Sula by Toni Morrison is not a book that I would choose for myself. Let’s be honest. We all have genres that we are more likely to pick up than others. This book showed up in a box on my doorstep.
It’s very hard to say no to a book that just shows up for you.
“Two girls who grow up to become women. Two friends who become something worse than enemies.” That’s what the back of the book shares about the story.
It’s a relational story, and as a woman, I’m more about relationships than plot. Our lives have a natural ebb and flow that can’t be denied but often is interrupted by circumstance (so is that plot?).
I’ve never read anything by Toni Morrison before, but I’ve heard her praises sung for years. It seems a bit wrong that it’s taken me so long to pick up her book. My Excuse: I like fluffy entertainment. The sweet cotton candy that melts in your mouth without a sting.
Toni Morrison ain’t no fluff writer. Uh-no. Never.
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Her stories come with jerk sauce laced heavily through the story. The burn starts slow but ends in a raging fire. It’s uncomfortable, but you go back for another bite. Because you have to.
I think the true magic in Toni Morrison’s writing is how she seamlessly moves from active observer of the town to active teller of opinions. She doesn’t preach, but she does tell you. And yet, there’s much room for the reader to come to his or her own conclusions based on Toni Morrison’s portrayal of life.
Toni reminds me of my friend Oscar. Toni Morrison and Oscar Wilde have this uncanny ability to study humanity and society in front of their reader. And somehow, they illuminate ragged truth about the human condition without writing it in black and white. Their thoughts are on the page, but it’s not spelled out.
I admire authors who can do that.
And I’m thinking I’ll be reading Toni Morrison’s Beloved next. Jazz intrigued me, but it just might be too dark right now.
On a scale of cotton candy to Brussel sprouts, Sula by Toni Morrison must be grits with butter. It’s a story that sticks with you.
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