Paradise made me work hard. But Toni Morrison wrote two of my favorite books, and she is one of those authors I trust implicitly so I believed it would be worth it, and it was. This is one of those books that you feel completely submerged in, wading through the details, but when you are able to reflect, you realize it will stay with you long after you’re finished reading.

2019- I read this to see if I still loved Morrison. I haven’t read her since college. She’s brilliant. Her story telling is amazing and fun to read, even though the stories are hard. She tells the truth and shows what life is like for people that are different from me. It’s eye opening. I was a little confused about her purpose in writing this, though. The intro said she was showing how there was racism even between people with dark skin and how there was a time in history where dark skinned people created communities for those of their color, but only if they were the right shade of that color. However the story was more than that. So many things to think about and explore.

The story opens in 1976. A group of men is converging upon the Convent, a repurposed mansion at the edge of the town of Ruby, Oklahoma. They intend harm to the women living there. The narrative then shifts to follow various unrelated characters. These individual stories, when combined, provide a unified whole. We learn of the founding of the all-black town, and the building of the Oven, a central place to prepare food (which serves as an important symbol). We learn the backstories of the women in the Convent, how they arrived, and why they stayed. The patriarchy blames these “wayward” women for misleading town’s younger generation.

Though it is technically part of a trilogy, including Beloved and Jazz, it can be read as a standalone. A short summary can hardly do it justice. As in many of Morrison’s novels, it explores themes related to women’s issues, racial conflict, social structure, and psychology. It comments on the gender discrimination that occurred within black communities during the Civil Rights Movement. There are many interwoven threads, critiques of American history, and spiritual references. It is well-crafted, complex, and thought-provoking.

Od TM som prečítala niekoľko kníh a už som si hovorila, že ma ničím neprekvapí a potom prišiel Ráj. Kniha vyznieva prudko feministicky, aj keď sa TM proti tomu ohradila. Príbeh o tom, že náš raj môže byť pre druhého peklo. Príbeh o konvente, ktorí si založili "padlé" ženy a žili v ňom podľa svojich pravidiel a poskytovali útočisko všetkým potrebným. Konvent, ktorý vzbudzoval v druhých strach z nepoznaného, podozrievanie, vytváranie konšpiračných teórií a v konečnom dôsledku i násilie.

Why is it that so often in life the very thing you’re trying to avoid becomes you? Why do the oppressed become the oppressor? Why do the abused become the abuser? Why do those who demand openness and equality become insular and elitist? Why does the love that we strive so hard to obtain turn into a protective curse when we attempt to contain it vs. allowing its empathy and compassion to extend to all? These open-ended questions are only the tip of the iceberg in Toni Morrison’s "Paradise". It is an incredible novel that incorporates many complex themes, mind shattering symbolisms and an obvious personal investment of experience, echoes of generations gone by and silent whisperings from history that we should heed and never repeat.

The idea that a group from any oppressed race can run from their problems, form their own society, and live by their own rules contains within it the basic dangers inherent in utopian thinking. So often, it is not applicable or realistic according to the complexities of human nature. In fact, the idea that this utopia can be acquired affirms the thesis of the oppressed becoming the oppressor. We can see this in modern society with the way the Israelis treat the Palestinians. Or the way that America has chosen to repress and exploit the Third World and the various racial/class/homosexual/religious/political groups at home. Here we have victims creating new victims…and the cycle continues. The real question is, how do we break this cycle? It is only through immense courage, love, empathy, compassion and strength that we step up and say no. I forgive you for what has happened to me and to make that forgiveness concrete in my own life, I will strive to not become bitter and will do my best to not consciously or unconsciously pass it on to others.

The concept of Paradise in Toni Morrison’s novel is akin to looking into an endless sea of mirrors. It reflects back upon you over and over and over. Its meanings can go on to infinity, and those religious representations in the novel imply that Paradise can be infinity itself.

First we have the town of Ruby. It is an honest, and at first, noble idea of escaping exploitation. Ah, but here we have our first red flag. These African Americans are descendants of a group that has set out from the post-Reconstruction era in Louisiana and Mississippi to establish their own community void of whites, or for that matter, any inter-racial mixing. So the very idea of exclusion is there from the start. This is what gets us into trouble. While it is obvious that the group believed they were simply avoiding intense suffering, there was a deep dark seed of hate that had been planted by the white man. Now lest anyone come down on me, I am not saying that this hatred has no reason for being there. It would be quite impossible to be treated as chattel for centuries and not carry animosity. I am only pointing out that this is one of the great tests of life, and applies to any oppressed group. How do you handle this situation within a history of racism experienced? How do the Jews react to the Holocaust? How do the Palestinians react to Jewish oppression?

Unfortunately, the citizens of Ruby handled it by attempting to keep their society untouched by “contamination”. Contamination represents anything outside of their direct ancestors. This incorporates skin color (even as compared to other African Americans), an unspoken but expected moral code, a hierarchy in society that revolves around the founding families, and the expectation of keeping the generations continuous through marriage within the community. It revolves around purity in religion, in dress, in being a productive upstanding member of society, and, consequently, becomes patriarchal, authoritarian, repressive and a power struggle.

This is where we can introduce the Convent to the story. The book does it from the very beginning, but that beginning is actually the end of the story. Or is it the beginning of another beginning? Is the symbolism involved in how the women of the Convent treated the attacking men of the town only the beginning of another cycle of repression? Or, to put it more clearly, are the women plotting revenge at the end of the story that will then turn them into the oppressors? Again, they would certainly be justified. However, what will it accomplish? Only more and more violence.

The Convent is located about 17 miles outside of the town of Ruby. It was originally the project of a white collar criminal, but was taken over by a group of nuns who became yet another symbol of oppression. The patriarchy that bleeds through the pages of "Paradise" is evident in the treatment of women by the Catholic Church. The nuns of the Church have been programmed with this repression to such a degree that they in turn act as the patriarchs in this very convent. It is an important point to understand, because of the way that Connie is affected. She believes that she needs this authority to survive. Connie is the perfect example of the woman who has been pushed down by patriarchy and authoritarianism to the point where her thoughts are not her own. She has not learned the process of discovering her own individuality, but she will and does.

A quick side note, as I’ve mentioned it before in my writing reviews, but Morrison doesn’t miss a beat with touching on what I refer to as “the benefactor syndrome” of missionary work. The convent was set up to take the message of Christ to the Native Americans and “wean them away from anything that was enjoyable in their lives”. It’s the idea that we have it right; you are the sinner, so conform to our way of thinking.

But the Convent is to go through another evolution centralized around Connie. After Mary Magna passes away, Connie is all alone. Mary Magna was the woman who rescued Connie from the poverty of being an orphan, and she was who Connie lived for. Connie never thought of the crucial process of discovery while Mary Magna was around, because she never felt the need. She never had to think for herself as long as she had the convent and the sisters. She didn’t realize that she was a prisoner. It was only the ability to “step inside” that was introduced to her by Lone that not only symbolized empathy, but allowed her to realize the importance of herself as her own person. Yes, this seeming display of supernatural power from Lone is symbolic of the power of Connie and the rest of the women she takes under her wing to realize their own potential.

These free thinking women are precisely what a threat to the utopia of Ruby is. Women are a threat to this society because they stand in the way of “progress”. Female babies can not carry on the “holy” family names of the town. Female midwifes and child bearers stand between the successful births of healthy baby boys. To the men of the town, this is everything. Without the ability to continue the utopia, the dream dies. Any woman who is able to amass too much power is a clear threat to their authoritarianism. What if she doesn’t want to bear children? What if the 8-rock women gain so much power that they refuse to marry the men of the community, and instead go outside and inter-marry with others?

All their dreams, all their fears, their purpose for living, the very idea of the town of Ruby, the outside threats, the unsubmissive women, the impurity, the non-conformity, the strangeness of the other is all wrapped up in the women who have taken residence with Connie in the Convent. This is why they must be stopped. This is where the idea of purity and a way of life become more important than love and acceptance. This is the culmination of our narrative. The formerly oppressed (the citizens of Ruby) have made the transformation into the oppressors. The woman has become the victim.

It is perhaps no mistake that our story revolves around the Civil Rights era. For it is in this very movement that the fight for equality in the black community became patriarchal. The idea of freedom for the race did not incorporate the equally important drive for women’s rights. That fight would have to come later. It is symbolic and central to Morrison’s novel that the women are left out of “purifying” the town of Ruby. What the men have to say, and how they plan to execute their actions is no place for a woman’s involvement. In this, we can see the warning from Morrison that any fight for equality can become repressive in and of itself.

This idea of “Paradise” therefore involves many different elements to Morrison and our characters. Freedom is one common thread. Self-determination is another. The ability to escape is a third. However, what many of our characters struggle to grasp is the all-consuming love that is so important for Paradise to become a reality. Through the lens of love, everything becomes clear. One’s vision of a Higher Power (yet anther “Paradise” theme) is all about how love is incorporated. Without love our world falls apart. Love and its corollary, equality, is about embracing the differences we see in the other. This can not be accomplished by a dogmatic adherence to principle, purity or structure. It is not done by taking sides. It is searching for the common ground that makes us all human.

In the end, the road to Paradise is narrow. However, it is not a narrow experience or way of thinking. It is simple yet complex much like Morrison’s novel. Love is never easy, but in the end it is all we have. Love is meaning, our very existence, the essence of what we describe as “God”, and the only way to Paradise.

it always takes me 20-30 pages to get in to any Morrison book, but when it all clicks it REALLY all clicks. truly such an astounding writer, I am in awe

I picked this up after Morrison's recent passing—it seemed appropriate to bid her farewell in my own way by finishing her Dantesque trilogy: After n  Belovedn's Hell and n  Jazzn's Purgatory, we reach the conclusion in Paradise. Taking place in Ruby, a self-reliant, neighborly, all-black farming community in Oklahoma, you might quickly draw the conclusion that the title refers to the town itself... but if you're familiar with Morrison's work, you should know better than to to take the title at face value. Alas, paradise is not easily attained. If you were holding out hope anyway, the opening paragraph will quickly dash it:

n  "They shoot the white girl first. With the rest they can take their time. No need to hurry out here. They are seventeen miles from a town which has ninety miles between it and any other. Hiding places will be plentiful in the Convent, but there is time and the day has just begun. They are nine, over twice the number of the women they are obliged to stampede or kill and they have the paraphernalia for either requirement: Rope, a palm leaf cross, handcuffs, mace, and sunglasses, along with clean, handsome guns."n

As we soon find out, beneath the pious surface, the isolated community is struggling with old feuds, the clashing of generations, and the infiltration of political brewing following the Civil Rights Movement and MLK's assassination. With peace thus disturbed, a scapegoat must be found to restore it, and the readily available one is an abandoned mansion outside of town—a haven for women who've experienced hardships and need to get away from the world for a while, or forever (so maybe the titular paradise doesn't refer to what the town of Ruby was supposed to be, but what the Convent became for these women?). It's currently occupied by four unconventional and independent women, which makes them the perfect target of patriarchal blame (and aggression). And so the men of Ruby take up arms to cleanse the town of these heifers, and bring back their peaceable kingdom.

I don't know if all of Morrison's fiction is like this or whether this is a stylistic choice for this "trilogy" (the stories aren't connected at all, they are more of an exploration of the African American experience after the trauma of slavery), but I love the way she constructs her novels—the narrative is never linear, but painstakingly built from all angles and perspectives, circling back to the same events over and over, fleshing them out and giving them context. It's like looking at gorgeous little mosaic pieces in turn, appreciating their respective beauty... and then stepping back and suddenly seeing the larger picture they make up when considered together. All of this, with a dash of magical realism on top, which often comes out a bit of left field and feels all the more wondrous because of it. The women living at the Convent are the centerpieces of the novel, and their lives and relationships are laid down so intimately, they feel real enough to touch. Real enough to love.

n  "Love is divine only and difficult always. If you think it is easy you are a fool. If you think it is natural you are blind. (...) You do not deserve love regardless of the suffering you have endured. You do not deserve love because somebody did you wrong. You do not deserve love just because you want it. You can only earn—by practice and careful contemplations—the right to express it and you have to learn how to accept it."n

I can appreciate the absolute mastery with which she weaves her stories, but am not ashamed to admit that while I loved this novel just as much as (if not more than) Beloved, it was harder to follow, not least because of the huge cast of characters and shifting perspectives, and I'm certain that I'll glean more from it upon re-reading it in the future. Morrison's work isn't light reading; it's not something to simply pass the time. It's a jagged, harsh, often ugly and brutal truth rendered in rich, beautiful words, and it commands your complete attention. I am not a believer, but Morrison makes me wish I was; there is a saintliness about her work, like you're being allowed to catch a glimpse of something Divine, and because of this, I find that the words to describe her stories always flee from me when I try to set them down.

—————

My other reviews of Morrison's Dantesque trilogy:

01: Beloved · ★★★★★
02: Jazz · ★★★★
03: Paradise · ★★★★★

Basta, mi arrendo. Troppi personaggi che entrano in scena senza introduzione; troppi fatti accennati senza venire debitamente sviluppati; troppi riferimenti storici (principalmente riguardanti la comunità di colore) che richiederebbero una conoscenza della storia americana che io purtroppo non possiedo.
Peccato, perché la scrittura è sontuosa, ma questa indubbiamente non è una lettura estiva e richiederebbe un lavoro di applicazione e documentazione che al momento non mi sento di intraprendere.
Riprenderò il romanzo in un periodo più opportuno.
Forse.

How do you read sentences like this and just keep going?

p. 89: "The night sky, like a handsome lid, held the perfume (of flowers) down, saving it, intensifying it, refusing it the slightest breeze on which to escape."

p. 96: "The sky was brilliant with stars that dwarfed the crescent moon, turning it into a shed feather."

Toni Morrison expands the possibilities of the English language, at the same time as she tells a helluva good story. This is a battle between wanting to turn the page and see what happens next and wanting to stop and read magical sentences over and over again. I also wasn't quite sure I was worthy to hold such beauty in my hands, or to read it; maybe I should apply for permission somewhere in Literary Heaven?

This not only goes straight to the Pantheon, it makes me think there may need to be a new category: Heavenly Pantheon.

But then it was scary, and then sad, and I put it aside for a few months and couldn't finish, and when I came back I had lost track of the large cast of characters. Really should have pushed on and finished it the first time!

I swear, it's the most fulfilling when you read an author and you have ambiguous feelings towards them and their writing. But being an unbiased, fair, desperately enthusiastic reader; you come back to give it a second try and it will be with that second book that you make your definitive judgement towards the author — either you like them or don't. You respect their writing and just can't get down with it or you think their writing is crap.

I thought I didn't like Morrison. I respected her as I could judge from the first book I read by her that she knew what she was talking about. And as far as I could smell, there was no propaganda about her writing in which she wrote for personal gain, not to educate about Afro-American life (I think that claim about another African-American writer and it unsettles me greatly because the writing is good and it sucks to think the intention isn't as well).

But with Morrison's writing, I wasn't sure I was gaining much information or insight into the past. I thought she hid too much of it behind a fantastic plot; more magic than reality.

This second and last time proved to the second and best and proved it definitely won't be the last.

While I really did like and appreciate Beloved — the focus on family and the description of fear turned to desperate measures — I could not really get into the vignettes that depicted the slave life. I didn't discount it... let's just say I felt I could read about it somewhere else and get a stronger bullet-through-the-heart feeling that depictions of slavery leave you with.

I got such a stronger picture of life through Paradise. I have no idea if it was because there were more references to things I had more available knowledge on (such as the civil rights era). But either way I got several lessons out of this book. I'll list them off so this reverie can be over:

1) Not all self-righteous people with a cause are doing it for the right reasons

2) Some African-Americans felt just as privileged and pompous as whites

3) Dark-skinned African-Americans felt hatred towards lighter skinned ones, although this is misdirected anger

4) Fear of integration will only cause unhappiness

5) Don't judge a woman without knowing what in her past caused her to act/behave in xyz way, no matter how vulgar you may find it

6) Don't judge a book by a well-written synopsis or by the first chapter, no matter how confused you are

Of that last lesson: my thoughts on this novel evolved constantly. The first chapter, which begins in medias res, not only confused me — it made me think "this won't be good". Even now after finishing it and loving it and getting a good grip on it's meaning/purpose, I don't know how to classify it. It's a feminist book, a story of how women can embrace, let go, and rise above their horrors and achieve a spirituality that is both not understood and, even more so, feared; it's a story of how you can live a clean life and people will conjure up the dirtiest story against you, taking your life into their hands; it's a story about judgement and justification to feed a personal (and destructive) agenda; it's a story about one's duty as an African-American towards their race; it's a story of a corrupted, delusional people that only destroys itself and hurts it's descendants.

Most importantly: it's a story about us vs. them — young vs old; progressive vs traditional; open-minded vs close-minded; free spirit vs stuck; male vs female. It's about there not being a right way to live, only one's own individual way to live. And that way is only destructive if you're living for the wrong reasons.

(10/18/21) some notes I found:

p. 137-247

Patricia
- 8-R feels seniority over being there the longest but are upset to see light-skinned people reject them. “They knew there was a difference in the minds”

p.194
- Why do you think it’s called Disallowing?
- Scattering
- Technically the “New Fathers” weren’t disallowed — want to duplicate
- But Convent is very helpful and accepting. Convent is most likely all light-skinned girls — and why Ruby hates them.

p. 100-102
- Consolata
- Soane’s “sin”

Turning point.

help, i can't stop reading toni morrison!

just kidding. that is not a problem i'm looking to solve.

morrison never holds your hand and walks you through it, even though sometimes you (read: i) wish she would.

this finale in the beloved trilogy has so much to say about violence and oppression, but still i somehow wish it said more.

we follow the residents of a town and of a convent as we crawl toward the act of violence that ends the life they know, but i was jarred by the act and how quickly and confusingly it was over. the writing didn't seem like the same standard i've come to know, and the ending was a strange abrupt where are they now while the credits rolled.

the vibes were off.

bottom line: my least favorite toni morrison, and i still liked it.

(3.5)

Unfortunately, I am not fond of this book. I love Morrison's other works, even the complex Beloved. But with "Paradise", I am just left feeling confused. There are way too many characters and we are not given a proper introduction to who is who. I couldn't follow the plot of the story because I was struggling with the characters. The beginning of the book was very captivating and exciting - a group of nine men plan to attack the Convent, where a group of independent women live. The men believe that these women have a corrupting influence on Ruby, the town which the men's forefathers have founded. After that each chapter follows the story of one of the Convent's women and some of the women of Ruby. The last two chapters finally continue the plot of the story that was presented in Chapter One. I really didn't like this style of story-telling. It felt disjointed and all over the place. On the one hand, it is supposed to be a critique of how men want to control women and how men hate independent women. But on the other hand, these men founded Ruby for themselves because they faced racism in the outside world, even though they ironically exclude any outsider from Ruby too. I completely missed the point of this book; thus, I didn't enjoy it so much.