SPOILERS

Overview: Joe Trace, a middle-aged married man with his wife Violet, has an affair with an 18-year-old named Dorkas. Over the anguish of their breakup, he shoots her.

Characters: The first half of the book presents Violet and briefly touches on the affair and general aspects of growing up, written in a simple and accessible style. However, the second half seems almost as if it were penned by a different author. I actually had to reread 10% of the book as I struggled to understand the roles of Truebell and GoldenGrey. This second half focuses more on Joe but then veers off into exploring his family tree rather than concentrating solely on Joe himself.

What was missing: I simply didn't care. Despite the detailed history provided on the characters from their birth to the present day, it failed to engage me. I wasn't interested in why he cheated, why Violet let the birds go, or why Dorkas allowed herself to die. I could envision the scenery and the conversations, but it all left me cold.

Would I read it again - No.

Would I recommend it - No.

Brilliant, shape-shifting novel about Harlem in the jazz era (and so much more). This description truly encapsulates the essence of a remarkable literary work. I've really enjoyed delving a bit deeper into Morrison's work in the past few years. Her novels are like rich tapestries, weaving together complex themes, vivid characters, and a sense of history that is both palpable and profound.

The setting of Harlem in the jazz era provides a vibrant backdrop for the story. Morrison brings this era to life with her lush prose,描绘出 the sights, sounds, and emotions of a community in flux. The novel explores not only the music and culture of the time but also the social and political issues that were shaping the lives of African Americans.

What makes Morrison's work so special is her ability to tell a story that is both personal and universal. Her characters are flawed and complex, and we can't help but empathize with their struggles and triumphs. Through their experiences, we gain a deeper understanding of the human condition and the power of love, hope, and redemption.

In conclusion, this novel is a must-read for anyone who loves great literature. It is a testament to Morrison's genius as a writer and a reminder of the importance of exploring our past to better understand our present and future.

Maybe she thought she could solve the mystery of love that way.

It's an interesting thought, isn't it? Love is such a complex and elusive thing. Some people spend their entire lives searching for it, while others seem to find it easily.

But perhaps by approaching it in a different way, she might be onto something. Good luck to her in her quest.

I'm curious to see what she discovers. Maybe she'll find the answers she's been looking for, or maybe she'll realize that love is something that can't be solved so easily.

Either way, I hope she has a fulfilling and enlightening experience. And I'll be waiting to hear all about it. Let me know when she figures it out.

"What's the world for if you can't make it up the way you want it?"

This is the final novel of the Beloved trilogy. Even though it's the second in the series and I've already read Beloved and Paradise, it's entirely possible to read any of these novels independently as the characters and stories in each book are distinct. The unifying element in all three books is an exploration of an extreme form of love that culminates in violence and destruction. In Beloved, it's a mother's intense love and the lengths she'll go to protect her children from slavery. In Paradise, it's the love the community leaders have for their community and the measures they take to safeguard it from what they perceive as threats. And in Jazz, it's an excessive form of romantic love.

The story commences with the entire premise presented by the unnamed narrator of the book. So, it's not a spoiler to state that this book revolves around a middle-aged man who falls deeply in love with a young woman and then murders her when she leaves him. It's part of Toni's unique style to present the premise at the outset while she unfolds the narrative, gradually revealing the lives and circumstances of the characters that drove them to act as they did.

It is truly impossible to draw any bead on this extremely fresh take on keeping love alive.

Marriage, at times, demands sacrifice. And Morrison, in a brilliant manner, presents very literal new blood to the altar of matrimony.

This concept of offering new blood is both startling and thought-provoking. It makes one wonder about the lengths to which people are willing to go to maintain the vitality and essence of their relationships.

Perhaps Morrison is suggesting that in order to keep love alive, we need to be willing to make radical and unexpected sacrifices.

It could also imply that marriage is not always a smooth and easy journey, but rather one that requires us to constantly give and rejuvenate.

Overall, this fresh spin on keeping love alive challenges our traditional notions and forces us to look at marriage from a different perspective.

2.5 stars

This book gives me a feeling that is very similar to my perception of jazz music. On one hand, I respect it for its virtuosity and vibrancy. The writing is filled with gorgeous prose and beautiful fluidity, which I truly appreciate. It's like listening to a complex jazz composition where the notes dance and flow. However, just like with jazz, I am frequently left confused and underwhelmed with the end result.

I appreciate the masters of literature, and Toni Morrison is no exception. I have a soft spot in my heart for her works. In this book, while I admired the descriptive elements and the attempt to create a story with the freedom and flow of jazz music, the storyline and the various cuts in perspective left me annoyed. I never quite got a clear feel for the characters. Maybe that was the point, but for me, it made it difficult to fully engage with the story.

The story is about a couple, Violet and Joe Trace, who have a storied past. They have struggled to survive, moving from a rural Virginia existence to Harlem. Violet is a 56-year-old itinerant hairdresser for women of ill repute, and Joe is a traveling fragrance salesman who uses his charm to drum up sales. Despite their many trials and tribulations, they still have a deep love for each other.

The event that showcases their true love is the murder of Joe's young lover, Dorcas. In a fit of embarrassment, Joe shoots Dorcas, and Violet mutilates her face at the funeral. Instead of a police investigation or severe reproachment, Violet begins to learn about Dorcas from her legal guardian. We learn about Dorcas's tragic circumstances and Joe's troubled origin story.

While the storytelling and prose were inventive and full of beautiful descriptions, the perspective change left me perplexed. The stories didn't feel interconnected, and the backstory of Joe Trace felt tacked on. I agree with the favorable reviews that noted the prose, but for me, a novel must first and foremost tell a compelling story, and this one fell short.

Man, it's truly a mind-boggling question: how on earth does an author follow up on a widely acclaimed modern classic like BELOVED? Well, Toni Morrison does it by writing about Jazz!

This is still historical fiction, but for the most part, we're back in the 20th century. Specifically, it's set in Harlem in the years after the first world war. The main story centers around a young girl named Dorcas, who is tragically killed by her older lover, Joe. But the drama doesn't end there. Joe's wife, Violet, accosts the body at the funeral, earning herself the nickname "Violent."

What's the point of all this madness? Is it all due to the sinuous influence of jazz music, as Dorcas's aunt believes? Meh, I don't think so. Violence is rampant everywhere - institutional white violence against Blacks, and then inner community crime. It exists even in country settings and dates back to the days of slavery. No Morrison novel is just a tabloid piece ripped from the headlines. She delves deep into the flowing rivers of history.

There are numerous characters in play, and with Morrison's stream of consciousness style, they can be quite difficult to keep track of. What always stands out to me, as in her other works, is Morrison's incisive commentary on colorism and racial identity. Dorcas was light-skinned and highly desirable, while Violet was darker. Violet grew up hearing a story from her grandmother, who was born into slavery, about the young mistress in her household getting impregnated by a slave. She flees her father's wrath from Virginia to Baltimore but ends up not getting rid of the baby. The baby, who is extremely light-skinned, is called Golden Gray. When he finally learns the truth of his lineage, he confronts his father out of fear and rage, inadvertently stepping into Joe's backstory where his mother, a wild woman, is giving birth and running off.

Many of these are the internal realities of Black people. Dorcas's realities, on the other hand, are much more external. Both of her parents were killed in white riots. Her strict aunt raised her, but like Joe, it seems Dorcas was searching for a replacement figure. I struggled a bit with Dorcas's death. The way the other characters, both directly and indirectly responsible for it, seemed to dismiss her. She was their victim, and she didn't deserve to die! Then again, who in this novel deserved their treatment? At least in the case of Dorcas, and in the case of the Black people, they come together - Violet and Dorcas's aunt, Violet, Joe, and Dorcas's friend Felice - to try and make sense of their lives, to reach out to each other, and even to express remorse. It's all so much more human than the institutional violence from outside the community.

And in between all of this is the music and rhythm of Jazz. And sometimes other music too. As Toni Morrison describes in her foreword: "Like the music that came to be known as Jazz, she took from everywhere, knew everything - gospel, classic, blues, hymns - and made it her own."

There is a narrator to this story. Like in many of Morrison's works, sometimes the characters speak for themselves in first person. But there's another first person too. Who is it, this voice that sometimes seems to imply that the other characters are "manifestation of the music's intellect, sensuality, anarchy"? I'm quoting from Morrison's foreword again, and I think the answer is Jazz. She wrote a book to be the novelization of a storied, musical tradition. What an amazing encore to BELOVED. That's so freaking cool.

Toni Morrison is undoubtedly a unique author. Every time I finish reading her works, I am equally charmed and horrified. Although I don't think this book is on par with "Beloved" (which is monumental, and I hope I'm wrong when I say I don't think another of her books will surpass it) and "The Bluest Eye", it still remains a story that cannot be compared with others due to the incredible use of language and narration that jumps and goes wherever it wants to take you.

The omnipresent narrator is just as important as the characters. It's not what it tells you or why it does so, but how. That's what makes it special. There was a certain part in the middle where it takes a turn that at first I didn't understand what connection it had with the main story, but undoubtedly it's worth getting lost in it and then finding oneself again at the end. It is very moving and makes you empathize a lot despite the horrors that leave you perplexed at first.

Morrison's writing style is truly captivating, and her ability to create complex and vivid characters is remarkable. This book is a testament to her talent and is definitely worth reading for anyone who appreciates great literature.

Before my review, I have some random thoughts on some jazz albums in my collection. I am a huge fan of sixties jazz. I'm still undecided as to whether Blue Train or A Love Supreme is my favorite Coltrane album. He's definitely my favorite jazz musician. And I'm not going to enter the tired discussion of whether the latter or Miles' Kind of Blue is the greatest jazz album ever recorded. However, there are two very dear gems in my collection that usually aren't mentioned when discussing the top 10 albums of all time. One of them is Monk's Dream by Thelonius Monk, and the other is The Köln Concert by Keith Jarrett. I think these two albums are perfect introductions to what to expect when reading Toni Morrison's Jazz.

Neither of these albums, even though they are very important works, might be considered quintessential jazz albums. Compared to other albums in his catalog, Monk's Dream doesn't sound as progressive or brilliantly awkward. It's not even original as most of the tracks here had been previously released elsewhere. Nevertheless, it's still very tight and effortlessly complex. The key word is "effortless". It's as if the band had been playing those tracks for years and subconsciously knew each note, rhythm, and movement in perfect synchronicity, but still sounding like everything was improvised in one take. And as complex as some moments are, the overall music experience is very enjoyable and comfortable for the listener. On the other hand, The Köln Concert is a very gorgeous, trippy, and hypnotizing live album. It's elegant without any pretentiousness. Jarrett sounds as if he's rehearsing poem writing with his piano while spreading hallucinogens in the air.

Similarly, Morrison's Jazz is not her magnum opus, far from it. But the cadence, lyricism, and beauty of her written words are very Jarrett-like. At the same time, her writing is, while still technically very complex, as effortlessly complex as Monk's. She writes as if the words just write themselves and none is out of place, even if the reader at times has trouble grasping her continuous "free jazz" long streams of writing. The flow of the words has the same effect as listening to "Bright Mississipi" (my favorite track in Monk's Dream). Here's a sample:

  And when spring comes to the City people notice one another in the road; notice the strangers with whom they share aisles and tables and the space where intimate garments are laundered. Going in and out, in and out the same door, they handle the handle; on trolleys and park benches they settle thighs on a seat in which hundreds have done it too. Copper coins dropped in the palm have been swallowed by children and tested by gypsies, but it’s still money and people smile at that. It’s the time of year when the City urges contradiction most, encouraging you to buy street food when you have no appetite at all; giving you a taste for a single room occupied by you alone as well as a craving to share it with someone you passed in the street. Really there is no contradiction—rather it’s a condition: the range of what an artful City can do. What can beat bricks warming up to the sun? The return of awnings. The removal of blankets from horses’ backs. Tar softens under the heel and the darkness under bridges changes from gloom to cooling shade. After a light rain, when the leaves have come, tree limbs are like wet fingers playing in woolly green hair. Motor cars become black jet boxes gliding behind hoodlights weakened by mist. On sidewalks turned to satin figures move shoulder first, the crowns of their heads angled shields against the light buckshot that the raindrops are.

Yup, Jazz is definitely a very musical book, and Toni Morrison is as good at "playing music" with a pen as much as Coltrane is to "writing epic novels" with a tenor sax. But this is neither her A Love Supreme nor her Kind of Blue. The reason I don't give it 5 stars is because it still is a very uneven composition.

As for the plot/story, there are a lot of reviews out there that make a better summary. In this novel, the plot and the story are very irrelevant compared to the beautiful writing. Suffice it to say, this is a story of a passion between an old man and a young woman that ends in tragedy. And being an immigrant African American in the Harlem Renaissance era, it also has an historic imprint of past tragedies.

But it's better explained by the author herself in a single quote:

  Whatever happens, whether you get rich or stay poor, ruin your health or live to old age, you always end up back where you started: hungry for the one thing everybody loses - young loving.

**Expanded Article**

“We born around the same time, me and you,” said Violet. “We women, me and you. Tell me something real. Don’t just say I’m grown and ought to know. I don’t. I’m fifty and I don’t know nothing. What about it? Do I stay with him? I want to, I think. I want... well, I didn't always... now I want. I want some fat in this life.”

“Wake up. Fat or lean, you got just one. This is it.”

“You don’t know either, do you?”

“I know enough to know how to behave.”

“Is that it? Is that all it is?”

Perhaps, someone can help me with this, but despite all the talk of “change” and looking ahead and not allowing the past to entrap us in her preface, I see Morrison actually preoccupied with its reconstruction. In "Song of Solomon", the narrative linearly sails from Milkman’s childhood to adolescence, yet it is also preoccupied with the reconstruction of his ancestral history. On the other hand, in "Jazz", the story begins from the present and moves all the way back. There is no traditional plot; everything worth knowing in terms of “story” is mentioned in the first chapter, and what follows is what actually came first.

There is Joe Trace, haunted by the mother he never knew, remembering his attempts to “trace” his origins and finding them again in the youthful cheeks of his lover, Dorcas. Then there is Violet, his wife, an unlicensed beautician, childless, haunted by her grandmother’s stories of a golden-haired boy. Orphans abound in this novel, and it’s up to the reader to decide if they want to extend this "orphanhood" and read it as the existential condition of the African American of the '20s.

But as I lack any concrete knowledge of Morrison’s personal views, I realize it's crazy to jump to conclusions. The same evidence could be construed in a different way. Anyway, coming to the female body, in "Song of Solomon", Pilate lacks a navel and eases Milkman’s journey to his origins. In "Jazz", the “hoof marks” in Dorcas’ cheeks remind Joe of his mother. Morrison’s novels are feministic in their symbolism of the female body and how closely she associates her female characters to the search for self-actualization.

Structurally, unlike "Song of Solomon", "Jazz" is rather experimental and challenging. The narrative jumps back and forth between tenses, sometimes to the present-continuous as Morrison insists on “showing” rather than “describing”. She has employed different POVs, and we're alternately taken into the minds of her various characters. And it all flows like jazz music. If not as compelling and poetic as "Song of Solomon", Morrison’s fans will still appreciate this novel as it talks of love and the need for a little grace and acceptance to get through life.

Although this book is part of the larger "Beloved" trilogy, don't expect to see the ongoing adventures of Sethe or Denver. The connection in the Beloved trilogy, according to Morrison, is "the search for the beloved – the part of the self that is you, and loves you, and is always there for you." Less poetic but more to the point, the Beloved books appear to tell - through their characters' lives - the larger story of the African-American people after the Civil War and the abolishment of slavery.



“When they fall in love with a city it is for forever. As though there never was a time when they didn't love it. The minute they arrive at the train station or get off the ferry and glimpse the wide streets and the wasteful lamps lighting them, they know they are born for it. There, in a city, they are not so much new as themselves, their stronger, riskier selves. And in the beginning when they first arrive, and twenty years later when they and the city have grown up, they love that part of themselvers so much they forget what loving other people was like - if they ever knew, that is.”




Morrison's books, or at least the two that I have read - Beloved and Jazz - are challenging reads. They feel much longer and larger than their relatively short lengths. There are characters and a plot, yes. But as the New York Times said in a review of Morrison's first novel, The Bluest Eye, "the novel becomes poetry...(but) also history, sociology, folklore, nightmare and music." There is a lot to digest in each and every sentence in this book. Quite often I found myself reading each paragraph over multiple times. First, to grasp the overall meaning and how it advanced the story. But then again, often more than once, to enjoy the language and the rhythm and syncopation of the prose. Sometimes I even read the words out loud just to enjoy how they sounded.


The story starts abruptly, jaggedly, and then bounces around in time. You are left to pick your way through the story slowly and carefully, figuring out who everyone is and what is going on. Beneath the surface story, we are immersed in the setting of the Harlem Renaissance of the Jazz Age. Here, many African-Americans found a home for themselves away from the racist violence of small towns. "Jazz" is barely mentioned in the book, per se, but music is everywhere. It is a free form expression that sweeps listeners away with the promise of a brighter tomorrow. Morrison's rhythmic prose is said to have been consciously written to emulate the Jazz music of the time. Although, as my Goodreads friend aPriL said, it seems to have more to do with the freestyle bebop music of the 1940s than with the swing music of the 1920s.


Don't be confused by my four-star rating. This book is an ascendancy of language and much more than the story of a couple who lose and then find their love for each other. This is poetry, history, sociology, folklore, nightmare and music, glorious music for the soul. Words shaped by an artist into a whole that far exceeds the sum of its parts. When you enjoy a gourmet meal, the entre may not be your favorite food but you will nevertheless marvel at the virtuosity of the chef. Likewise, Jazz may not be your favorite music, but you will be swept away by the emotional power and mastery of the artist.

I got lost in all the lovely words, and I loved getting lost.

It's a minor note, yet it holds major emotions. The narrative glides down the perfect prose pathways and through the poetic passages to different destinations. It goes into one mind and out of another, into many minds. It travels past future, past future. Man, who knows where the next road goes? Probably somewhere bad, with tragedy and bloodshed and murder and all kinds of fucked up and twisted emotions. But it all reads so pretty.

Can I understand such things? I don't know, but I can try. This is a history of sorts; it also feels like a beautiful bad dream, my favorite kind. It's like a journey through the unknown, filled with both darkness and beauty. The words seem to dance on the page, leading me to places I've never been before.

I'm captivated by the story, even though it may be filled with pain and sorrow. It's a reminder that life is full of contradictions, and that sometimes, the most beautiful things can come from the ugliest of situations. I continue to read, eager to see where this adventure will take me.