Toni Morrison is one of the few authors who truly knows how to break a reader's heart and mind. Her spiritual trilogy, which includes Beloved, Jazz, and Paradise, is a testament to her literary genius. Paradise, the final entry in the trilogy, ends with a bang, much like its predecessors.

The novel opens with a tragedy, similar to the previous two. While Beloved remains the strongest of the three, each successive novel adds more complexity to the characters cast as victims, resulting in great layered drama and escalating stakes. Morrison doesn't let us absolve the murderers of their sins; instead, she crafts a narrative that helps us understand how cycles of suffering perpetuate themselves. Trauma begets trauma, and this age-old tale is as biblical as it gets.

Set in a small town called Ruby in Oklahoma during the 1970s, Paradise slowly introduces us to a group of troubled women living in a "convent." This building was originally an embezzler's mansion, then a boarding school for indigenous girls, and finally a place of solace for troubled people, mainly women. The setting serves as a metaphor for the town of Ruby itself, which has troubled origins but tries to reform itself through strict adherence to religion. However, as the saying goes, "A cross was no better than the bearer." People who look down on others to build a better life for themselves are not truly virtuous.

The women in the convent are all flawed, but they just want to live safely and in peace. Their presence on the outskirts of town, however, threatens the town's rigid social structure, and they are systematically dehumanized by the angry men. The path that leads to this tension is best summarized in a conversation about the past and its impact on the present. The past is always present, not just in historic texts but in everyday life. Morrison presents the very real response of putting up walls after trauma on a societal level, showing how unprocessed trauma can lead to even more tragedy. In an effort to avoid being a victim, protective anger can turn a well-intentioned individual into a villain, especially if they believe they are superior to others.
Overall, Paradise is a fascinating meditation on generational trauma and religion. I highly recommend it, along with everything else I've ever read by Toni Morrison. She is a genius who lives up to the hype and then some.

300 pages is a long time to wait for a finale. Morrison's work is filled with brilliance. The opening lines, "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," set a mysterious and foreboding tone.

The text delves into various themes. We see the idea that war is considered safer than certain cities in the US, highlighting the dangerous and racially charged atmosphere. The description of the oak cross above the altar emphasizes its simplicity and purity, perhaps in contrast to the complex and often corrupt world around it.

The scene of Consolata preparing the apples adds a touch of domesticity and detail. But then we are reminded of the lack of pity and the men's focus on defense rather than fellowship when they discuss the changes in Ruby.

The final paragraph ties back to the opening, painting a picture of a backward place ruled by men with out-of-control power, who discriminate against women. Once again, Morrison tackles racism and misogyny, bringing her incisive scalpel to these important subjects. While the book may not hang together like some of her others, the clarity and emotional impact remain the same.

It truly feels sacrilegious to utter anything negative regarding Toni Morrison's work. When I contemplate, I firmly believe that Beloved stands as the best American novel of the 20th century. However, Paradise, unfortunately, presents a different picture. It is rather confusing, overly stuffed with a plethora of irrelevant characters, and severely lacking in narrative impulse. It gives the impression that the story had the potential to possess real urgency and powerful characterization. But alas, it seems that if it had been approached in another way, perhaps a more focused and streamlined manner, it could have achieved greater heights. As it stands, it is a sad disappointment.

Morrison is truly a remarkable CRAFTSWOMAN when it comes to words. The beauty of her stories is simply insurmountable.

Take "Paradise" for example. It's not an easy read by any means. There are just too many names and stories to keep track of at times. However, every moment seamlessly flows into the next in a masterful way.

The concept explored in "Paradise" is profound. The idea that we often try to find a paradise with those who are healed rather than broken can actually be harmful. Morrison exemplifies this brilliantly. It's better to gather with the broken-hearted, for then your grievances shall be heard. Surrounding yourself with those whose stories can intertwine with yours is far more fulfilling than attempting to assimilate to an unknown crowd.

Furthermore, Morrison subtly hints at the dangers of isolation in "Paradise", and she does so in ways that invert her normal narratives.

While "Paradise" may not be my absolute favorite read of Morrison's, it was most definitely worth the week of tough reading and deep contemplation it demanded. It leaves a lasting impression and makes you think about the human condition in ways you never thought possible.

It was like reading an alien language.

The book seemed to be written in a completely foreign and incomprehensible script. I truly hated it as I couldn't make heads or tails of it.

It was so confusing that I simply didn't get the essence or the message it was trying to convey.

However, I knew that in order to give a reasonable and fair review, I would have to reread it.

I would have to force myself to go through those pages again, hoping to find some hidden gems or understand the author's intentions better.

It wasn't going to be an easy task, but I was determined to do it justice and provide an accurate assessment of the book.

Maybe on the second read, I would be able to see beyond the initial confusion and discover the true value of the text.

Only time would tell if my efforts would pay off and if I could finally make sense of this seemingly alien language.

I have a great passion for reading Toni Morrison's works. Among the five books I have perused thus far, I firmly believe that Paradise stands out as the most outstanding, profound, and intricately developed.

This novel weaves together the parallel tales of numerous characters whose lives become intertwined through the trials of hardships, slavery, emancipation, oppression, and the longing for a better future. The black community of Ruby, which is patriarchally governed, consists of (presumably third-generation) black people who strive to shut out white supremacy, brown-skinned disgrace, and anything that deviates from their black tradition. The pride of the Ruby residents is so bold and evident that at a certain point, they cannot tolerate the independence of four mysterious women who reside in the Convent, a mansion located several miles away from their purified community. As a result, nine of the most powerful men, acting arbitrarily as leaders, invade the Convent, ostensibly to protect their town that they perceive as being threatened by the women's perceived looseness. However, in reality, their actions are driven solely by personal interest and a thirst for vengeance.

Apart from the unique lyricism that pervades the novel, what I found most captivating was the discreet manner in which the issue of colourism was addressed, as well as its paradoxically discouraging complexity. Morrison has crafted a book about race by deliberately choosing not to explicitly discuss race. Interestingly, the novel commences with the striking opening line, "They shoot the white girl first," yet the reader is never informed throughout the storyline which of the five girls was the white one. Morrison has once again opted for a multiple narrative approach, but this time the number of characters is outrageously large, making it challenging to keep track of who is who and their relationships. Nevertheless, the deep, poetic language she employs compensates the reader for the demand she places on them to remain constantly alert. Under different circumstances, I might have abandoned the reading due to its truly exhausting nature. However, at present, all I can think about is when I can find the time to read it again and absorb more of its details and secrets. I may be partial, but I wholeheartedly believe that there is no other author who possesses Morrison's clarity and artistic vision. She is truly one-of-a-kind.

We LOVEEE this book!

Even up to the first 50% of it, I wasn't certain it would have a profound impact on me. The story commences with a group of men heading to a local convent, determined to make the women living there leave town by any means necessary. What soon unfolds is a bloody massacre. From that point, the book jumps back in time as we follow a diverse group of female characters. Some remain at the convent, while others are married to the local men who carry out the massacre.

From their perspectives, we learn about the town of Ruby, a second-generation rural town in the middle of nowhere. Founded by a group of 10 families who were considered too black to enter many of the towns they attempted to join, as the decades pass, the families begin to place a high value on the "purity" of their skin tone. This leads to a great deal of intermarriage, and new arrivals in the town are often regarded as degrading the quality of the community.

There is also infighting within the 10 families, accidental pregnancies, and marriages intended to unify the group, but to no avail. And from the viewpoints of the women both inside and outside this community, we witness the mounting tensions as the men start to view the convent of women (who, it should be noted, are not nuns) as a sort of cult, hellbent on destroying the moral fabric of the community.

After the 60% mark, I simply could not put this book down. There is a character named Patricia (not overly crucial), who, at around the 50% mark, walks us through a significant portion of the backstory for the community, and we begin to see how all the pieces will fit together. That's when I truly began to love this book.

Overall, it gives the impression as if Toni Morrison had written East of Eden and added a witch hunt. I really adored this one.

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

On page 89, it is written: "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."

And on page 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, while at the same time telling a truly remarkable story. It is a battle between the desire to turn the page and see what happens next and the urge to stop and read the magical sentences over and over again. I also wasn't entirely sure if 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 work not only belongs in the Pantheon but makes me think that there may need to be a new category: Heavenly Pantheon.

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

It seems almost sacrilegious not to have an affinity for something written by Toni Morrison, a renowned figure in 20th-century American literature. However, I have a feeling that in six months' time, I will remember next to nothing about this particular book.

The book is lauded for its lyricism and its near-poetic quality. It delves into a profound meditation on a plethora of subjects.

Regrettably, this very aspect seems to tear the concept of a coherent story right out of the book. What we are left with is an abundance of "telling" and philosophizing, with precious little "showing" or a proper narrative arc.

There are an overwhelming number of characters in the book, none of whom are fully developed or fleshed out. As a result, it becomes all but impossible to untangle the complex web of connections within the town.

I have a deep love for Morrison's early novels. I firmly believe that The Bluest Eye is a work of genius. But this particular offering simply fails to resonate with me. One reviewer aptly commented that reading this book feels like jumping directly from James Joyce's Dubliners into Finnegan's Wake. That statement is a remarkably accurate reflection of my own reaction to reading this novel.

They shoot the white girl first. With the rest they can take their time.

So, famously, begins Toni Morrison's Paradise.

But we never learn who the white girl is. Apparently, Morrison said she started with race, and then erased it by never identifying who the white one is. Does that bother you? she seems to ask implicitly. Does it unsettle you? Do you feel like you can't understand these characters unless you know which ones are white and which ones are black? Are you not sure which ones you're supposed to or allowed to identify with until you know their race?

In an interview, Morrison said of her decision to not identify the white girl, "Does it interfere with the story? Does it make you uncomfortable? Or do I succeed in making the characters so clear, their interior lives so distinctive, that you realize (a) it doesn't matter, and (b), more important, that when you know their race, it's the least amount of information to know about a person."

It's like Morrison is holding up a mirror and demanding you look into it, and examine how important race is to you. It's more than a novel; it's a psychoanalysis of the reader.

I think I know who it might be, based on one line a character says to her, but I'm not going to say who it is, or look for more details. I think that defeats the whole point.

The writing in this book is nothing less than beautiful. Check this out: The venom is manageable now. Shooting the first woman (the white one) has clarified it like butter: the pure oil of hatred on top, its hardness stabilized below. Outside, the mist is waist high. It will turn silver soon and make grass rainbows low enough for children's play before the sun burns it off, exposing acres of bluestem and maybe witch tracks as well.

It's not magical realism in the overt way of, say, Gabriel Garcia Marquez. There's not explicitly magical, and there are arguably practical explanations for everything. But there's an element that everything is not all it seems, and that these somewhat plausible explanations aren't actually the answer.

It's often a little difficult to follow, intentionally so. Things are kept vague: one character, for instance, is described only as "him" and you're supposed to guess from context clues which character he is that you've already met. He happens to be an identical twin, one of the two leaders of the all-black community known as Ruby located a few miles from a haven for women known as the Convent (used to be nuns "saving" Native American girls and forcing them to be Christians, but now is just a place where a handful or two of women live together).

Point of view can be disorienting, too. There are chapters titled with names of women, either the ones in the Convent or in Ruby (i.e. Consolata, Pat, Seneca, Divine aka Pallas, Gigi) but that doesn't mean that character will be the primary point of view for that chapter.

I found Pat (a resident of Ruby) to be the most interesting character. She was the most challenging to those around her. She refused to hop on board the us/them mentality of the Ruby residents (for instance, light-skinned black residents of Ruby were discriminated against and considered racially impure--despite the fact that Ruby was founded to escape racism).

It's the women who make this book. The men manufacture divisions and hierarchies, and the women resist them and create communities. In this book, women are connecting with and supporting one another, in spite of themselves, in spite of all the reasons they have not to. Wives and mistresses, black and white, light-skinned and dark-skinned, outsider and insider. All of them defiant.

~~~~~~BOOK RIOT'S READ HARDER CHALLENGE~~~~~~

#13: An Oprah Book Club selection

I don't understand how Morrison is able to write a novel with so many stories intertwined. There are so many themes, issues, and so much history. And yet, she still remains lyrical and arresting with her words. It's truly remarkable.

She has this incredible talent for weaving together complex narratives in a way that is both engaging and thought-provoking. Each story seems to fit perfectly into the larger tapestry, adding depth and richness to the overall work.

Her use of language is also a thing of beauty. The words seem to flow off the page, creating a vivid and immersive world for the reader. It's no wonder that she is considered one of the greatest writers of our time.

She is too good at this. If you want to read a full review, check out http://ZoraToniMaya.tumblr.com.

Another Morrison read, and as always, I am in awe of her rich prose, nuanced characters, and multilayered narrative.

It is set in the 1970s and follows numerous characters during their time in the fictional, all-black town of Ruby, as well as their lives before. It is a beautiful blend of classic storytelling and magic. I adored that aspect of Beloved, and Morrison wields her subtle use of magical realism and mysticism just as artfully in Paradise.

The opening line is incredibly powerful, setting the stage for the shocking events that unfold later on. You spend much of the book on edge, waiting for the inevitable violence to erupt as the utopian town takes a dark turn. As usual, heavy themes are deftly tackled, such as the fear of integration and change, the tension between older and younger generations, and the hierarchies within an all-black town, where the lighter-skinned'mixed' residents are looked down upon by the original '8-rock' families.

There are a large number of characters in this novel, each with a variety of different nicknames, so it can get a bit confusing at times. (I learned the hard way that it's not really a book to pick up and put down on a commute.) However, if you persevere, the payoff is well worth it. A few family trees might have been helpful! But even with so many characters to keep track of, each one is as complex as the next, and I could have read full-length novels about many of them.

The women in this book are particularly captivating, as is the almost character-like house, The Convent, which holds a dark glamour over the rest of the town, sitting far out in the country and attracting the women of the town like moths to a flame.

It is one of those books that simply demands a reread in the future to catch all those details you missed on your first reading.