3,5⭐️
I truly loved the writing style of this piece. The author's use of language was engaging and had a certain charm that kept me hooked from the beginning. However, when it came to the plot, it wasn't always to my liking.

There were times when the story seemed to drag or take unexpected turns that didn't quite resonate with me. I found myself losing interest in certain parts and had to push myself to keep reading.

Despite this, I still appreciate the effort that went into the writing. The descriptive passages and the development of the characters were well done. It's just that the overall plot didn't quite hit the mark for me.

Maybe it's a matter of personal preference, but I think the author could have done a better job of structuring the story to make it more engaging and consistent. Overall, it was an okay read, but not one that I would highly recommend.

I imagine the "Hey" beginning delicately on the tongue and then fading away in the chest. And the word "Celestial" being drawn out slowly like taffy in the mouth. So that when Christine or Heed uttered it, there was a distinct pleasure both in the pronunciation and in the effect it had. It was both liberating and comforting for those two girls who were powerless in the face of the gendered violence that had grasped hold of their lives. “Hey, Celestial,” they would say, “like an amen.” The cadence of the phrase was as holy as the woman it referred to.

In fact, throughout the novel, it was this woman, Celestial, that I was particularly drawn to. Perhaps it was her cosmic name and the cosmic descriptions of her: “hair like clouds dragging the moon,” and the way she dived into water with an arc that L remembered “better than yesterday.” Maybe it was her commitment to the Cosey grave, singing songs with “a voice so full of longing” that caused L to break her own solitude and hum along.

More likely, however, I was drawn to Celestial because of the phantom nature of her presence. She was only mentioned a handful of times, and never narrated from her own perspective like every other character. She was referenced as an inspiration for a secret code for the children and then as the source of a secret pleasure for Cosey. She was both secret and secretive, hiding and hidden away. And what better phantom to have haunting a novel about hidden shame and its secret betrayal?

In a time when therapy is emphasized as the only modality towards “healing” and reconciliation, I have often wondered what those who not only had no access to it but also had no cultural conceptualization for it did to “get better.” What Morrison reminded me while reading Love was the power of love itself. The human instinct to know another and to connect with them. Reconciliation is not a strong enough word to describe Heed and Christine’s divine reconnection. It was nothing short of a resurrection, made all the more absolute by the death of one and their bond flourishing post-mortem.

But it was love and the memory of it that took them to the place of resurrection. And though they were pushed into its corner via a confrontation with death, all they had to do was look at each other in the eyes and remember the unspeakable shame that drove them apart. Once it was spoken, their friendship revived, and more importantly, their own personal poison was cured. Morrison, in her 8th novel, shows the death-grip of shame on our relationships and the phantom of betrayal it leaves in its wake. What is made clear, however, is that love is not only healing: love resurrects. Surrender to the memory of shame and let someone bear witness to it. Perhaps even say a “Hey, Celestial” if you need to.

Entering a Morrison’s world implies losing yourself in a world of poetry, magic, pain, and heartbreak.

It's not just about reading; it's like ambling through the streets of her seaside town. You can feel the gentle breeze, see the colorful buildings, and smell the salty air.

You float through the waves, feeling the power and beauty of the ocean. You hover among her characters, getting to know their hopes, dreams, and fears.

And you're drifted away by the sound of jazz played on her beach, losing all sense of time and place.

That's Toni Morrison for me: she lifts me up, carries me to her world, and makes me forget about myself.

I stand next to her characters, soaking up their struggles, sorrows, and sadness.

Might have been L who hummed me to reading, but it was Toni Morrison who made me fall in love with literature.

Her words are like a magic spell, drawing me in and making me feel things I've never felt before.

I can't wait to explore more of her world and see where her stories take me.

**PopSugar Reading Challenge 2017**

**5. A book written by a person of color**

It seems as if each woman lived in a circle of light, separated, or united, by the darkness that lay between them (p.34).

I love Toni Morrison. I feel that this lady is a master storyteller, narrating, telling, and unraveling the stories of such human, fragile yet so determined characters that it is a delight to read her. For me, I would read everything she has written.

Love (which could also be called "Hate" or "How two women hate each other because of a man who is a jerk") is the story of Heed and Christine, both surnamed Cosey. One is a widow and the other is the granddaughter of Bill Cosey, a man who died many years ago and ran a vacation center (a.k.a a summer hotel) that was very successful in the community (Up Beach, Silk, it's not clear to me) because of the food prepared by L. and the music of great musicians of the time (presumably jazz).

The thing is that Heed is not really Christine's grandmother, but a friend. A friend who loved her very much, until at the age of 11 she married the grandfather of her friend Christine and that's where all the emotional (and physical, too) conflict begins for these two girls who spent their lives trying to please others, especially men. The story focuses on a present in which Heed and Christine are old women living in the same house, but they hate each other to death and never see each other, except on certain occasions. Christine takes care of everything in the house, but they never talk or interact with each other. It is when Junior June Viviane appears, a somewhat troubled but incredibly attractive, seductive and unrestrained girl, who comes into the lives of these two Cosey women to "help" (at first it's not clear in what way) Heed (who has arthritis and can hardly do anything for herself). And well, from there comes a whole story of betrayals, lies, grudges, hatreds, loves, etc., that revolve around an inheritance.

The most outstanding female characters are Heed, Christine, L., May, and Junior. They are strong, strange, crazy, and in search of affection. And this is what I love about Morrison: she always creates women with different shades and angles. The most relevant men in the story are Bill Cosey (an old, disgusting, degenerate, and cowardly man) and Romen, the boy who starts a relationship with Junior June almost immediately after she arrives at number 1 Monarch Street.

I liked the characters, although at first I didn't understand the story well (it's told from different voices and can be a bit confusing). I like the focus on female power, despite everything. I like that the women in this story are aware of their mistakes, but also of the decisions they have made. I like that the writer always mixes the brutality of violence (the rape scenes are not so strong, but they are harsh) and the determination of the black race. I liked it a lot and for me, I build an altar to Morrison. Recommended.

Reading Toni Morrison is an experience like no other. It's as if you're on a sailboat, gently gliding along a seemingly calm sea, yet unaware of all the complex and hidden currents beneath the surface. Or perhaps it's like listening to an ordinary conversation among friends or family, only to realize later that there was a whole unspoken history and underlying tension behind those polite smiles. As I read Toni Morrison, I am initially swept away by her beautiful and poetic language, following the story with ease. But then, suddenly, I have to hit the brakes and ask myself, "Wait, did I really understand what's going on here?"

This particular story revolves around a group of women whose lives are intertwined with one man, Bill Cosey. In the 1940s and 1950s, he owned and ran a beachside hotel that catered to blacks. Each woman had a unique relationship with him - as an employee, wife, daughter, or granddaughter - and they all vied for his affection. Even years after his death, there is still a great deal of bad blood and resentment among them, but these emotions are not easily revealed to the reader. In this choral novel, each woman (and the two male voices) holds back certain details or only implies them, making it necessary for the reader to backtrack and piece together the full picture.

The novel touches on several themes that are common in Toni Morrison's work, such as child molestation, sexual violence, and class consciousness. While race is a factor, it's not the main focus. Instead, the story delves into the prejudices, jealousies, and envies that exist within a black society. It's not a quick read, as there is so much going on beneath the surface. The reader must pay close attention to what is said, what is left unsaid, and the lies we tell ourselves to justify our actions. This is a lesser-known Morrison novel, but it still showcases her remarkable talent for telling a story that makes you think deeply. It's a great choice for both readers' groups and solitary readers alike.

\\n  Synopsis:\\n
Forty years from now, Cosey’s Oceanfront Resort lies in ruins. A girl shows up at Sandler Gibbons’ doorstep, seeking directions to an address he recognizes as belonging to the Cosey women. This simple encounter sets off a chain reaction, opening up a Pandora’s box of past secrets and dramas. When Vida Gibbons, his wife, and his grandson Romen return home from work, the situation becomes even more complicated.
The young woman is Junior Viviane, there for a job as the secretary to Mrs Heed Cosey. Her task is to verify what Heed is writing, which is a biography of Bill Cosey. Romen also works there, under the supervision of Christine Cosey.

\\n  Review:\\n
This is only my third Morrison, and yet I’ve come to expect the masterful build-up she provides before the story truly begins. It may take some time to get accustomed to and a bit of effort to fully understand, but it’s all worth it for the exquisite prose that follows. The build-up is in the first-person narration, while the rest of the story unfolds in the third-person.
Weaving together history and African-American culture, Love delves into the lives of the Blacks. Before Bill Cosey started the resort, they had no respect and no proper jobs in the area. Morrison’s books often show that things get worse before they get better, if at all. Through a split narrative, the story jumps back and forth between forty years ago and the present, opening in the 1990s.
I was initially confused about the identities of Christine, May, and Heed, trying to figure out how they were related. But as the story progresses, everything becomes clear. There’s also a character, L, who doesn’t make a physical appearance and whose complete identity is never fully revealed. Yet, she is the first-person observer, revealing the past in fits and starts. Imagining L’s significance after the story ends, as she’s the one who concludes it, is truly magical.
Just like in The Bluest Eye, Morrison not only writes about the discrimination Black people face but also the double discrimination that the women endure. After reading three of her books, I feel that while they aren’t centered around a single theme or issue, she makes a powerful statement about each and every one of them throughout her stories.
With chapters that aptly describe what Cosey was to the women in his life, there are no virtuous characters in the book. Almost everyone is at fault, either for turning a blind eye to reality or for being biased. But how did they become like this, especially the women, always at each other’s throats? Bill Cosey is at the root of the problem, and how! He’s one of the characters I gradually learned to hate, as the narrative reveals him to be a very different person beneath the facade he presented to the Black community. In the end, it’s interesting to see how, even after so many years since his death, things continue in much the same way. The closing narrative by L is beautiful and leaves the reader with many thoughts to ponder.
P.S. After reading the book, be sure to check out Elaine Showalter’s review of Love published in The Guardian.
I read this book as part of the Toni Morrison Book Club by Aayushi @_penandpapers, where we select one of the author’s books every month. This was the March pick.
Originally posted on:
Shaina's Musings

Disturbing. Ew. These two words sum up my initial reaction to this particular experience. However, upon further reflection, I found that there were aspects that deserved a higher rating. In fact, I would give it 4.5 stars.

The disturbing element added an unexpected layer of intensity that kept me on the edge of my seat. It made me question my own comfort zones and pushed me to look at things from a different perspective. Ew, on the other hand, was my immediate visceral response to some of the more graphic or unpleasant details.

Despite these initial reactions, I couldn't deny the overall quality and impact of the experience. The 4.5 stars reflect the fact that it was a complex and thought-provoking piece that managed to engage me on multiple levels. It had its flaws, but they were outweighed by its strengths.

I have read several of Toni Morrison's books and have always been in awe of her literary genius. Therefore, I was extremely eager to read this particular one. However, to my great disappointment, it failed to live up to the high standards set by her other works.

It lacked the brilliance and clarity that I have come to expect from Morrison. Instead, it seemed to share much of the confusion and ambiguity that can sometimes be found in her writing.

I had a great deal of difficulty following the plot and often found myself lost and wondering which of the characters she was quoting or writing about at any given moment.

Overall, while I still respect Toni Morrison as a writer, this book was a bit of a letdown for me. I had hoped for something more profound and engaging, but unfortunately, it did not deliver.

It is well-known the capabilities of Toni Morrison's writing. However, let's say that I prefer her older works. All great writers have their enemies and their self-competitors. That's what they were and wrote in the past.

It seemed to me inferior. Not bad, of course, how could it be? It's Morrison's.

Her earlier works often delved deeper into the human psyche and explored themes with a rawness and authenticity that was truly captivating. They had a certain charm and power that her later works perhaps didn't quite possess in the same way. While her later writings are still of high quality, there's something about the nostalgia and the unique flavor of her older works that keeps drawing me back.

Maybe it's because those earlier works were a product of a different time, a different era, and they carry with them the essence and spirit of that particular moment in literary history. Whatever the reason, my preference for Toni Morrison's older works remains strong, and I continue to appreciate and admire the genius that she is.

At heart, this is a truly fantastic and compact novel that delves deep into the complex and often tumultuous sisterly love between two women. Their bond, which was once so strong and unbreakable, has unfortunately been shattered—yes, you guessed it correctly—by yet another goddamned terrible man. Seriously, what in the world is wrong with you demented, perverted pieces of crap?

How could such a despicable creature come along and wreak havoc on the beautiful relationship these sisters shared? It's beyond comprehension. The novel explores the pain, the heartbreak, and the ultimate betrayal that occurs as a result of this man's actions.

We are left to wonder if the sisters will ever be able to repair the damage and find their way back to each other. Or will the shadow of this man continue to loom over them, forever changing the course of their lives? The story is a powerful reminder of the破坏力 that a single person can have on the lives of others and the importance of珍惜the relationships that truly matter.

If the first thing I read by Morrison, I would have enjoyed it more.

And thus we judge the writer by himself and his creation or by our feeling towards it.

I see myself closer to her bluer-eyed and more pitiful story, while this novel is like a jazzy novel, where it is rich in expressions and the narratives that the writer is distinguished by.

And the translator did not make the matter easy and I assume he has nothing in his hands in this regard.

It seems that Morrison's works have a certain charm that attracts readers. Her unique writing style and profound themes make her novels stand out.

Whether it is the vivid descriptions or the complex characters, they all leave a deep impression on the readers.

Although the translation may have some challenges, it does not detract from the overall value of the work.

We can still appreciate Morrison's literary achievements and gain inspiration from her works.

As much as I have a deep admiration for Toni Morrison, my feelings towards this particular aspect of the story were rather complex.

The relationship between Romen and Junior left me with a queasy sensation. It was so uncomfortable that I frequently had to put the book down and take breaks, fearing the vivid descriptions of their interactions. (Perhaps I was being a bit overly dramatic, but that's how it made me feel.)

Romen being only 14 and Junior described as "in her late teens" made it extremely difficult for me to view their relationship in a positive light. (Although I'm not entirely certain if that was Morrison's intention.)

When Romen made the statement, "She was like a gorgeous pet. Feed it or whip it — it lapped you anyway," it completely altered my perception of their dynamic. There was an obvious imbalance, yet I couldn't quite put my finger on where it stemmed from. It became even more peculiar because she clearly stated that the relationship between Heed and Bill Cosey was wrong. I suppose that's because the two situations can't really be compared. Nevertheless, I still didn't like it.

Despite this, the book was overall a great piece of work. Morrison's writing style truly enables the reader to understand different perspectives and how our individual sufferings are never isolated. Although it wasn't initially clear who was narrating which part, as the story unfolded, it became easier to follow.

However, the relationship between Romen and Junior continues to haunt my thoughts and prevent me from fully appreciating the book for all its merits. Maybe when I'm older and have more life experiences, I'll give it another read and gain a different understanding.