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Amor
Heed y Christine, dos mujeres ya ancianas, han dedicado toda su vida a amar a un solo hombre y a odiarse de mil maneras distintas. Quien despertó en su día tanta rivalidad es Bill Cosey, el dueño de un hotel de la costa Este de Estados Unidos, que en los años cuarenta era el lugar de encuentro de la gente de color con dinero y con ganas de divertirse. Bill murió hace años, dejando un reguero de recuerdos y un testamento confuso que obliga a las dos enemigas a convivir bajo el mismo techo en una mansión destartalada, donde alimentan su antigua rabia con gestos despechados y palabras amargas. Pero ¿quiénes son en realidad Heed y Christine? ¿Qué relación las une? Toni Morrison llevará al lector hasta el tiempo en que eran niñas y amigas inseparables, y le presentaráa otras mujeres y hombres que conocieron a Bill, un fantasma que toma cuerpo gracias al amor que otros le entregaron en su día.
256 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 2003
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16416 people want to read
About the author
Toni Morrison
234 books23.3k 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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November 30, 2025
Book # 8 and final read for Black History Month, 2024. However of course, I will keep reading black writers forever!
“Take me by the hand…either she doesn’t know about me or has forgiven me for my solution. But once in a while her voice is so full of longing, I can’t help it. I want something back. Something just for me” (Morrison 203)
I have read this Toni Morrison novel a few times during the last 20-odd years since its publication in 2003. Since it was a bestseller in my youth, I picked up a copy and read her dark tale on the themes of love.
Later, as an adult after reading “Sula” for the first time, I realized that this is a darker riff about the complexities of friendship that began with that book.
“Love” continues on Morrison’s signature themes of the complications of loving too much. She writes about the dark recesses of the human condition, and of the toxic nature of masculinity and how societies and communities scapegoat people they cannot pin down (and Morrison usually uses black girls as examples) of the outsider in her literary discourse, “people with no imagination feed it with sex—the clown of love. They don’t know the real kinds, the better kinds, where losses are cut and everybody benefits” (Morrison 63).
My first attempts at reading “Love” ranged from feeling bewildered to dizzy- sometimes I felt like I missed something.
It might be the Toni Morrison novel that confused me most, because I did not feel a connection to it. It felt disjointed and haphazard- and for a time, was the Morrison I wanted to disown after having loved everything else she wrote.
I can safely write that I think this is a dark, underrated gem of book that needs to be rediscovered and treasured as much of her early, celebrated work. I've upped my original 2 stars (2003), to 3 stars (in 2015) and now, 5 stars.
In this reassessment of this baffling, yet intoxicating novel- it might be the most obtuse and interesting one in her oeuvre. Once again riffing on ghost stories, the supernatural, and of broken sisterhood, it’s a dazzling feat.
The story is set in the surreal Up Beach. The town patriarch and subject of perversity and gossip, Bill Cosey has died. He leaves behind his widow Heed, whom he married when she was only 11 years old. His granddaughter Christine and his daughter in-law May all live on his estate, bickering and fighting over his legacy, and while he was alive, for his attention.
His first wife Julia had died, so did their son Billy, so it’s only Christine and May left- alone with the haughty Heed.
L is the cook of Cosey’s estate, acting as narrator commenting on the events of what happened in Up Beach, set before and after the Civil Rights Movement, an all-black seaside community somewhere on the East Coast.
The setting, often shifting from 1995 then back to the 1940s, in this dreamlike world where there are almost no white people, of parties and jazz- is often surreal and expressionistic.
I say 1995 because the character Junior is 19 and born in 1975.
Then finally, rounding out Morrison’s dramatis personae are Vida and Sandler Gibbons, who worked for Cosey. Their grandson Romen, a strapping 14-year-old boy, becomes involved with Junor Viviane- a young woman released from prison, and hired by Heed Cosey to help write their history, and oh yes, to help draw up a will that makes Christine unable to get anything.
All these characters have been manipulated by Cosey in some way or another- and his lover, Celestial, confirms this. Heed and Christine were once childhood friends whose love for each other fell apart after Heed married her grandfather as a kid. Cosey’s always loved Celestial most.
Finally, Romen, being a child himself, like Heed- is manipulated by an older woman (though their age difference is only 5 years apart versus Cosey and Heed, who was only 11).
Pedophilia and the rape of children should never be accepted- but in Morrison’s world, characters’ motivations are always complex and ambiguous, which I think often is a metaphor for the notion that human relationships and race are always intersected in ways that might seem perverted to the outsider- but it’s the reality of what her characters, and her ideas often feel, “a clear sight of the world as it was, barren, dark, ugly with remorse…motives pointless” (Morrison 132).
In Heed’s case, she married Cosey in order to remain close to Christine, and to escape a life of poverty. It’s also after having been molested by Bill himself is that shame of having experienced perverted love is why she marries him- and Christine knows that he’s a dirty told man too. It is their inability to discuss and process sexual trauma is the wedge that drives the women apart.
Somehow, Heed’s tenacity reminded me of Laila from “A Thousand Splendid Suns”- also an adolescent who married a much older man in order to survive and protect her dignity. Except Cosey doesn’t treat Heed with the indignities that Rasheed imposes on his wives.
The language in “Love” is gorgeous, as it to be expected by reading a Toni Morrison novel. It bites with white hot intensity of emotions that jump off the page, often simmering in heartbreak.
The story of how Heed and Christine’s friendship fell apart are the saddest instances that happen in this book, of how it all went wrong, “they shared stomachache laughter, a secret language, and knew as they slept together that one’s dreaming was the same as the other one’s” (Morrison 132).
The exquisite finale that showcases their final scenes together is as haunting as any ending that she’s written in past books, a jazzy riff that both reconciles and releases love and pain.
As Heed and Christne’s time come to an end-so does their toxic love.
Ironically, though it begins with a lot of sex and lust, the love that evolves between Junior and Romen becomes the purest love of the story, love is free to continue, without Bill Cosey.
“Take me by the hand…either she doesn’t know about me or has forgiven me for my solution. But once in a while her voice is so full of longing, I can’t help it. I want something back. Something just for me” (Morrison 203)
I have read this Toni Morrison novel a few times during the last 20-odd years since its publication in 2003. Since it was a bestseller in my youth, I picked up a copy and read her dark tale on the themes of love.
Later, as an adult after reading “Sula” for the first time, I realized that this is a darker riff about the complexities of friendship that began with that book.
“Love” continues on Morrison’s signature themes of the complications of loving too much. She writes about the dark recesses of the human condition, and of the toxic nature of masculinity and how societies and communities scapegoat people they cannot pin down (and Morrison usually uses black girls as examples) of the outsider in her literary discourse, “people with no imagination feed it with sex—the clown of love. They don’t know the real kinds, the better kinds, where losses are cut and everybody benefits” (Morrison 63).
My first attempts at reading “Love” ranged from feeling bewildered to dizzy- sometimes I felt like I missed something.
It might be the Toni Morrison novel that confused me most, because I did not feel a connection to it. It felt disjointed and haphazard- and for a time, was the Morrison I wanted to disown after having loved everything else she wrote.
I can safely write that I think this is a dark, underrated gem of book that needs to be rediscovered and treasured as much of her early, celebrated work. I've upped my original 2 stars (2003), to 3 stars (in 2015) and now, 5 stars.
In this reassessment of this baffling, yet intoxicating novel- it might be the most obtuse and interesting one in her oeuvre. Once again riffing on ghost stories, the supernatural, and of broken sisterhood, it’s a dazzling feat.
The story is set in the surreal Up Beach. The town patriarch and subject of perversity and gossip, Bill Cosey has died. He leaves behind his widow Heed, whom he married when she was only 11 years old. His granddaughter Christine and his daughter in-law May all live on his estate, bickering and fighting over his legacy, and while he was alive, for his attention.
His first wife Julia had died, so did their son Billy, so it’s only Christine and May left- alone with the haughty Heed.
L is the cook of Cosey’s estate, acting as narrator commenting on the events of what happened in Up Beach, set before and after the Civil Rights Movement, an all-black seaside community somewhere on the East Coast.
The setting, often shifting from 1995 then back to the 1940s, in this dreamlike world where there are almost no white people, of parties and jazz- is often surreal and expressionistic.
I say 1995 because the character Junior is 19 and born in 1975.
Then finally, rounding out Morrison’s dramatis personae are Vida and Sandler Gibbons, who worked for Cosey. Their grandson Romen, a strapping 14-year-old boy, becomes involved with Junor Viviane- a young woman released from prison, and hired by Heed Cosey to help write their history, and oh yes, to help draw up a will that makes Christine unable to get anything.
All these characters have been manipulated by Cosey in some way or another- and his lover, Celestial, confirms this. Heed and Christine were once childhood friends whose love for each other fell apart after Heed married her grandfather as a kid. Cosey’s always loved Celestial most.
Finally, Romen, being a child himself, like Heed- is manipulated by an older woman (though their age difference is only 5 years apart versus Cosey and Heed, who was only 11).
Pedophilia and the rape of children should never be accepted- but in Morrison’s world, characters’ motivations are always complex and ambiguous, which I think often is a metaphor for the notion that human relationships and race are always intersected in ways that might seem perverted to the outsider- but it’s the reality of what her characters, and her ideas often feel, “a clear sight of the world as it was, barren, dark, ugly with remorse…motives pointless” (Morrison 132).
In Heed’s case, she married Cosey in order to remain close to Christine, and to escape a life of poverty. It’s also after having been molested by Bill himself is that shame of having experienced perverted love is why she marries him- and Christine knows that he’s a dirty told man too. It is their inability to discuss and process sexual trauma is the wedge that drives the women apart.
Somehow, Heed’s tenacity reminded me of Laila from “A Thousand Splendid Suns”- also an adolescent who married a much older man in order to survive and protect her dignity. Except Cosey doesn’t treat Heed with the indignities that Rasheed imposes on his wives.
The language in “Love” is gorgeous, as it to be expected by reading a Toni Morrison novel. It bites with white hot intensity of emotions that jump off the page, often simmering in heartbreak.
The story of how Heed and Christine’s friendship fell apart are the saddest instances that happen in this book, of how it all went wrong, “they shared stomachache laughter, a secret language, and knew as they slept together that one’s dreaming was the same as the other one’s” (Morrison 132).
The exquisite finale that showcases their final scenes together is as haunting as any ending that she’s written in past books, a jazzy riff that both reconciles and releases love and pain.
As Heed and Christne’s time come to an end-so does their toxic love.
Ironically, though it begins with a lot of sex and lust, the love that evolves between Junior and Romen becomes the purest love of the story, love is free to continue, without Bill Cosey.
Want to read
May 29, 2025i can't read enough toni morrison
September 1, 2016
"Young people, Lord. Do they still call it infatuation? That magic ax that chops away the world in one blow, leaving only the couple standing there trembling? Whatever they call it, it leaps over anything, takes the biggest chair, the largest slice, rules the ground wherever it walks, from a mansion to a swamp, and its selfishness is its beauty.”– Toni Morrison, Love
It’s almost September and I’ve managed to keep my Morrison-a-month reading streak alive. Eight Morrison’s later and she never fails to surprise me, even though these are rereads. I enjoyed Love, a well-written book with a lot of fodder for discussion. The strange thing is I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone mention it. I wonder why it doesn’t have the same appeal as some of her other books?
Love begins with our narrator introducing us to the coast community the book is set in; she talks about the past in nostalgic tones, how things have changed, and how things haven’t changed. The main story itself is centered around the legend Bill Cosey, a black entrepreneur, and the women in his life who fight for his attention: his (very) young wife, daughter-in-law, grand-daughter and a few others. Even though Cosey has been deceased for a couple of decades, he is still a very strong, disturbing presence in the lives of these women.
This is a sad story of misunderstandings, bitterness, cruelty, hurt and anger. The three women share a house and we aren’t sure why there is so much hatred between them. Morrison reveals things slowly and in a non-linear manner, and I’m left wondering how on earth women’s lives can be fulfilling if they are centred solely around men, especially when this competition is encouraged, which, in this book, resulted in very strong feelings:
“Hate does that. Burns off everything but itself, so whatever your grievance is, your face looks just like your enemy’s.”
“Finally they stopped, moved into acid silence, and invented other ways to underscore bitterness….Like friendship, hatred needed more thank physical intimacy; it wanted creativity and hard work to sustain itself.”
When it comes to Morrison’s writing, what stands out to me most are her descriptions of things, in particular how she uses colour; it’s often a short poetic respite from the tough subject matter she writes:
“Jade and sapphire waves fight each other, kicking up enough foam to wash sheets in. An evening sky behaves as though it’s from another planet– one without rules, where the sun can be plum purple if it wants to and clouds can be red as poppies.”
This was an emotional whirlwind of a book and Morrison takes us in so many different directions, down many paths of discoveries. There is plenty of food for thought in this one: families, their secrets and their hurts.
“The problem for those left alive is what to do about revenge–how to escape the sweetness of its rot. So you can see why families make the best enemies. They have time and convenience to honey-butter the wickedness they prefer. Shortsighted, though.”
It’s almost September and I’ve managed to keep my Morrison-a-month reading streak alive. Eight Morrison’s later and she never fails to surprise me, even though these are rereads. I enjoyed Love, a well-written book with a lot of fodder for discussion. The strange thing is I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone mention it. I wonder why it doesn’t have the same appeal as some of her other books?
Love begins with our narrator introducing us to the coast community the book is set in; she talks about the past in nostalgic tones, how things have changed, and how things haven’t changed. The main story itself is centered around the legend Bill Cosey, a black entrepreneur, and the women in his life who fight for his attention: his (very) young wife, daughter-in-law, grand-daughter and a few others. Even though Cosey has been deceased for a couple of decades, he is still a very strong, disturbing presence in the lives of these women.
This is a sad story of misunderstandings, bitterness, cruelty, hurt and anger. The three women share a house and we aren’t sure why there is so much hatred between them. Morrison reveals things slowly and in a non-linear manner, and I’m left wondering how on earth women’s lives can be fulfilling if they are centred solely around men, especially when this competition is encouraged, which, in this book, resulted in very strong feelings:
“Hate does that. Burns off everything but itself, so whatever your grievance is, your face looks just like your enemy’s.”
“Finally they stopped, moved into acid silence, and invented other ways to underscore bitterness….Like friendship, hatred needed more thank physical intimacy; it wanted creativity and hard work to sustain itself.”
When it comes to Morrison’s writing, what stands out to me most are her descriptions of things, in particular how she uses colour; it’s often a short poetic respite from the tough subject matter she writes:
“Jade and sapphire waves fight each other, kicking up enough foam to wash sheets in. An evening sky behaves as though it’s from another planet– one without rules, where the sun can be plum purple if it wants to and clouds can be red as poppies.”
This was an emotional whirlwind of a book and Morrison takes us in so many different directions, down many paths of discoveries. There is plenty of food for thought in this one: families, their secrets and their hurts.
“The problem for those left alive is what to do about revenge–how to escape the sweetness of its rot. So you can see why families make the best enemies. They have time and convenience to honey-butter the wickedness they prefer. Shortsighted, though.”
June 17, 2017
Morrison directs a cacophony of voices, hazy facts and anachronistic timelines that converge into the ever-changing, multi-faceted meaning of “love”.
At the center of the story, the ghostly figure of Bill Cosey, the iconic owner of a prestigious hotel located in the East Coast in the forties; and orbiting around his powerful absence, the shifting testimonies of different women who played an important role in his life… and death.
Can a man grieving for the loss of his wife and son find solace in youth without being a child molester?
What kind of love bonds two girls to a lifetime of malicious rivalry, jealousy and yearning that sprouted from misunderstanding and shame?
How many women slaved over in the shadows, adoring the public icon of a man, both evil and saint, while racial discrimination ripped apart families and exploited their children with total impunity?
Morrison’s prose resembles a mournful chant to the fatigue of living, the burdens of loving and the permanent scars caused by loss. Offbeat lyricism from an omniscient narrator who remains anonymous until the last pages of the book brings light into the obscure rhythms of this fragmented puzzle.
The man remains elusive: friend, benefactor, father, lover and abuser. His haunting presence diminishes as the fate of those who loved him resolves itself regardless of the past.
Contrarily, the women of his life become perfectly delineated; their voices reach such perfect clarity that they challenge moral distinction and years of censure and repressed silence to achieve communal vindication.
And love, with all its cruel beauty, triumphs over despair, even when life is nothing but a tenuous reflection of the things that could never be.
At the center of the story, the ghostly figure of Bill Cosey, the iconic owner of a prestigious hotel located in the East Coast in the forties; and orbiting around his powerful absence, the shifting testimonies of different women who played an important role in his life… and death.
Can a man grieving for the loss of his wife and son find solace in youth without being a child molester?
What kind of love bonds two girls to a lifetime of malicious rivalry, jealousy and yearning that sprouted from misunderstanding and shame?
How many women slaved over in the shadows, adoring the public icon of a man, both evil and saint, while racial discrimination ripped apart families and exploited their children with total impunity?
Morrison’s prose resembles a mournful chant to the fatigue of living, the burdens of loving and the permanent scars caused by loss. Offbeat lyricism from an omniscient narrator who remains anonymous until the last pages of the book brings light into the obscure rhythms of this fragmented puzzle.
The man remains elusive: friend, benefactor, father, lover and abuser. His haunting presence diminishes as the fate of those who loved him resolves itself regardless of the past.
Contrarily, the women of his life become perfectly delineated; their voices reach such perfect clarity that they challenge moral distinction and years of censure and repressed silence to achieve communal vindication.
And love, with all its cruel beauty, triumphs over despair, even when life is nothing but a tenuous reflection of the things that could never be.
July 23, 2025
"Love" was typical Toni Morrison. It starts out requiring 110% of your intellectual being; otherwise, you are lost from the gate. And that is what happened to me. This book was very confusing and hard to get into. The character depictions, the in-depth descriptions of an oceanside town, the timelines, and spirits from the sea claiming lives, etc., were just too much to concentrate on. I often found myself going back and rereading passages to figure out relationships amongst the characters. It wasn't until I reached page 107 or so that the book either started to flow, or my mind was clear enough to understand. That "aha" moment was like a breath of fresh air and redeemed Ms. Morrison as one of my all-time favorite authors.
Love can mean different things to different people based on their relationship with the person or thing they are in love with. The premise of this book is the love between two childhood friends who are made to hate one another by the very adults whose guidance and affection they needed to survive. As most of us know, to hate, you must first love, and love conquers all, even hate. The problem is, hate consumes so much of us in terms of time and energy. Here we have two childhood friends, taught to hate, who have wasted lives and find themselves in a quandary 50 years later, realizing that their love for each other is stronger than their hate. Unfortunately, this realization comes too late (well, not really in terms of forgiveness).
Ms. Morrison's tale also addresses other social issues that may have unsettled many readers, but that is her writing style. Slavery, oppression, child molestation, self-hatred, it is all there, even the narration of a kindred spirit. The ending left me wanting more closure and June Viviane having some form of blood ties to Bill Cosey, her Good Man.
Tracy L. Darity is the author of "He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not! and "Love...Like Snow In Florida On A Hot Summer Day.
Love can mean different things to different people based on their relationship with the person or thing they are in love with. The premise of this book is the love between two childhood friends who are made to hate one another by the very adults whose guidance and affection they needed to survive. As most of us know, to hate, you must first love, and love conquers all, even hate. The problem is, hate consumes so much of us in terms of time and energy. Here we have two childhood friends, taught to hate, who have wasted lives and find themselves in a quandary 50 years later, realizing that their love for each other is stronger than their hate. Unfortunately, this realization comes too late (well, not really in terms of forgiveness).
Ms. Morrison's tale also addresses other social issues that may have unsettled many readers, but that is her writing style. Slavery, oppression, child molestation, self-hatred, it is all there, even the narration of a kindred spirit. The ending left me wanting more closure and June Viviane having some form of blood ties to Bill Cosey, her Good Man.
Tracy L. Darity is the author of "He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not! and "Love...Like Snow In Florida On A Hot Summer Day.
March 10, 2015
Women clawing at and after the same man is a horrific thing to see, but hella fun to read!
Maybe "fun" isn't the perfect word to describe Toni Morrison's Love.* This is Faulknerian, not only in its language and flow, but its molasses-thick-and-dark emotional resonance. Love is like seeing a feminine take on Absalom! Absalom!: a beautifully shadowy Southern power; a corrupting energy that devours good souls.
An aloof man of substantial means in a Floridian coastal town of decades past is the sun around which competing planets revolve. These planets are women of various backgrounds all with some claim upon the man's radiant energy. Their world turns toxic as the reader witnesses the evils of too much radiation. These off-tilt and colliding friends are ripped apart, scorched whenever they come in contact with their beloved sun.
Morrison is a master at her craft, an absolute pleasure to read for those who can stomach a non-linear storytelling style. She will come at her topic at multiple angles. You must put the pieces together. Never fear, by the end this amoebic puzzle will come together in a portrait that is gorgeous, enlightening and heartbreaking. Love is life confirming, even if life can feel like one long, extended death.
* Perhaps it's not a good way to describe ANY of her books! I could be wrong, I haven't read them all, but jeez louise the woman writes some deep, depressing stuff!
Maybe "fun" isn't the perfect word to describe Toni Morrison's Love.* This is Faulknerian, not only in its language and flow, but its molasses-thick-and-dark emotional resonance. Love is like seeing a feminine take on Absalom! Absalom!: a beautifully shadowy Southern power; a corrupting energy that devours good souls.
An aloof man of substantial means in a Floridian coastal town of decades past is the sun around which competing planets revolve. These planets are women of various backgrounds all with some claim upon the man's radiant energy. Their world turns toxic as the reader witnesses the evils of too much radiation. These off-tilt and colliding friends are ripped apart, scorched whenever they come in contact with their beloved sun.
Morrison is a master at her craft, an absolute pleasure to read for those who can stomach a non-linear storytelling style. She will come at her topic at multiple angles. You must put the pieces together. Never fear, by the end this amoebic puzzle will come together in a portrait that is gorgeous, enlightening and heartbreaking. Love is life confirming, even if life can feel like one long, extended death.
* Perhaps it's not a good way to describe ANY of her books! I could be wrong, I haven't read them all, but jeez louise the woman writes some deep, depressing stuff!
May 21, 2025
"To enter a novel by Morrison is to enter a world fully imagined…" Contrary to its title, this Morrison novel isn't so much about love as it is about shame. Morrison herself says, "People tell me that I am always writing about love. Always, always love. I nod, yes, but it isn't true—not exactly. In fact, I am always writing about betrayal. Love is the weather. Betrayal is the lightning that cleaves and reveals it." And later: "...stories of characters whose vulnerability is turned into shame, into loneliness—the clear sense of having no one on whom one can safely rely."
Love is a story of shame but it's also a tale of female friendship, miscommunication, and the power of finally speaking up for oneself: "It was the comfort of learning from those countering sources that there were weapons—other kinds of baseball bats: defiance, exit, knowledge; not solitude, but other people; not silence but speech." It takes place in a town called Silk, in a house at 1 Monarch Street—home to the Cosey women: Heed, Christine and May, the wife, granddaughter and daughter-in-law respectively, of Bill Cosey, resident rich man and proprietor of the popular-in-the-40s, Cosey's Hotel and Resort. A woman named L (which possibly stands for Love?), the resort's first-rate chef and levelheaded arbitrator, tells part of the story: "I know it's trash: just another story made up to scare wicked females and correct unruly children. But it's all I have. I know I need something else. Something better. Like a story that shows how brazen women can take a good man down. I can hum to that."
L is a witness. She seemingly takes no part in the action of the story (at the end that changes and she brings about Cosey's ultimate downfall) and quietly oversees everyone and everything, witnessing firsthand the dynamics between Cosey and his women. There's Julia, his first wife, who is appalled when she discovers where his money comes from. (Bill Cosey inherited his affluence from his father, who in turn gained it by turning snitch and becoming a courthouse informer.) There's the working girl, Celestial, who seems to be his favorite. There's Vida Gibbons, the resort's receptionist, who calls him "the county role model," and considers him royalty since he saves her from a life of cannery work. And there's Heed, May and Christine: the "family" for which he builds that house in Silk.
At the center of the story lies the great act of shame that is subsequently unburied throughout the story: 52-year-old Bill Cosey marrying the uneducated 11-year-old child Heed, his granddaughter's best friend. It is one of the most fucked up dynamics in Morrison, and I didn't figure it out before the reveal despite trying to come up with family trees etc. Whenever I read Morrison, I draw up family trees because her novels are quite complex and I was hella frustrated when I couldn't figure the Cosey family tree out. I was so confused because from the jump we know that Heed and Christine were childhood friends, so I assumed that they were the same age. But then I couldn't wrap my head around how one of them could be Cosey's granddaughter and the other his wife. My brain didn't go there... and so when it was finally revealed what Cosey did, I was gobsmacked: "My grandfather married her when she was eleven. We were best friends. One day we built castles on the beach; next day he sat her in his lap." (LIKE YIKES!!!!) The truth was there all along, but the women's shame concealed it from me. Family secrets and not allowing oneself to speak foster the oppressive atmosphere that is shame.
This "marriage" upheaves the family dynamics. May, Cosey's daughter-in-law, is jealous of Heed. And so is Christine, who doesn't understand why she can't play with her best friend anymore and why she gets "special treatment". It's all so fucked up! The women of the Cosey household, deprived of true love, all vie for his love and affection, and therefore develop a hatred for one another and themselves. It is an empowering moment and a necessary coming-up-for-air moment when, at the end, Heed and Christine resolve their conflict and put their resentment to rest. The subplot about the ambiguous circumstances of Cosey's death, his secret affair with Celestial, and his will aren't all that important. We gradually come to understand that the deepest love story and the most important relationship in Love is between Heed and Christine. Their innocent childhood bond being cruelly severed by Cosey forcing Heed to be his child bride. Bill Cosey functioned like a Lucifer figure within the story, and actually reminded me a lot of Gloria Naylor's Luther Nedeed from Linden Hills. Heed becoming the heiress and Christine the servant. And their powerful reconciliation at the end. The dynamic between Heed and Christine reminded me of Nell and Sula in Morrison's novel of the same name.
The relationship between Heed and Christine is so fascinating (and, quite frankly, FUCKED UP) because Christine can't help but blame Heed to a certain extent. As a child, she is jealous of her. And growing up with the oppressive regime of Cosey's household, she'd never dare blame its patriarch. "One day this house was mine; next day she owned it." And as an adult reader with a fully formed frontal lobe, you wanna shake Christine and make her see that Heed is the ultimate victim of this situation, that being raped by 52-year-old Cosey isn't "owning the place". But then again, you also understand that Christine is a victim as well, growing up under Cosey's regime, witnessing this traumatic relationship. "There was a heap of blame to spread. He was the Big Man who, with no one to stop him, could get away with it and anything else he wanted."
What's great about Morrison is that she doesn't spell out for you, the reader. She is not a judgemental writer (as in she doesn't judge her characters for her readers) but she gives her readers enough space and information to come to their own conclusion (in this instance: judge Cosey hardcore and praying that he'll never see Heaven. Seriously, THIS MAN DESERVES PRISON!!! I cannot reiterate that enough!).
And I just love that Heed emerges as an empowered character at the end. She's still somewhat torn between blaming herself and blaming Cosey, but there's one thing she knows for sure: "In any case, she had been sold once and that was enough." And it is such a needed and sweet moment when Christine and Heed finally admit to each other: "He took all my childhood away from me, girl." It hits hard, as most novels on female friendship do, because so much of Love is spent with the two women judging each other, and being consumed by their own shame that they cannot acknowledge how similarly they were affected by Cosey's crimes. As a reader, I was rooting for Heed and Christine throughout the book and seeing the two of them finally finding a language for their shame, and thus overcoming it, was beautiful to see.
At the end, we learn that L was actually the one who came through. She saw Cosey's fuckery for decades and tolerated it but when he decided to leave his entire inheritance to Celestial, and not Heed, L knew: "I had to stop him. Had to. [...] It wasn't right." So it was actually her who poisoned his ass and forged his will, so that Heed would get her share. L, the woman you are!!! I know your love (and excuses) for Cosey pissed me off throughout the book but you really came in clutch at the end. THANK FUCK. Knowing that this man rots in his grave with none of his last wishes fulfilled GIVES ME SO MUCH PEACE, you will never understand.
Love is a story of shame but it's also a tale of female friendship, miscommunication, and the power of finally speaking up for oneself: "It was the comfort of learning from those countering sources that there were weapons—other kinds of baseball bats: defiance, exit, knowledge; not solitude, but other people; not silence but speech." It takes place in a town called Silk, in a house at 1 Monarch Street—home to the Cosey women: Heed, Christine and May, the wife, granddaughter and daughter-in-law respectively, of Bill Cosey, resident rich man and proprietor of the popular-in-the-40s, Cosey's Hotel and Resort. A woman named L (which possibly stands for Love?), the resort's first-rate chef and levelheaded arbitrator, tells part of the story: "I know it's trash: just another story made up to scare wicked females and correct unruly children. But it's all I have. I know I need something else. Something better. Like a story that shows how brazen women can take a good man down. I can hum to that."
L is a witness. She seemingly takes no part in the action of the story (at the end that changes and she brings about Cosey's ultimate downfall) and quietly oversees everyone and everything, witnessing firsthand the dynamics between Cosey and his women. There's Julia, his first wife, who is appalled when she discovers where his money comes from. (Bill Cosey inherited his affluence from his father, who in turn gained it by turning snitch and becoming a courthouse informer.) There's the working girl, Celestial, who seems to be his favorite. There's Vida Gibbons, the resort's receptionist, who calls him "the county role model," and considers him royalty since he saves her from a life of cannery work. And there's Heed, May and Christine: the "family" for which he builds that house in Silk.
At the center of the story lies the great act of shame that is subsequently unburied throughout the story: 52-year-old Bill Cosey marrying the uneducated 11-year-old child Heed, his granddaughter's best friend. It is one of the most fucked up dynamics in Morrison, and I didn't figure it out before the reveal despite trying to come up with family trees etc. Whenever I read Morrison, I draw up family trees because her novels are quite complex and I was hella frustrated when I couldn't figure the Cosey family tree out. I was so confused because from the jump we know that Heed and Christine were childhood friends, so I assumed that they were the same age. But then I couldn't wrap my head around how one of them could be Cosey's granddaughter and the other his wife. My brain didn't go there... and so when it was finally revealed what Cosey did, I was gobsmacked: "My grandfather married her when she was eleven. We were best friends. One day we built castles on the beach; next day he sat her in his lap." (LIKE YIKES!!!!) The truth was there all along, but the women's shame concealed it from me. Family secrets and not allowing oneself to speak foster the oppressive atmosphere that is shame.
This "marriage" upheaves the family dynamics. May, Cosey's daughter-in-law, is jealous of Heed. And so is Christine, who doesn't understand why she can't play with her best friend anymore and why she gets "special treatment". It's all so fucked up! The women of the Cosey household, deprived of true love, all vie for his love and affection, and therefore develop a hatred for one another and themselves. It is an empowering moment and a necessary coming-up-for-air moment when, at the end, Heed and Christine resolve their conflict and put their resentment to rest. The subplot about the ambiguous circumstances of Cosey's death, his secret affair with Celestial, and his will aren't all that important. We gradually come to understand that the deepest love story and the most important relationship in Love is between Heed and Christine. Their innocent childhood bond being cruelly severed by Cosey forcing Heed to be his child bride. Bill Cosey functioned like a Lucifer figure within the story, and actually reminded me a lot of Gloria Naylor's Luther Nedeed from Linden Hills. Heed becoming the heiress and Christine the servant. And their powerful reconciliation at the end. The dynamic between Heed and Christine reminded me of Nell and Sula in Morrison's novel of the same name.
The relationship between Heed and Christine is so fascinating (and, quite frankly, FUCKED UP) because Christine can't help but blame Heed to a certain extent. As a child, she is jealous of her. And growing up with the oppressive regime of Cosey's household, she'd never dare blame its patriarch. "One day this house was mine; next day she owned it." And as an adult reader with a fully formed frontal lobe, you wanna shake Christine and make her see that Heed is the ultimate victim of this situation, that being raped by 52-year-old Cosey isn't "owning the place". But then again, you also understand that Christine is a victim as well, growing up under Cosey's regime, witnessing this traumatic relationship. "There was a heap of blame to spread. He was the Big Man who, with no one to stop him, could get away with it and anything else he wanted."
What's great about Morrison is that she doesn't spell out for you, the reader. She is not a judgemental writer (as in she doesn't judge her characters for her readers) but she gives her readers enough space and information to come to their own conclusion (in this instance: judge Cosey hardcore and praying that he'll never see Heaven. Seriously, THIS MAN DESERVES PRISON!!! I cannot reiterate that enough!).
"Vida, like most people, probably resented the child because she stayed married to him, liked it, and took over his business. In their minds she was born a liar, a gold digger unable to wait for her twelfth birthday for pay dirt. They forgave Cosey. Everything. Even to the point of blaming a child for a grown man's interest in her. What was she supposed to do? Run away? Where? Was there someplace Cosey or Wilbur Johnson couldn't reach?"TONI, YOU JUST GET IT!!! She really said my characters might be brainwashed by the patriarchy and victim blame a literal child but you, you stupid ass reader, you don't get that luxury, you get to acknowledge the utter fuckery of this predator.
And I just love that Heed emerges as an empowered character at the end. She's still somewhat torn between blaming herself and blaming Cosey, but there's one thing she knows for sure: "In any case, she had been sold once and that was enough." And it is such a needed and sweet moment when Christine and Heed finally admit to each other: "He took all my childhood away from me, girl." It hits hard, as most novels on female friendship do, because so much of Love is spent with the two women judging each other, and being consumed by their own shame that they cannot acknowledge how similarly they were affected by Cosey's crimes. As a reader, I was rooting for Heed and Christine throughout the book and seeing the two of them finally finding a language for their shame, and thus overcoming it, was beautiful to see.
At the end, we learn that L was actually the one who came through. She saw Cosey's fuckery for decades and tolerated it but when he decided to leave his entire inheritance to Celestial, and not Heed, L knew: "I had to stop him. Had to. [...] It wasn't right." So it was actually her who poisoned his ass and forged his will, so that Heed would get her share. L, the woman you are!!! I know your love (and excuses) for Cosey pissed me off throughout the book but you really came in clutch at the end. THANK FUCK. Knowing that this man rots in his grave with none of his last wishes fulfilled GIVES ME SO MUCH PEACE, you will never understand.
July 8, 2025
The Dark Side of Love
In a solid historical background, emphasizing a variety of cruelties perpetrated towards women, “Love” explores the negative side of the feeling that goes by the same name.
In the plot, a rich man dies, leaving behind a small bunch of women fighting for his possessions.
The strong bonding each woman shared with the deceased male, triggered all sorts of rivalries between them.
What else can I say?!...
Sometimes the beauty, sometimes the poignancy!...😜
Moon has a dark side too! 🌝 🌚 ...
In a solid historical background, emphasizing a variety of cruelties perpetrated towards women, “Love” explores the negative side of the feeling that goes by the same name.
In the plot, a rich man dies, leaving behind a small bunch of women fighting for his possessions.
The strong bonding each woman shared with the deceased male, triggered all sorts of rivalries between them.
What else can I say?!...
Sometimes the beauty, sometimes the poignancy!...😜
Moon has a dark side too! 🌝 🌚 ...
March 24, 2023
Тони Моррисон не пишет легких романов. Ее интересуют в первую очередь женщины, и в частности чернокожие женщины юга США, но этот роман, пожалуй, обо всех. Ее героини все с непростой судьбой, с крутым характером и внутренней силой, чтобы противостоять вызовам и сложностям, постоянно накатывающим как волны на береговую линию их судеб. Роман сложноструктурирован - времена, голоса, судьбы – все переплетается в единую волнующуюся ткань повествования. Как обычно, Моррисон не абстрагируется от проблем современности и прочно вплетает в ткань повествования неизменные расизм, сексизм, бытовое и сексуальное насилие, разврат, молодежные группировки и царящий в них первобытный стадный инстинкт. Но этот роман посвящен женским драмам. Сложный сюжет, рваный, рассказанный разными людьми, крутится вокруг владельца отеля Билла Коузи и женщин, его окружавших. Женских драм здесь много. Да, когда, в одной семье бушуют эмоции, когда близкие подруги, почти ровесницы Гида и Кристина становятся родственницами, причем одна из них внучка, другая – жена. Они бунтуют и соперничают между собой, становятся врагами, борются за наследство, но потом понимают, что всю жизнь любили друг друга, несмотря на всю причиненную боль. Роман называется «Любовь», но с первого взгляда ее здесь и не распознаешь. Очевидно, есть похоть, есть разврат, есть сумасшедший секс, есть любовь для извлечения выгоды и материального благополучия и есть покупка любви – те уродливые формы любви, порожденные взаимосвязью любви с деньгами, в частности избытком или нуждой в них. Моррисон признает, что в нашем веке «все познано, но ничего не понято» и она пытается понять сама и заставить читателя задуматься.
Она очень точно замечает: «беспутным женщинам не утаить глупой наивности, этакой ребячливой настроенности на то, что принц, вот он, на подходе, уже спешит к ней.» Раньше, мне казалось, что такое ожидание свойственно вообще женскому полу в силу неправильных романтизированно-сказочных сюжетов, на которых воспитываются девочки, но поразмыслив, я полностью соглашусь с писательницей, самостоятельная женщина, рассчитывающая только на свои силы, не станет верить ни в кого, кроме себя. Ждут принцев, когда ничего не хотят делать и не хотят принимать ответственность на себя.
Моррисон жестко пресекает любые попытки самооправдания, почему женщина, у которой судьба не сложилась, становится озлобленной. Такая женщина почти всегда расскажет о мерзавце, чудовище, из-за которой она стала злобной, но не стала храброй, и такой женщине легче с кем-то переспать, чем пустить кого-то к себе в сердце. Если продолжить мысль Тони, то, чтобы полюбить, нужно быть храброй. Она рассматривает разные ипостаси любви, разные ее лики, почти всегда несчастливые.
Несмотря на то, что героини романа заканчивают его в финансовом благополучии, почти всем из них пришлось либо произойти из маргинализированных кругов, либо вращаться к них какой-то период жизни. О нравах, царящих в маргинальном мире, Моррисон зн��ет все и пишет о них животрепещуще и сильно. У нее вообще сумасшедшая сила слова. Это редкий дар.
Она очень точно замечает: «беспутным женщинам не утаить глупой наивности, этакой ребячливой настроенности на то, что принц, вот он, на подходе, уже спешит к ней.» Раньше, мне казалось, что такое ожидание свойственно вообще женскому полу в силу неправильных романтизированно-сказочных сюжетов, на которых воспитываются девочки, но поразмыслив, я полностью соглашусь с писательницей, самостоятельная женщина, рассчитывающая только на свои силы, не станет верить ни в кого, кроме себя. Ждут принцев, когда ничего не хотят делать и не хотят принимать ответственность на себя.
Моррисон жестко пресекает любые попытки самооправдания, почему женщина, у которой судьба не сложилась, становится озлобленной. Такая женщина почти всегда расскажет о мерзавце, чудовище, из-за которой она стала злобной, но не стала храброй, и такой женщине легче с кем-то переспать, чем пустить кого-то к себе в сердце. Если продолжить мысль Тони, то, чтобы полюбить, нужно быть храброй. Она рассматривает разные ипостаси любви, разные ее лики, почти всегда несчастливые.
Несмотря на то, что героини романа заканчивают его в финансовом благополучии, почти всем из них пришлось либо произойти из маргинализированных кругов, либо вращаться к них какой-то период жизни. О нравах, царящих в маргинальном мире, Моррисон зн��ет все и пишет о них животрепещуще и сильно. У нее вообще сумасшедшая сила слова. Это редкий дар.
May 11, 2021
4.5
Reread
Like Sula, Love has at its core a female friendship forged when the two are children. In Sula the question of if and how adults might’ve shaped the title character is left open-ended. Not here. Harm has been definitively perpetrated by selfish adults—patriarchs and enabling women, arguably even one that has information no one else does. (I first read this when it was published in 2003 and I couldn’t help but think of how close the name of the powerful man all these women seem to love, Bill Cosey, is to the name of a famous real man. I don’t know if that was Morrison’s intention, but later I couldn’t help but wonder if she sensed something most of us didn’t.)
Like in Sula we’re left to wonder how different the two friends, though they're from opposite sides of the socioeconomic scale, truly are—and if the adult interventions into their childhood bond have made the former friends more alike than not in their subsequent rivalry and hatred. Like in Paradise Morrison leaves the two unnamed at a crucial time and we’re left without a clear answer as to which woman is which.
Speaking of a paradise, snake imagery reveals the inner states of several characters. The perspectives of these characters arecorrected augmented by a first-person narrator that starts and ends the book. She narrates a few additional sections; other characters think and speak of her as well. Though she’s a minor player in one way, the others sense her power. While this woman saying “I’ll tell” seems mysteriously threatening at the time she says it, the words have a later force. They also point to the way Morrison has chosen to narrate the novel: a story of how a story is told running alongside the other stories.
The title of the book is a word that is referenced, yet unsaid, in two powerful instances. It’s stated once when it’s truly meant.
Reread
Like Sula, Love has at its core a female friendship forged when the two are children. In Sula the question of if and how adults might’ve shaped the title character is left open-ended. Not here. Harm has been definitively perpetrated by selfish adults—patriarchs and enabling women, arguably even one that has information no one else does. (I first read this when it was published in 2003 and I couldn’t help but think of how close the name of the powerful man all these women seem to love, Bill Cosey, is to the name of a famous real man. I don’t know if that was Morrison’s intention, but later I couldn’t help but wonder if she sensed something most of us didn’t.)
Like in Sula we’re left to wonder how different the two friends, though they're from opposite sides of the socioeconomic scale, truly are—and if the adult interventions into their childhood bond have made the former friends more alike than not in their subsequent rivalry and hatred. Like in Paradise Morrison leaves the two unnamed at a crucial time and we’re left without a clear answer as to which woman is which.
Speaking of a paradise, snake imagery reveals the inner states of several characters. The perspectives of these characters are
The title of the book is a word that is referenced, yet unsaid, in two powerful instances. It’s stated once when it’s truly meant.
March 29, 2017
Dammit to hell, Toni Morrison.
Why do you do this?
I really need to read this author more than once every seven years because I always forget what a beating she doles out in her worn but lovely velvet gloves.
Here is a pictorial representation of what it's like to read a Toni Morrison novel, this one being no exception:
Going along, so lovely. There’s an undercurrent of discomfort but just pull your jacket tighter and you’ll be fine. It’s worth it for the view.
Only then there’s a crack, a loud snap, and the ground shakes a bit and you turn around and AAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH!
Everything is broken and buried, everything is covered in breath-robbing heaviness. It's so cold, so dark, so horrible.
And then the sun comes out and the dogs arrive but who the hell cares because you're too done for.
Oh my god, every single time.
Everything from here on out is me being all ranty and plot-discussing so go ahead and move on to another review instead of opening this can of spoils.
(Photo of elk and snowy mountains courtesy of the Estes Park tourist website, swipered without permission)
(P.S. - it's idiosyncratic, perhaps, to use imagery of avalanches to describe Morrison's works which more often take place in the American south where there are no avalanches but hurricanes and tsunamis, while more appropriate to the settings, didn't seem as comparable both since there's warning and evacuation time before those events and a because I live near avalanches so understand them far better than I do lowland water disasters)
Why do you do this?
I really need to read this author more than once every seven years because I always forget what a beating she doles out in her worn but lovely velvet gloves.
Here is a pictorial representation of what it's like to read a Toni Morrison novel, this one being no exception:
Going along, so lovely. There’s an undercurrent of discomfort but just pull your jacket tighter and you’ll be fine. It’s worth it for the view.
Only then there’s a crack, a loud snap, and the ground shakes a bit and you turn around and AAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH!
Everything is broken and buried, everything is covered in breath-robbing heaviness. It's so cold, so dark, so horrible.
And then the sun comes out and the dogs arrive but who the hell cares because you're too done for.
Oh my god, every single time.
Everything from here on out is me being all ranty and plot-discussing so go ahead and move on to another review instead of opening this can of spoils.
(Photo of elk and snowy mountains courtesy of the Estes Park tourist website, swipered without permission)
(P.S. - it's idiosyncratic, perhaps, to use imagery of avalanches to describe Morrison's works which more often take place in the American south where there are no avalanches but hurricanes and tsunamis, while more appropriate to the settings, didn't seem as comparable both since there's warning and evacuation time before those events and a because I live near avalanches so understand them far better than I do lowland water disasters)
July 11, 2018
I found this book to be a bit disjointed and found it really difficult to connect to any of the characters. Why they were all fighting over the same (horrible) man, is beyond me!
August 3, 2024
3.5
Beautifully written, and fantastic characters, but I didn't really feel involved with the story
Beautifully written, and fantastic characters, but I didn't really feel involved with the story
February 4, 2024
Irving has the The Hotel New Hampshire, Ishiguro—The Unconsoled, King—The Shining. This is Toni Morrison's hotel novel, and twisted is just one word for it. Her earlier work has the name recognition, but she did continue writing for nearly thirty years after Beloved, and Love is just one shining example. Miss Havisham, who?
Bill Cosey was the owner of Cosey’s Hotel and Resort and the women who orbited him in life—second wife, daughter-in-law, granddaughter, and the mysterious L.—have been haunted by his memory since his death. Enter Junior Viviane, to perform what amounts to an exorcism. Love can be romantic, platonic, obsessive, erotic, but let’s not overlook the love that is enduring.
Now love is all well and good and all, but did I mention twisted? Reinforce the thread on which your pearls are strung because you just may just end up clutching so hard that you're left having to pick them up off the floor. Or the grass. Or from under that favorite library chair.
Bill Cosey was the owner of Cosey’s Hotel and Resort and the women who orbited him in life—second wife, daughter-in-law, granddaughter, and the mysterious L.—have been haunted by his memory since his death. Enter Junior Viviane, to perform what amounts to an exorcism. Love can be romantic, platonic, obsessive, erotic, but let’s not overlook the love that is enduring.
Now love is all well and good and all, but did I mention twisted? Reinforce the thread on which your pearls are strung because you just may just end up clutching so hard that you're left having to pick them up off the floor. Or the grass. Or from under that favorite library chair.
September 29, 2016
Ovo je fenomenalno i briljantno napisana knjiga... Tesko je povjerovati da na dvjestotinjak stranica mozes dozivjeti ovakve kompleksne odnose i da nije neprimjereno, nazvala bih je obiteljskom sagom.
Jedan od onih klasika koji nije najjednostavniji za citanje u smislu da zahtjeva ozbiljnu koncentraciju zbog konstantnih vremenskih skokova i na trenutke otezanog nelineranog, razbijenog pripovijednja (premda ne kao sto to nalazim u Faulkneru - a vidim da se takve paralele uglavnom vuku). No, stil pisanja je toliko prekrasan i ne znam s kojim bih ga sad mogla usporediti. Osjecaj je kao da sam procitala knjigu poezije i sad mi je bice na miru neko vrijeme.
Najveci paradoks u cijeloj prici je sto se ona sastoji od uzasnih dijelova i ostavlja bas gorak okus. To mi se dogadalo i s Cestom, knjiga koja izaziva tjeskobu i uzas, a u isto vrijeme, ima li ista ljepse?
Okosnica radnje je Bill Cosey, vlasnik ljetovalista i pripadnih postratne afroamericke srednje klase, koji je unatoc tome sto je mrtav vec 25 godina i dalje glavni pokretac radnje i svih gotickih, poremecenih odnosa medu likovima... Studija je to o ljubavi i posvecenosti mrznji, osamljenosti i oprostu.
Kroz 9 poglavlja, rasplice se prica o Coseyju i to kroz oci razlicitih naratora i naratorica. S jedne strane, zaposljava mjestane i zaista je poslodavac za pozeljeti, s druge strane, bogatstvo je stekao nasljedstvom od svojeg djeda koji je afroamerikance cinkao... Zeni jedanaestogodisnju djevojcicu i to iz posve perfidnih, prepredenih i degutantnih razloga. Upropastava prijateljstvo svoje jedanaestogodisnje zene Oprez i svoje unuke Christine na nacin da predatorski iskoristava djecju sklonost krivnji. To malo prijateljstvo pretvara se u dozivotnu, patolosku mrznju... Nakon smrti ostavlja hotel koji se iz luksuznog mjesta pretvara u gotovo kazalisnu rusevinu i podlogu scenama kakvih se ni Henry James ne bi posramio. Ostali likovi sluze kako bi oslikali prilike u kojima se afroamericko stanovnistvo nalazilo, a posebno mjesto zauzima lik Mlade koja se pojavljuje u nekoj verziji sluskinje (kao sto u svim juznjackim romanima, sluskinja obicno i jest centralni lik koja je naratorica obiteljske povijesti), a ovdje je simbolom neceg demonskog i izravan medij i poveznica mrtvog Coseya sa svijetom zivih. Ali prica je to koju bi mogla nazvati vecom od zivota, dijelom i zbog tajanstvene naratorice L, a dijelom zato jer je to savrseno stilski napisan roman. Ni ne cudi, zena ima Nobela...
Mislim da je najljepse to sto sam vec na prvoj stranici ponavljala isti ulomak u sebi jer je naprosto predivno zvucao, sto mi se isto ponavljalo na desetke puta kroz citanje i sto svejedno nisam imala pojma da ce to biti bas jako briljantno napisan roman. Rijetko nailazim na gradaciju u tom smislu, da me obuzme podivljali kresendo, a da svako poglavlje ranije doslovno za nijansu priprema teren, pa na samom kraju izade nesto tako veliko i prelijepo.
Ovo je moj prvi roman Morrisonove tako da sam preko svake mjere zanesena:) Znam da ona geografski bas i ne pripada najdrazem Jugu, ali osjeca se u njoj, a meni to dovoljno da se raspametim <3
Jedan od onih klasika koji nije najjednostavniji za citanje u smislu da zahtjeva ozbiljnu koncentraciju zbog konstantnih vremenskih skokova i na trenutke otezanog nelineranog, razbijenog pripovijednja (premda ne kao sto to nalazim u Faulkneru - a vidim da se takve paralele uglavnom vuku). No, stil pisanja je toliko prekrasan i ne znam s kojim bih ga sad mogla usporediti. Osjecaj je kao da sam procitala knjigu poezije i sad mi je bice na miru neko vrijeme.
Najveci paradoks u cijeloj prici je sto se ona sastoji od uzasnih dijelova i ostavlja bas gorak okus. To mi se dogadalo i s Cestom, knjiga koja izaziva tjeskobu i uzas, a u isto vrijeme, ima li ista ljepse?
Okosnica radnje je Bill Cosey, vlasnik ljetovalista i pripadnih postratne afroamericke srednje klase, koji je unatoc tome sto je mrtav vec 25 godina i dalje glavni pokretac radnje i svih gotickih, poremecenih odnosa medu likovima... Studija je to o ljubavi i posvecenosti mrznji, osamljenosti i oprostu.
Kroz 9 poglavlja, rasplice se prica o Coseyju i to kroz oci razlicitih naratora i naratorica. S jedne strane, zaposljava mjestane i zaista je poslodavac za pozeljeti, s druge strane, bogatstvo je stekao nasljedstvom od svojeg djeda koji je afroamerikance cinkao... Zeni jedanaestogodisnju djevojcicu i to iz posve perfidnih, prepredenih i degutantnih razloga. Upropastava prijateljstvo svoje jedanaestogodisnje zene Oprez i svoje unuke Christine na nacin da predatorski iskoristava djecju sklonost krivnji. To malo prijateljstvo pretvara se u dozivotnu, patolosku mrznju... Nakon smrti ostavlja hotel koji se iz luksuznog mjesta pretvara u gotovo kazalisnu rusevinu i podlogu scenama kakvih se ni Henry James ne bi posramio. Ostali likovi sluze kako bi oslikali prilike u kojima se afroamericko stanovnistvo nalazilo, a posebno mjesto zauzima lik Mlade koja se pojavljuje u nekoj verziji sluskinje (kao sto u svim juznjackim romanima, sluskinja obicno i jest centralni lik koja je naratorica obiteljske povijesti), a ovdje je simbolom neceg demonskog i izravan medij i poveznica mrtvog Coseya sa svijetom zivih. Ali prica je to koju bi mogla nazvati vecom od zivota, dijelom i zbog tajanstvene naratorice L, a dijelom zato jer je to savrseno stilski napisan roman. Ni ne cudi, zena ima Nobela...
Mislim da je najljepse to sto sam vec na prvoj stranici ponavljala isti ulomak u sebi jer je naprosto predivno zvucao, sto mi se isto ponavljalo na desetke puta kroz citanje i sto svejedno nisam imala pojma da ce to biti bas jako briljantno napisan roman. Rijetko nailazim na gradaciju u tom smislu, da me obuzme podivljali kresendo, a da svako poglavlje ranije doslovno za nijansu priprema teren, pa na samom kraju izade nesto tako veliko i prelijepo.
Ovo je moj prvi roman Morrisonove tako da sam preko svake mjere zanesena:) Znam da ona geografski bas i ne pripada najdrazem Jugu, ali osjeca se u njoj, a meni to dovoljno da se raspametim <3
September 15, 2016
Maybe my mind was elsewhere (that’s generally the case these days) but this felt smudged like an old photograph, or an old movie cut up and rearranged out of sequence, until the last 50 pages, when everything started snapping into focus sharp enough to cut.
If this book is relatively obscure among TM’s work, I guess it’s the subject matter that some find hard to stomach; all these child brides and sociopaths and bodies frail, damaged, at risk, humiliating, only rarely a source of pleasure and delight….
I liked the most attractive and sympathetic character for me was a (black) teenage boy. They need all the support they can get from literature and anywhere else...
If this book is relatively obscure among TM’s work, I guess it’s the subject matter that some find hard to stomach; all these child brides and sociopaths and bodies frail, damaged, at risk, humiliating, only rarely a source of pleasure and delight….
I liked the most attractive and sympathetic character for me was a (black) teenage boy. They need all the support they can get from literature and anywhere else...
June 15, 2021
toni morrison yazsın, ben okuyayım. böyle usta bir yazar, hatta okuyor gibi değil de kulağımın dibinde bana mırıl mırıl anlatıyor gibi hissediyorum. çünkü karakterlerini müthiş doğal konuşturuyor, güzel konuşturuyor, anlatıcılarını da öyle.
unutulup gitmiş bir otel, otel sahiplerinden kalan unutulmuş iki yaşlı kadın, yaşadıkları ıssızlık, aralarındaki düşmanlık, bu eve ateş gibi düşen gencecik junior. ve tabii arada anlatıcı olarak bize katılan l'yi unutmayalım.
toni morrison her şeyi, tüm hikayeyi o kadar güzel bir biçimde açıyor ki. sona geldiğimizde iki kadının araya düşmanlık girmiş hikayelerini de junior'ın yaşama hırsını ve hayatta kalabilmek uğruna öğrendiklerini de, l'nin bu aile için yaptıklarını da o kadar iyi anlıyoruz ki...
düşman olabileceğimiz kimse yok, 11 yaşındaki torununun arkadaşıyla evlenen şerefsiz cosey'e bile kızamıyoruz. aynı l'nin dediği gibi "ona iyi kötü adam diyebilirsiniz, ya da kötü iyi adam, neyi baz aldığınıza bağlı - neyi mi, nedeni mi? ben ikisini karıştırmaktan yanayım."
tüm bu ana hikayenin arkasında bir sahil kasabasının 100 yıllık değişimi, siyahların konumları, 68 olayları, analar, babalar ve onların genetik ve travmatik mirasları, gençlerin beyin yakan libidoları var... morrison'ın anlatacakları biter mi?
(ve 68'de bir yeraltı örgütünde siyah bir kıza tecavüz eden bir beyaz yoldaşın erkekler tarafından korunup kollanması ve komünden atılmaması hikayesi ne benzer vah vah, hâlâ benzer...)
püren özgören'in müthiş türkçesiyle insanın her hücresine dair bir roman...
unutulup gitmiş bir otel, otel sahiplerinden kalan unutulmuş iki yaşlı kadın, yaşadıkları ıssızlık, aralarındaki düşmanlık, bu eve ateş gibi düşen gencecik junior. ve tabii arada anlatıcı olarak bize katılan l'yi unutmayalım.
toni morrison her şeyi, tüm hikayeyi o kadar güzel bir biçimde açıyor ki. sona geldiğimizde iki kadının araya düşmanlık girmiş hikayelerini de junior'ın yaşama hırsını ve hayatta kalabilmek uğruna öğrendiklerini de, l'nin bu aile için yaptıklarını da o kadar iyi anlıyoruz ki...
düşman olabileceğimiz kimse yok, 11 yaşındaki torununun arkadaşıyla evlenen şerefsiz cosey'e bile kızamıyoruz. aynı l'nin dediği gibi "ona iyi kötü adam diyebilirsiniz, ya da kötü iyi adam, neyi baz aldığınıza bağlı - neyi mi, nedeni mi? ben ikisini karıştırmaktan yanayım."
tüm bu ana hikayenin arkasında bir sahil kasabasının 100 yıllık değişimi, siyahların konumları, 68 olayları, analar, babalar ve onların genetik ve travmatik mirasları, gençlerin beyin yakan libidoları var... morrison'ın anlatacakları biter mi?
(ve 68'de bir yeraltı örgütünde siyah bir kıza tecavüz eden bir beyaz yoldaşın erkekler tarafından korunup kollanması ve komünden atılmaması hikayesi ne benzer vah vah, hâlâ benzer...)
püren özgören'in müthiş türkçesiyle insanın her hücresine dair bir roman...
June 24, 2020
For me, Love is in the second tier of Morrison novels along with Tar Baby, Paradise, and Sula. It is the story of a black seaside community and the lives of four women who gravitate around the owner of the local hotel. The narration is non-linear as per usual with Morrison and we learn the stories of the women from their own voices, stories of abuse and neglect and manipulation. I was happy that the two protagonists that are set at each other throats come together at the end to confront their differences. Despite the violence, there is a message of hope at the end:
Either she doesn't know about me or has forgiven me for my solution, because she doesn't mind at all if I sit a little ways off, listening. But once in a while, her voice is so full of longing for him, I can't help it. I want something back. Something just for me. So I join in. And hum.
(p. 202)
Either she doesn't know about me or has forgiven me for my solution, because she doesn't mind at all if I sit a little ways off, listening. But once in a while, her voice is so full of longing for him, I can't help it. I want something back. Something just for me. So I join in. And hum.
(p. 202)
December 9, 2025
Qué inteligencia pare crear los personajes mientras retrata la sociedad y la esencia humana.
Leerla es deleitarse aunque escribiera la lista de la compra.
Esta novelita concentra las mejores características de Toni Morrison. De lectura muy atrayente pese a una estructura compleja, va construyendo una historia intrincada, sofisticada, y emocionalmente impactante, muy intensa, que refleja la intimidad de cada familiar en su posición heredada, tanto respecto a la casa en sí o al ámbito más material, como sobre todo en el ámbito más emocional que se va forjando en el tiempo (lealtades, enemistades…), y todo ello en su contexto social.
La narración no es cronológica, va saltando entre personajes en momentos distintos y con varias voces, cada una con su perspectiva personal, y no es hasta el final cuando todo tiene sentido.
El lenguaje como siempre a mí me ha parecido maravilloso; de forma aparentemente fácil crea imágenes cotidianas con muchos simbolismos que potencian otros significados, y por eso consigue explorar mucho más que el entorno familiar, hace literatura de las emociones más profundas en cada tipo de personalidad y sus relaciones con los demás. Y lo hace de una forma tan bonita, con un estilo muy lírico y en un tono muy emotivo. Autora esencial.
Leerla es deleitarse aunque escribiera la lista de la compra.
Esta novelita concentra las mejores características de Toni Morrison. De lectura muy atrayente pese a una estructura compleja, va construyendo una historia intrincada, sofisticada, y emocionalmente impactante, muy intensa, que refleja la intimidad de cada familiar en su posición heredada, tanto respecto a la casa en sí o al ámbito más material, como sobre todo en el ámbito más emocional que se va forjando en el tiempo (lealtades, enemistades…), y todo ello en su contexto social.
La narración no es cronológica, va saltando entre personajes en momentos distintos y con varias voces, cada una con su perspectiva personal, y no es hasta el final cuando todo tiene sentido.
El lenguaje como siempre a mí me ha parecido maravilloso; de forma aparentemente fácil crea imágenes cotidianas con muchos simbolismos que potencian otros significados, y por eso consigue explorar mucho más que el entorno familiar, hace literatura de las emociones más profundas en cada tipo de personalidad y sus relaciones con los demás. Y lo hace de una forma tan bonita, con un estilo muy lírico y en un tono muy emotivo. Autora esencial.
November 10, 2019
Amor — O Bacalhau da Arte
Pintado, Recitado, Cantado, Declamado, Esculpido, Filmado, Romanceado... o Amor parece estar para a Arte, um pouco como o Bacalhau para a Cozinha Portuguesa.
Desta feita, a abordagem coube a Toni Morrison, que numa prosa poética e enigmática, concebeu quadros em tons de ódio, erotismo e obsessão, onde a História se combina com a ficção.
“Love” é mais uma obra que nos presenteia com o génio literário duma escritora recentemente perdida ❤️ 💗 ❤️
Pintado, Recitado, Cantado, Declamado, Esculpido, Filmado, Romanceado... o Amor parece estar para a Arte, um pouco como o Bacalhau para a Cozinha Portuguesa.
Desta feita, a abordagem coube a Toni Morrison, que numa prosa poética e enigmática, concebeu quadros em tons de ódio, erotismo e obsessão, onde a História se combina com a ficção.
“Love” é mais uma obra que nos presenteia com o génio literário duma escritora recentemente perdida ❤️ 💗 ❤️
March 11, 2020
Toni Morrison, in my opinion, is the James Joyce of the second half of the 20th century and the beginning of the 21th century. She is part of that rarefied stratosphere of artists that has risen way above the clouds and shines like one of the brightest stars in the universe.
Ms. Morrison's "Love," published in 2005 is another brilliant and mesmerizing work of artistry that left this reader mystified and in total awe. Her use of words, her development of characters and story, and the composition of the entire novel is simply amazing and in the end heart-wrenching.
The novel follows three generations of black women living in a once thriving beach town that slowly dissolves into a near ghost town and it is through these women and their select memories of Bill Cosey, the flamboyant, successful hotel and club owner, that we relive the glory days of this once thriving resort town and its slow and inevitable decline. His grip on their lives extends way beyond the grave and revelations about his character and behavior is both horrifying and complex, and in many ways awe inspiring, set against a background of racial prejudice, poverty, injustice and the power of money.
The ocean is a source of life, and at the same time a source of death. Money provides, and at the same time it takes away the most precious of all gifts... Family and friends and the comfort of each others love.
Simply an amazing piece of art.
Ms. Morrison's "Love," published in 2005 is another brilliant and mesmerizing work of artistry that left this reader mystified and in total awe. Her use of words, her development of characters and story, and the composition of the entire novel is simply amazing and in the end heart-wrenching.
The novel follows three generations of black women living in a once thriving beach town that slowly dissolves into a near ghost town and it is through these women and their select memories of Bill Cosey, the flamboyant, successful hotel and club owner, that we relive the glory days of this once thriving resort town and its slow and inevitable decline. His grip on their lives extends way beyond the grave and revelations about his character and behavior is both horrifying and complex, and in many ways awe inspiring, set against a background of racial prejudice, poverty, injustice and the power of money.
The ocean is a source of life, and at the same time a source of death. Money provides, and at the same time it takes away the most precious of all gifts... Family and friends and the comfort of each others love.
Simply an amazing piece of art.
April 11, 2010
?? I'm not too sure I know what I read. This book is about 200 pages and what I thought I could finish in a couple of days, if not one, ended up taking the better part of 3 to 4 weeks.
Love, if I understand correctly, is about a perverted wealthy old man who ends up marrying an 11 year old girl and eventually has this child take on the business of a running a resort. Much to the dismay of his actual blood family. Thankfully, the author didn't go into detail regarding the relationship between the old man and the 11 year old or I would not have finished reading the book.
Well, the old man dies and leaves the resort to an unnamed girl, whom each woman in his life assumes it's themselves who is the benefactor. Thus the plot ensues.
What I found quite difficult with Love is that it read much like a riddle and I often found myself re-reading paragraphs, if not whole chapters, trying to figure out who the author is talking about, where it fits in the story and why. Very frustrating.
However, now that the story is done, it's actually an interesting story. I just wish it was easier to read.
Love, if I understand correctly, is about a perverted wealthy old man who ends up marrying an 11 year old girl and eventually has this child take on the business of a running a resort. Much to the dismay of his actual blood family. Thankfully, the author didn't go into detail regarding the relationship between the old man and the 11 year old or I would not have finished reading the book.
Well, the old man dies and leaves the resort to an unnamed girl, whom each woman in his life assumes it's themselves who is the benefactor. Thus the plot ensues.
What I found quite difficult with Love is that it read much like a riddle and I often found myself re-reading paragraphs, if not whole chapters, trying to figure out who the author is talking about, where it fits in the story and why. Very frustrating.
However, now that the story is done, it's actually an interesting story. I just wish it was easier to read.
July 12, 2016
I've been thinking about what to write for a month since I finished reading Love, waiting to be clear about what I want to say.
That moment may never come, so now I'm launching in and will come back to add more later.
It wasn't until the end of the book that I began to understand the title in all its complexity.
It feels as though Morrison is exploring ways in which love may be warped, corrupted, twisted; here ending mostly in hurt and hatred. The only exception to this is the tiny family unit of grandparents and grandson Romen, who are kind and decent people, offered perhaps as a small pool of light in what is a very dark tale. Interesting that I should need to use 'light' and dark' here as descriptors, tied as they are so often to skin colour, race and racism.
The emotional territory of this book was so terrible that I struggled to read it, kept having to put it down and go away. It was a Book Club read, so I knew I needed to keep going, and I wanted to understand more about why Morrison had written it. A quick bit of research in the University Library catalogue took me to a string of titles like these: (and here I will now have to find my notes)
That moment may never come, so now I'm launching in and will come back to add more later.
It wasn't until the end of the book that I began to understand the title in all its complexity.
It feels as though Morrison is exploring ways in which love may be warped, corrupted, twisted; here ending mostly in hurt and hatred. The only exception to this is the tiny family unit of grandparents and grandson Romen, who are kind and decent people, offered perhaps as a small pool of light in what is a very dark tale. Interesting that I should need to use 'light' and dark' here as descriptors, tied as they are so often to skin colour, race and racism.
The emotional territory of this book was so terrible that I struggled to read it, kept having to put it down and go away. It was a Book Club read, so I knew I needed to keep going, and I wanted to understand more about why Morrison had written it. A quick bit of research in the University Library catalogue took me to a string of titles like these: (and here I will now have to find my notes)
December 18, 2020
Two ghosts and a pedophile as central characters. Nope. Not for me.
November 21, 2024
Really struggled to get into this. I read the first half in tiny sections which didn't help. Amazing depiction of such complex characters. Really loved the last 1/3 of the book but I do think reading this a second time would be a better experience than the first.
September 3, 2024
3.5 stars
I read this book as part of a project inspired by, and meant to be done together with, a friend. Which is basically to read the Toni Morrison novels we haven’t read yet by the end of this year, and which for me included this, A Mercy, and Home, and I’ve decided to read them in chronological order (which is also the order I’ve listed them here.) Love is in ways one of Morrison’s best books, and in ways one of her most imperfect. It reminds me of Sula in the exploration of friendship, and Tar Baby in the exploration of relationships between older and younger generations.
Heed and Christine were playmates, the best of friends, and their relationship is ruined by the abusive action of an old wealthy man who also happens to be Christine’s grandfather: Bill Cosey. Bill Cosey, who looms throughout the novel, mainly in the thoughts of other characters, is the symbol of soci0-economic upward mobility for Black American people just before the civil rights era. He builds himself a resort where music and entertainment draws Black clients who can’t find it in white places because of segregation, and this success enables him to mingle with the white powerful men of the town including the sheriff. He has the admiration of the Black people of the town for his wealth and social standing, and the admiration of the women in his life for the paterfamilias role they envision in him. Both of these kinds of admiration are unearned, and dangerous in the way that they insulate powerful figures from criticism or facing consequences, and often enable admirers of these powerful figures to place blame on their victims instead, as it happened with this tale. In ways this book explores the meaning of material possession, especially for those who had little hope for it due to the systemic conditions of their circumstances. The Bill Cosey Hotel and Resort was successful because it was a glamorous place for Black people during segregation, de-segregation threatens, and in the end contributes to the end of its financial success. May, Christine’s mother and Bill Cosey’s daughter, is frightened that Black militants will take away their property, and the women left after Bill Cosey’s death, mainly Christine and Heed, fight for the property as well. Material wealth, or the lack of it, and the way it affects relations is one of the clear themes in this book.
There are several interesting things she’s doing with her writing here, which is normal for a Morrison novel, she can take on several themes and do it wonderfully without disturbing narrative, but which I think the interesting style of the novel ends up obscuring in a way here. The interesting style in question is an unfurling narrative where details of the events central to the story are told slowly as the story progresses and the kernel is revealed clearly and completely at the very end. It’s like watching a beautiful landscape enshrouded by fog at dawn before sunrise, and slowly seeing the vapour dissolve in time and the light filtering in and giving definition and shape to the landscape’s features. That’s what it felt like reading this book, it took some time to finally see the landscape in its entirety, and I’m just not quite sure it matches up to the other landscapes given by this excellent writer, which is perhaps unfair to this book. But all in all I enjoyed it and recommend it.
I read this book as part of a project inspired by, and meant to be done together with, a friend. Which is basically to read the Toni Morrison novels we haven’t read yet by the end of this year, and which for me included this, A Mercy, and Home, and I’ve decided to read them in chronological order (which is also the order I’ve listed them here.) Love is in ways one of Morrison’s best books, and in ways one of her most imperfect. It reminds me of Sula in the exploration of friendship, and Tar Baby in the exploration of relationships between older and younger generations.
Heed and Christine were playmates, the best of friends, and their relationship is ruined by the abusive action of an old wealthy man who also happens to be Christine’s grandfather: Bill Cosey. Bill Cosey, who looms throughout the novel, mainly in the thoughts of other characters, is the symbol of soci0-economic upward mobility for Black American people just before the civil rights era. He builds himself a resort where music and entertainment draws Black clients who can’t find it in white places because of segregation, and this success enables him to mingle with the white powerful men of the town including the sheriff. He has the admiration of the Black people of the town for his wealth and social standing, and the admiration of the women in his life for the paterfamilias role they envision in him. Both of these kinds of admiration are unearned, and dangerous in the way that they insulate powerful figures from criticism or facing consequences, and often enable admirers of these powerful figures to place blame on their victims instead, as it happened with this tale. In ways this book explores the meaning of material possession, especially for those who had little hope for it due to the systemic conditions of their circumstances. The Bill Cosey Hotel and Resort was successful because it was a glamorous place for Black people during segregation, de-segregation threatens, and in the end contributes to the end of its financial success. May, Christine’s mother and Bill Cosey’s daughter, is frightened that Black militants will take away their property, and the women left after Bill Cosey’s death, mainly Christine and Heed, fight for the property as well. Material wealth, or the lack of it, and the way it affects relations is one of the clear themes in this book.
There are several interesting things she’s doing with her writing here, which is normal for a Morrison novel, she can take on several themes and do it wonderfully without disturbing narrative, but which I think the interesting style of the novel ends up obscuring in a way here. The interesting style in question is an unfurling narrative where details of the events central to the story are told slowly as the story progresses and the kernel is revealed clearly and completely at the very end. It’s like watching a beautiful landscape enshrouded by fog at dawn before sunrise, and slowly seeing the vapour dissolve in time and the light filtering in and giving definition and shape to the landscape’s features. That’s what it felt like reading this book, it took some time to finally see the landscape in its entirety, and I’m just not quite sure it matches up to the other landscapes given by this excellent writer, which is perhaps unfair to this book. But all in all I enjoyed it and recommend it.
April 20, 2023
Resitatif'ini okuyup Toni Morrison'a vurulunca bu ilişkiyi hızla derinleştirmeye karar verdim ve kitaplığımda bekleyen Aşk'ı okudum. Kendisiyle nasıl bu kadar geç tanıştım ben de bilmiyorum; bazı şeylerin zamanı oluyor herhalde.
Neyse. Aşk, Morrison külliyatının en öne çıkan eserlerinden biri değil diye biliyordum, buna rağmen epey güçlü bir kitap kendisi. Yazar Resitatif'teki gibi müphem bir yerden yazıyor ve okurun dikkatini üzerinde istiyor, aksi halde hikâyeden kopmak mümkün. Çünkü katman katman açıyor anlatısını Morrison, okudukça öykünün sırrına vakıf oluyorsunuz ve yazar sırrı fâş ettikçe yüreğinizi dağlamaktan da imtina etmiyor.
Öykünün gizemini bozmamak adına kitaptaki büyük gizeme değinmeyeceğim ama ah, çok üzücü bir hikaye saklı hakikaten bu sayfalarda. Hayatları farklı biçimlerde ellerinden alınmış, birbirlerine türlü sebeplerle öfke duyan bazı kadınların öyküsünü okuyoruz. Kimi dinliyorsak öbürüne öfkeleniyoruz başta ancak okudukça aslında hepsinin kurban olduğunu anlıyoruz. Ataerkinin, bozuk düzenin, geleneklerin, sistemin, ırkçılığın, toplumun her yerine sinmiş ön yargıların, sosyal adaletsizliğin, eşitsizliğin kurbanı; yaşayan hayaletlere dönmüş öfkeli, mutsuz kadınlar.
Birbirini kaybetmiş iki küçük kızın dostluğuna dair bir hikaye gibi gözükse de, aslında bu kadınların kendilerini kaybetmiş olduğunu anlıyor insan okudukça. Ve Morrison tabii ki anlatısını kurgularken 50 yıla yayılmış bu öykünün arkasına Amerika'nın günahlarını, siyahlara karşı yürütülen ırkçı propagandaların etkilerini, toplumdaki çatışan dinamiklerinin bu insanların hayatlarındaki somut etkilerini de yerleştirmeyi ihmal etmiyor.
Öykünün ana mekanı olan ve artık terk edilmiş durumdaki otel öyle iyi anlatılmış ki, kitabı iyice atmosferik hale getiriyor o mekan. Ara ara sözü alan otelin eski aşçısı L.'nin ağzından yazılmış hüzünlü, poetik bölümler de ayrıca çok lezzetliydi.
Yukarıda günah dedim - günahlardan örülü bir roman bu hakikaten. Cinayet, tecavüz, ırkçılık, rüşvet, hırsızlık ve niceleri. Bu yönüyle oldukça karanlık, bir yandan da insanın içine nüfuz eden bir dostluk ve varolmaya çabalama hikâyesi.
Çok sevdim. Morrison yolculuğum kesinlikle sürecek.
Neyse. Aşk, Morrison külliyatının en öne çıkan eserlerinden biri değil diye biliyordum, buna rağmen epey güçlü bir kitap kendisi. Yazar Resitatif'teki gibi müphem bir yerden yazıyor ve okurun dikkatini üzerinde istiyor, aksi halde hikâyeden kopmak mümkün. Çünkü katman katman açıyor anlatısını Morrison, okudukça öykünün sırrına vakıf oluyorsunuz ve yazar sırrı fâş ettikçe yüreğinizi dağlamaktan da imtina etmiyor.
Öykünün gizemini bozmamak adına kitaptaki büyük gizeme değinmeyeceğim ama ah, çok üzücü bir hikaye saklı hakikaten bu sayfalarda. Hayatları farklı biçimlerde ellerinden alınmış, birbirlerine türlü sebeplerle öfke duyan bazı kadınların öyküsünü okuyoruz. Kimi dinliyorsak öbürüne öfkeleniyoruz başta ancak okudukça aslında hepsinin kurban olduğunu anlıyoruz. Ataerkinin, bozuk düzenin, geleneklerin, sistemin, ırkçılığın, toplumun her yerine sinmiş ön yargıların, sosyal adaletsizliğin, eşitsizliğin kurbanı; yaşayan hayaletlere dönmüş öfkeli, mutsuz kadınlar.
Birbirini kaybetmiş iki küçük kızın dostluğuna dair bir hikaye gibi gözükse de, aslında bu kadınların kendilerini kaybetmiş olduğunu anlıyor insan okudukça. Ve Morrison tabii ki anlatısını kurgularken 50 yıla yayılmış bu öykünün arkasına Amerika'nın günahlarını, siyahlara karşı yürütülen ırkçı propagandaların etkilerini, toplumdaki çatışan dinamiklerinin bu insanların hayatlarındaki somut etkilerini de yerleştirmeyi ihmal etmiyor.
Öykünün ana mekanı olan ve artık terk edilmiş durumdaki otel öyle iyi anlatılmış ki, kitabı iyice atmosferik hale getiriyor o mekan. Ara ara sözü alan otelin eski aşçısı L.'nin ağzından yazılmış hüzünlü, poetik bölümler de ayrıca çok lezzetliydi.
Yukarıda günah dedim - günahlardan örülü bir roman bu hakikaten. Cinayet, tecavüz, ırkçılık, rüşvet, hırsızlık ve niceleri. Bu yönüyle oldukça karanlık, bir yandan da insanın içine nüfuz eden bir dostluk ve varolmaya çabalama hikâyesi.
Çok sevdim. Morrison yolculuğum kesinlikle sürecek.
February 13, 2024
For the past few years, I have been rereading Toni Morrison’s novels. She wrote 12 novels and Love was the eighth one. Each reread has brought a deeper understanding of her meanings and of the complexity of life and love. I first read Love in 2004, the year after it was published. I have lived through a lot of permutations of love in the last twenty years. As we all know, rereading unveils different aspects of books and life because we are both the same and changed as the decades go by.
My reading log from 2004 tells me I loved Love. I got that two women who were close friends as children were forced apart by certain adults which caused their love for each other to become hate.
In a fashion which has become normal today but was less so two decades ago, the story jumps about between the present and the past as it gradually reveals the events that drove these females apart and then brought them back together. I said in my remarks that it was probably her way of telling the story that brought Ms Morrison so many lousy reviews.
As I age, I find that my understanding of my life and my past changes regularly as I write about it and as I read/learn more and more about life and the world. Some days I don’t know if I am getting more clarity or more confusion. Life is messy. Kids have virtually no knowledge about why the adults around them do what they do and very much less control over events.
The novel makes that clear and shows the tragedy of it all. It is a theme in Morrison’s writing. She combines the racism, the dubious effects of integration on Black lives, economic changes, political disputes, to present a scene that is rich in complexity.
Bill Cosey was a successful and wealthy owner of a famous hotel and resort for the colored people of the East Coast, with the best food, the best music, the best accommodations. He was also crazy for women of all types and slightly crooked with money. When he dies, the two women of this story are left to fight over a large inheritance.
Having written this much, I am suddenly struck by how much these conflicts sound like white people conflicts. Is that partly what Toni Morrison is getting at? It could be. Human beings, no matter the color of their skin or their places in society, are all caught in the complications of life. If we could truly understand this, we might have a different world.
In any case, we love at our own risk. Every time!
My reading log from 2004 tells me I loved Love. I got that two women who were close friends as children were forced apart by certain adults which caused their love for each other to become hate.
In a fashion which has become normal today but was less so two decades ago, the story jumps about between the present and the past as it gradually reveals the events that drove these females apart and then brought them back together. I said in my remarks that it was probably her way of telling the story that brought Ms Morrison so many lousy reviews.
As I age, I find that my understanding of my life and my past changes regularly as I write about it and as I read/learn more and more about life and the world. Some days I don’t know if I am getting more clarity or more confusion. Life is messy. Kids have virtually no knowledge about why the adults around them do what they do and very much less control over events.
The novel makes that clear and shows the tragedy of it all. It is a theme in Morrison’s writing. She combines the racism, the dubious effects of integration on Black lives, economic changes, political disputes, to present a scene that is rich in complexity.
Bill Cosey was a successful and wealthy owner of a famous hotel and resort for the colored people of the East Coast, with the best food, the best music, the best accommodations. He was also crazy for women of all types and slightly crooked with money. When he dies, the two women of this story are left to fight over a large inheritance.
Having written this much, I am suddenly struck by how much these conflicts sound like white people conflicts. Is that partly what Toni Morrison is getting at? It could be. Human beings, no matter the color of their skin or their places in society, are all caught in the complications of life. If we could truly understand this, we might have a different world.
In any case, we love at our own risk. Every time!
December 9, 2020
“Nowadays silence is looked on as odd and most of my race has forgotten the beauty of meaning much by saying little. Now tongues work all day by themselves with no help from the mind.”
“Hate does that. Burns off everything but itself, so whatever your grievance is, your face looks just like your enemy's.”
“Like friendship, hatred needed more than physical intimacy; it wanted creativity and hard work to sustain itself.”
“Hate does that. Burns off everything but itself, so whatever your grievance is, your face looks just like your enemy's.”
“Like friendship, hatred needed more than physical intimacy; it wanted creativity and hard work to sustain itself.”
July 26, 2021
I'm not sure how to rate this book. Its well written and very engaging but not enjoyable at all. An old man married an 11 year old it's just so wrong and difficult to read on its own. It took me a long time to finish this book because I had a difficulty wanting to pick it back up even though its a rather short book.
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