across the Civil War South toward a largely imagined relationship with a woman in 鈥淐old Mountain鈥�.
July 22, 2012
Toni Morrison never takes the easy way out. She rarely offers closure, she never spares the reader the pain, violence and disappointment that have shaped the black experience in America. Yet her books are never without slices of redemption, compassion and even moments of joy that make the intolerable somehow bearable.
Home, barely weighing in as a novel at 145 pages, packs every one of Morrison's literary themes into its compact format: Jim Crow, sharecropping, strong, independent female characters making their way and weaker women exploited by white and black men alike, eugenics, even slavery, if we consider what young Cee suffers. Morrison also confronts us with post-traumatic stress disorder, as the main character, Frank Money, returns the U.S. shattered by the Korean War. And there is a touch of magical surrealism, a technique that Morrison often employs to weave allegory into her brutal realism.
What makes such fullness of content possible in this slim volume is a departure from Morrison's Gothic, rich, lyrical style. Home is restrained, the sentences are often brief and declarative, the scenes are short; though she does use characters' remembrances of times past to show significant amounts of backstory. But her writing is as powerful as has ever been. I love this sentence, for its imagery, its rhythm, the way the beat of it perfectly mirrors its action. The "girl" in this sentence refers to a honeydew melon:
Two long, slow phrases - drawing out the knife, drawing out the anticipation - then smack! She cuts the girl in two.
This is what it's like reading Toni Morrison - every word, every phrase contribute to what she wants the reader to experience and how she wants the experience to feel. Of course, this is every writer's aim. Few succeed like Toni Morrison.
I didn't find this story transformative, perhaps because it is so relentlessly bleak, until the very end. But I find so much in the writing to admire.
Home, barely weighing in as a novel at 145 pages, packs every one of Morrison's literary themes into its compact format: Jim Crow, sharecropping, strong, independent female characters making their way and weaker women exploited by white and black men alike, eugenics, even slavery, if we consider what young Cee suffers. Morrison also confronts us with post-traumatic stress disorder, as the main character, Frank Money, returns the U.S. shattered by the Korean War. And there is a touch of magical surrealism, a technique that Morrison often employs to weave allegory into her brutal realism.
What makes such fullness of content possible in this slim volume is a departure from Morrison's Gothic, rich, lyrical style. Home is restrained, the sentences are often brief and declarative, the scenes are short; though she does use characters' remembrances of times past to show significant amounts of backstory. But her writing is as powerful as has ever been. I love this sentence, for its imagery, its rhythm, the way the beat of it perfectly mirrors its action. The "girl" in this sentence refers to a honeydew melon:
Sarah slid a long, sharp knife from a drawer and, with intense anticipation of the pleasure to come, cut the girl in two.
Two long, slow phrases - drawing out the knife, drawing out the anticipation - then smack! She cuts the girl in two.
This is what it's like reading Toni Morrison - every word, every phrase contribute to what she wants the reader to experience and how she wants the experience to feel. Of course, this is every writer's aim. Few succeed like Toni Morrison.
I didn't find this story transformative, perhaps because it is so relentlessly bleak, until the very end. But I find so much in the writing to admire.
March 25, 2017
Isn't it strange that even as hungry as we readers are for the written word, some authors still manage to elude us for years? Believe it or not, this is my first experience reading the beautiful writing of Toni Morrison. A novella, more than a novel, "Home" explores a veteran of the Korean War, Frank, and his sister, Cee. Frank is experiencing what we would refer to as PTSD , flashes of his time on the battlefield and the death of his comrades, including two of his childhood best friends haunts him daily. Cee is raw from the pain of the husband who abandoned her and is struggling to make her way in the world. As well, both brother and sister are dealing with the memories of childhood hardships. Each is trying to find their way "home."
I felt situated in the time and place of 1950's Georgia that Morrison recreates in her story. I liked that the story focused on a brother-sister relationship( there's only so many sisterhood books out there that a person can read, right?) and that both characters hold their own on the page. A good start to exploring Toni Morrison's work!
I felt situated in the time and place of 1950's Georgia that Morrison recreates in her story. I liked that the story focused on a brother-sister relationship( there's only so many sisterhood books out there that a person can read, right?) and that both characters hold their own on the page. A good start to exploring Toni Morrison's work!
December 17, 2013
I worship this woman and think of Paradise as an almost ideal novel (and not only cuz I lived all up in there), but this latest one is utterly disappointing throwaway fluff. Unless you're a completist fan, DO NOT BOTHER. If you have never read her, I absolutely FORBID you to start with this one.
She stated that she intended to show how hard it was for black soldiers coming back from the Korean war. Yeah, that woulda been cool if she'd given us the tiniest glimpse of that instead of an utterly charmed city-to-city lucky-break bonanza where a hard trip was made effortless by non-stop offers of everything from gratis housing to free new shoes.
I had hoped that Morrison would do her usual demystifying and antiromantic thang when the abused rescued girl gets home and gets homey treatments to salve her wounds, where the down-home folk remedies are more horrifying than their cruel white science infliction because whole communities are kept in ignorance by the vast normalized reality of institutionalized white "superiority." They are actually horrifying and ignorant, but presented in syrupy "it's-all-good-cuz-yer-home-now-girl" bullshit that she used to make fun of. So when they make homegirl sunburn her vajayjay to rehabilitate her womanhood, it works, and makes her able to get around well enough to discover the requisite Morrisondeepdarksecret which has no bearing on her life nor that of anyone she knows so it's all like what's the f*ing point.
I will always be a fan of hers, even if she continues riding on this out-of-gas kinda book, and anyone can have a dip in performance, and I know my lame ass doesn't deserve to kiss one page of Beloved with my profane lips, but I still have the right to voice my disappointment. In fact I think I'll turn back right now to Paradise's description of that canyon formation. Jeebus Kraiyst is that some writin'
She stated that she intended to show how hard it was for black soldiers coming back from the Korean war. Yeah, that woulda been cool if she'd given us the tiniest glimpse of that instead of an utterly charmed city-to-city lucky-break bonanza where a hard trip was made effortless by non-stop offers of everything from gratis housing to free new shoes.
I had hoped that Morrison would do her usual demystifying and antiromantic thang when the abused rescued girl gets home and gets homey treatments to salve her wounds, where the down-home folk remedies are more horrifying than their cruel white science infliction because whole communities are kept in ignorance by the vast normalized reality of institutionalized white "superiority." They are actually horrifying and ignorant, but presented in syrupy "it's-all-good-cuz-yer-home-now-girl" bullshit that she used to make fun of. So when they make homegirl sunburn her vajayjay to rehabilitate her womanhood, it works, and makes her able to get around well enough to discover the requisite Morrisondeepdarksecret which has no bearing on her life nor that of anyone she knows so it's all like what's the f*ing point.
I will always be a fan of hers, even if she continues riding on this out-of-gas kinda book, and anyone can have a dip in performance, and I know my lame ass doesn't deserve to kiss one page of Beloved with my profane lips, but I still have the right to voice my disappointment. In fact I think I'll turn back right now to Paradise's description of that canyon formation. Jeebus Kraiyst is that some writin'
July 25, 2018
Toni Morrison, Mulher, Negra, Feminista, a primeira mulher afro-americana a leccionar numa Universidade da Ivy League e a ganhar o Nobel da Literatura (1993). A cita莽茫o usada pela academia sueca foi "que em romances caracterizados por for莽a vision谩ria e lastro po茅tico, oferece vida a um aspecto essencial da realidade dos Estados Unidos".
N茫o fazia ideia de nada disto, e fiquei profundamente envergonhada com tamanha ignor芒ncia.
Com uma escrita absolutamente fant谩stica, simples mas envolvente, clean e levemente po茅tica, mas tamb茅m crua e extremamente forte, Toni Morrison deixa-nos completamente maravilhados com a hist贸ria de Frank, um veterano afro-americano, traumatizado com as experi锚ncias na guerra da Coreia, e Ycidra (Cee), a sua irm茫 mais nova. A viagem tem in铆cio ap贸s Frank receber uma carta que diz que Cee est谩 a morrer e apenas ele a pode salvar. A cidade de Lotus, no estado da Ge贸rgia 茅 o destino, mas pelo caminho temos a oportunidade de conhecer a segregacionista, racista, machista e opressiva Am茅rica dos anos 50. Intercalando com a viagem de Frank tamb茅m temos algumas breves passagens, em it谩lico, que s茫o as mem贸rias de Frank.
Naquela altura, e para os afro-americanos, Home talvez fosse uma ilus茫o.
鈥淔iquei ali um longo momento a contemplar aquela 谩rvore.
Tinha um aspecto t茫o forte,
T茫o belo.
Ferida ao meio de cima a baixo
Mas viva e de sa煤de.
A Cee tocou-me no ombro
Ao de leve.
Frank?
Sim?
Anda, irm茫o. Vamos para casa.鈥�
July 4, 2021
鈥滷iquei ali um longo momento a contemplar aquela 谩rvore.
Tinha um aspeto t茫o forte,
T茫o belo.
Ferida ao meio de cima a baixo
Mas viva e de sa煤de.
A Cee tocou-me no ombro
Ao de leve
Frank?
Sim?
Anda, irm茫o. Vamos para casa.鈥�
鈥滶 apesar de, 脿s vezes, por estar perto de Lily, lhe ser dif铆cil respirar, ele n茫o tinha bem a certeza se podia viver sem ela. N茫o era apenas o ato do amor (鈥�). Quando ele estava deitado com o peso muito feminino do bra莽o dela no seu peito, os pesadelos afastavam-se e ele conseguia dormir. Quando acordava ao lado dela, o seu primeiro pensamento n茫o era para a aben莽oado ferroada do u铆sque. E, principalmente, j谩 n茫o se sentia atra铆do por outras mulheres 鈥� quer elas estivessem a flirtar abertamente ou se exibissem a seu bel-prazer.(鈥�)鈥�
Finda a leitura deste livro, questionei-me muito sobre que pontua莽茫o atribuir. 5* que justifico porque:
鈥� 脿 semelhan莽a de Stoner, terminada a leitura deste livro, voltei a l锚-lo. E ainda bem que o fiz, porque apesar de ser um livro 鈥減equeno鈥�, cada cap铆tulo deve ser 鈥渄egustado鈥� e porque as personagens s茫o suficientemente complexas e ricas obrigando-nos a parar em cada palavra e em cada comportamento;
鈥� 茅 um livro sobre amor, sobre 鈥渟alvar鈥� aqueles que amamos, mesmo quando n贸s pr贸prios n茫o temos quem nos 鈥渟alve鈥�.
Tinha um aspeto t茫o forte,
T茫o belo.
Ferida ao meio de cima a baixo
Mas viva e de sa煤de.
A Cee tocou-me no ombro
Ao de leve
Frank?
Sim?
Anda, irm茫o. Vamos para casa.鈥�
鈥滶 apesar de, 脿s vezes, por estar perto de Lily, lhe ser dif铆cil respirar, ele n茫o tinha bem a certeza se podia viver sem ela. N茫o era apenas o ato do amor (鈥�). Quando ele estava deitado com o peso muito feminino do bra莽o dela no seu peito, os pesadelos afastavam-se e ele conseguia dormir. Quando acordava ao lado dela, o seu primeiro pensamento n茫o era para a aben莽oado ferroada do u铆sque. E, principalmente, j谩 n茫o se sentia atra铆do por outras mulheres 鈥� quer elas estivessem a flirtar abertamente ou se exibissem a seu bel-prazer.(鈥�)鈥�
Finda a leitura deste livro, questionei-me muito sobre que pontua莽茫o atribuir. 5* que justifico porque:
鈥� 脿 semelhan莽a de Stoner, terminada a leitura deste livro, voltei a l锚-lo. E ainda bem que o fiz, porque apesar de ser um livro 鈥減equeno鈥�, cada cap铆tulo deve ser 鈥渄egustado鈥� e porque as personagens s茫o suficientemente complexas e ricas obrigando-nos a parar em cada palavra e em cada comportamento;
鈥� 茅 um livro sobre amor, sobre 鈥渟alvar鈥� aqueles que amamos, mesmo quando n贸s pr贸prios n茫o temos quem nos 鈥渟alve鈥�.
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March 19, 2024Lotus, Ge贸rgia, 茅 o pior lugar do mundo, pior do que qualquer campo de batalha. Pelo menos no campo de batalha h谩 um objetivo. A excita莽茫o, aud谩cia e uma possibilidade de ganhar a par de muitas possibilidades de perder. A morte 茅 uma coisa garantida, mas a vida 茅 igualmente certa. O problema 茅 que n茫o sabemos antecipadamente. Em Lotus, contudo, sab铆amos antecipadamente, porque n茫o havia futuro, apenas longas horas passadas a matar tempo. N茫o havia outro objetivo al茅m de respirar, nada para ganhar e, 脿 exce莽茫o da morte tranquila de outrem, nada a que sobreviver nem por que valesse a pena sobreviver. Se n茫o fossem os meus dois amigos, aos doze anos j谩 teria sufocado. Eram eles, e a minha irm膩zinha, que relegavam para segundo plano a indiferen莽a dos meus pais e o 贸dio dos meus av贸s. Ningu茅m em Lotus sabia nada nem queria aprender nada. Seguramente n茫o era um lugar onde algu茅m quisesse estar.
A Nossa Casa 茅 Onde Est谩 o Cora莽茫o 茅, at茅 aqui, a 煤nica obra de Toni Morrison que n茫o me conseguiu agarrar. Por v谩rias raz玫es, e por uma em particular: senti um certo distanciamento entre narrador/a e protagonista - com os cap铆tulos que narram a vida das personagens femininas, a铆 sim, a recuperar aquela Toni Morrison que eu tanto admiro. Infelizmente, o destaque dado ao ponto de vista masculino ensombra as narrativas secund谩rias que, para mim, tinham maior interesse e, por isso, embora com um car谩ter sequencial, acess铆vel e muito menos complexo do que outros t铆tulos da autora, esta obra n茫o me deixou plenamente satisfeita. Parecendo querer abarcar demasiadas tem谩ticas (segrega莽茫o, viol锚ncia sexual e f铆sica, viol锚ncia contra crian莽as, guerra, s铆ndrome p贸s-traum谩tico e at茅 eugenia) num t茫o curto espa莽o, a narrativa resulta demasiado superficial e o seu final muito abrupto e surreal.
Ainda assim, como sempre, a estrutura pela qual a autora opta funciona muito bem, permitindo narrar, interior e exteriormente, os sentimentos e perturba莽玫es de Frank, veterano da guerra da Coreia (1950-1953), de regresso 脿 sua terra natal na Georgia para resgatar a irm茫 em perigo de vida.
Assim, como acontecia com frequ锚ncia quando se encontrava sozinho s贸brio, fosse e que fosse que o rodeasse, viu um rapaz a meter as entranhas de volta para dentro, segurando-as nas palmas como uma bola de cristal a despeda莽ar-se com as m谩s not铆cias; ou ouviu um rapaz apenas com a parte inferior da cara intacta, cujos l谩bios gritavam m茫ezinha. E ele passava-lhes por cima, rodeava-os, para se manter vivo, para impedir o seu pr贸prio rosto de se dissolver, para conservar as suas pr贸prias entranhas coloridas debaixo daquela camada de pele t茫o fina. Contra o fundo branco e negro daquela paisagem de inverno, o vermelho-sangue ocupava o meio da cena. Nunca desapareciam, aquelas imagens.
Pelo meio, e at茅 que se d锚 efetivamente o "regresso", as v谩rias personagens secund谩rias que nos s茫o apresentadas acabam por se perder na narrativa - o que 茅 pena - oferecendo material muito interessante para alimentar bastantes mais p谩ginas. E creio que o problema maior se relacione mesmo com o facto de a autora ter escolhido uma narrativa curta para abordar tantas quest玫es ao mesmo tempo. Para mim n茫o funcionou t茫o bem quanto seria de esperar. O pr贸prio cerne do livro - a busca do lar e a identifica莽茫o com ele - dissolve-se no meio de muitas outras quest玫es a serem trabalhadas e da dureza do seu trato por parte do/a narrador/a.
-Esteve na guerra?
-Estive.
-Matou algu茅m?
-Teve de ser.
-Como se sentiu?
-Mal. Francamente mal.
-Isso 茅 bom. Que o tenha feito sentir-se mal. Fico satisfeito.
-Como assim?
-Isso significa que n茫o 茅 mentiroso.
-Tu 茅s profundo, Thomas. -Frank sorriu. - O que queres ser quando fores grande?
Thomas rodou a ma莽aneta com a m茫o esquerda e abriu a porta.
-Um homem - disse ele, e depois saiu.
Felizmente, nem tudo isto junto 茅 suficiente para me desgostar com Toni Morrison. Outros t铆tulos haver谩 que me deleitem. Este n茫o foi um deles.
May 3, 2021
Many of the seventeen chapters in this novella appear as isolated short stories spread out in random chronology, told from multiple narrative perspectives, and coming to the reader as puzzle pieces to assemble into a coherent whole. Once assembled the story tells of the reluctant return in the early 1950s of an African American to his hometown in rural Georgia. About a year earlier he had been released from a newly integrated Korean War era U.S. Army into a country that was still segregated. We learn he is haunted by war memories and suffers physical symptoms that we today diagnose as PTSD.
As the puzzle pieces of the novel come together the reader learns the torturous back story of his family forcibly removed from Texas when he was a child. The family fled to Georgia because of relatives there, but this home was a place from which to escape at the first opportunity. He's compelled to return home to save his sister, from what at first is not clear. Eventually, we learn it is to save her from a rogue white doctor's life threatening medical experiments.
Both he and his sister did not fare well after leaving this hometown, so now they need to return for healing鈥攕he from physical abuse and he from war trauma. A scene from early in the book comes full circle at the end when he and his sister return to rebury a body鈥攁 symbol of closure and healing.
After many years of reading books I have developed my own rule for determining whether a novel qualifies for the distinction of being literary fiction. If the book is entertaining and enjoyable, it's not literary fiction. If the reading experience is equivalent of taking bitter medicine, something you would never do except that it's suppose to be good for you, then it's literary fiction. This book qualifies as literary fiction.
Update 4-26-2021:
After writing the above review I participated in an on-line discussion of the book. Another participant shared that many reviewers note the account in Home of a Korean War veteran traveling from Portland to Atlanta through the obstacles of a segregated USA is akin to the wonderings of the Ulysses epic. The name of the rural hometown that he and his sister ultimately reach is named "Lotus." Lotus eaters from Ulysses caused travelers in that epic to lose their memory and desire for home. Also, the last name of the protagonist in Home is "Money." The name of the town where Emmett Till was murdered is Money, Mississippi. These are most probably very deliberate coincidences that were carefully selected by the author. Another interesting thing that was pointed out at this meeting was that nowhere in the text are there adjectives used to describe the race of a character, but their race is obvious to the reader because of the way they speak to each other and the ways in which they treat each other. This is particularly true of the rogue doctor character. Because of the history of the and it's clear what sort of person the author had in mind.
As the puzzle pieces of the novel come together the reader learns the torturous back story of his family forcibly removed from Texas when he was a child. The family fled to Georgia because of relatives there, but this home was a place from which to escape at the first opportunity. He's compelled to return home to save his sister, from what at first is not clear. Eventually, we learn it is to save her from a rogue white doctor's life threatening medical experiments.
Both he and his sister did not fare well after leaving this hometown, so now they need to return for healing鈥攕he from physical abuse and he from war trauma. A scene from early in the book comes full circle at the end when he and his sister return to rebury a body鈥攁 symbol of closure and healing.
After many years of reading books I have developed my own rule for determining whether a novel qualifies for the distinction of being literary fiction. If the book is entertaining and enjoyable, it's not literary fiction. If the reading experience is equivalent of taking bitter medicine, something you would never do except that it's suppose to be good for you, then it's literary fiction. This book qualifies as literary fiction.
Update 4-26-2021:
After writing the above review I participated in an on-line discussion of the book. Another participant shared that many reviewers note the account in Home of a Korean War veteran traveling from Portland to Atlanta through the obstacles of a segregated USA is akin to the wonderings of the Ulysses epic. The name of the rural hometown that he and his sister ultimately reach is named "Lotus." Lotus eaters from Ulysses caused travelers in that epic to lose their memory and desire for home. Also, the last name of the protagonist in Home is "Money." The name of the town where Emmett Till was murdered is Money, Mississippi. These are most probably very deliberate coincidences that were carefully selected by the author. Another interesting thing that was pointed out at this meeting was that nowhere in the text are there adjectives used to describe the race of a character, but their race is obvious to the reader because of the way they speak to each other and the ways in which they treat each other. This is particularly true of the rogue doctor character. Because of the history of the and it's clear what sort of person the author had in mind.
February 26, 2022
A different view of 1950's America than given by Hollywood's clean 'Doris Day' version. This is a dirtier, poorer America where we meet traumatized, Korean War veteran Frank returning home from the war. Returning to an America who had not accepted him or his colour before and moreso now, eventhough he has more than paid his dues. His America is an America that even makes it difficult for him to travel from one place or another, a place without any wall of safety where he can rest a bit.
I really loved the resiliant strong women who help Cee - they are a balm to the little everyday aggressions that threaten to bring us down.
I really loved the resiliant strong women who help Cee - they are a balm to the little everyday aggressions that threaten to bring us down.
"The women handled sickness as though it were an affront, an illegal, invading braggart who needed whipping. They didn't waste their time or the patient's with sympathy and they met the tears of the suffering with resigned contempt."
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