I actually feel bad for not liking this, but the characters are truly horrible. There is so little actual story to engage with.

Take the relationship between Jadine and Son, for example. It is just awful. He creeps into her house and watches her sleep, and then sexually assaults her in one of the most uncomfortable scenes I have ever read. And yet, she forgives him because he gets a haircut. What kind of sense does that make? Was their so-called "love" just a stupid power struggle about who was right?

And then there's the whole thing about the baby having pins stuck in him. What was the point of that? Was it just to make the rich white people seem as horrible as everyone else? It all felt so contrived and unnecessary.

I really wanted an ending where everyone got what they deserved. But unfortunately, that didn't happen. The story just seemed to fizzle out without any real resolution or satisfaction. It was a real disappointment.

Wow. I am truly amazed by this book.

It has such profound and engaging content that I know I shall be needing to sleep on it.

I need time to process all the ideas and emotions it has evoked within me.

As I close the book, I find myself still lost in its world, thinking about the characters and their stories.

The author's writing style is so captivating that it has drawn me in from the very first page.

I can't wait to continue exploring this book and see where it takes me.

For now, though, I think it's time to let my mind rest and let the thoughts and images from the book soak in.

Maybe in my dreams, I'll find new insights and perspectives on this wonderful piece of literature.

I shall be looking forward to picking up this book again tomorrow and delving deeper into its mysteries.

Toni Morrison's writing style in "Tar Baby" is truly captivating. She weaves a complex and engaging story that delves into themes of sex, colonialism, and love. The characters are well-developed and the dialogues are incredibly realistic, making it easy for the reader to become immersed in their lives.

One of the things I love about Morrison's writing is her use of vivid imagery and powerful metaphors. For example, when she describes the plants in the greenhouse reacting to the music, it creates a beautiful and almost magical scene. The description of the house as both closed and wide open, like an ear, is also a great metaphor that adds depth to the story.

The relationships between the characters are also a major focus of the book. The racism that exists within the web of relationships is explored in a thought-provoking way, as is the sordid family history that comes to light. The love story between Son and Jadine is both passionate and tumultuous, and their journey together is full of ups and downs.

Overall, "Tar Baby" is a fantastic novel that I would highly recommend to anyone who enjoys reading well-written and engaging stories. It is a book that will stay with you long after you have finished reading it.

The opening of this book was an absolute astonishment to me, a moderately experienced TM reader. It felt precisely like the commencement of an action-packed movie, a sort of spy thriller, yet infused with a poetic allure. This atmosphere endured to some extent; perhaps due to Valerian, the white millionaire, who, even when likable, somehow sports an arch-villain halo. I also discovered the dialogue to be lively and often humorous, the tone frequently light.

So, is it a light book? Absolutely not. From the tumultuous, animistic, and gorgeous portrayal of the island itself, suffering under colonization, with the rivers and trees crying out, mourning, and stormily remaking themselves, something profound, treacherous, and elemental is transpiring. If books offer us assistance, if they do more than merely distract, then they must touch upon wounds, dredge up the hidden, and give voice to the silenced.

The state of disarray my soul is in now, after reading this, is a sublime one. Thoughts and emotions collide with greater force, push each other further apart, creating space, lowering density, so that I float into a state of euphoric agitation, an overactive susceptibility to connection. My eyes brush against others during the commute with an electric jolt, and I hear my own heart in the hailstorm.

Each person in this story evokes both love and contempt from me, alternately calling out humility and self-awareness. Awareness of my whiteness, cis woman-ness, ignorance, and misuses of knowledge and feeling. This statement about beauty that rings so true, in the context of despair, is: "At some point in life the world's beauty becomes enough. You don't need to photograph, paint or even remember it. It is enough. No record of it needs to be kept and you don't need someone to share it with or tell it to. When that happens — that letting go — you let go because you can." My first thought was, that's why I stopped taking photographs. "Through the camera, World’s flat. Circumnavigate your experience." But then I thought this insight is not meant to be an eternal truth – it is a truth of horror and mourning. And I had my own, secondary insight: truths belong to times and states. "Even dreams are true while they last. And do we not live in dreams?" And they change shape, when the light changes at evening or when somebody makes you laugh.

Taking the perspective of one character after another (all of whom are real and alive as if TM had no choice but to write down what they did, had to do, after she had so marvelously conjured them into being), the narration weaves a fabric so exquisite and magical that the arbitrary becomes necessary. TM can remake the sacred from dry dust and its history of pain.

I loathed myself for hating the young educated black woman Jadine. I liked Son, who values his South-USian extended family, but with deep reservations. I cheered him on at times, but he has many flaws, even in his good aspects. When he thinks about the women of his hometown building things, being strong and capable and thus impossible to position as inferior to men, his ascription of value is ableist. His passion makes him cut himself off at the root from self-knowledge and the nourishment of love.

The white woman character, Margaret, was somewhat neglected as a child because her family assumed that with beauty she would not need character. She is stereotypically afraid of Son, the young, beautiful black man, and TM shows how the vulnerability of her racial and gendered identity is turned into a weapon against him. I felt for her even though she is irritating and emotionally disturbed.

In Paris, Jadine stares at an African woman whose eyelashes, we are told, have been burned away by the power of her gaze. The woman buys three eggs and aims spit at Jadine from well out of range, a gesture of hatred. She and her eggs reappear in a nightmare vision Jadine has in which all the other women she knows show her their breasts. Both the scene of the African woman and the nightmare linger for me, enigmatic, searing. I cannot sort them out. But lately I have noticed that I can go back into old experiences and get new things out of them. Someday I will figure out these scenes and find my sympathy for Jadine.

Those carrying the frightening weight of beauty; Son, Jadine, and Margaret, are compelling characters, but the book has others – Sydney, the dignified butler, Ondine, the expert cook, both a little self-righteous and snobby; Gideon the ‘yard man’ and Therese the washerwoman and helper, poor folks, undereducated, gossip-hungry, generous, and kind. Importantly, they connect to the land, the land seized from the natives, the land where slaves were brought, the land that sustained those captives who never surrendered.

My least favorite Morrison so far.

I did appreciate the different ways the characters chose to survive being black in a white world.

Some characters followed the rules and tried to get ahead using the system's own methods, while others rebelled and rejected everything that came from the white world.

Morrison's portrayal of these different strategies was nuanced and thought-provoking.

She didn't simply villainize Jade for her choice to follow the rules, even though it's clear that she ultimately sides with Son's more rebellious approach.

This shows Morrison's ability to present complex characters and situations without resorting to easy stereotypes or judgments.

Despite my overall lack of enthusiasm for this particular work, I still respect Morrison's talent and her willingness to explore difficult and controversial topics.

Perhaps with further reading, I will come to appreciate this novel more.

Count on Toni Morrison to pen a love story that will utterly devastate you. Son stealthily enters the home of Valerian and Margaret Street, a prosperous white couple who are patrons to Jadine, a young Black model and scholar. When Son is detected, the household is compelled to step out of their "we-don't-see-color" bubble, and chaos promptly ensues.

The narrative is rich, and the characters are equally intricate and clichéd. My favorite segments of this book were Son's internal monologues, particularly one that takes place at the dinner table with Son, the Streets, Jadine, Ondine, and Sydney (the Streets' maid and butler). In this monologue, Son watches Valerian chew a piece of ham, and his thoughts race. He reflects on how Valerian has dismissed the people whose labor in growing sugar and cocoa has allowed him to live in comfort, yet he has turned their work into candy and made a fortune. Son criticizes the Streets' attitude towards property and their disregard for the land and the people who work on it.

I adored this book because it combines the vintage and the modern. The characters belong to a different era, but their thoughts are more pertinent than ever. I believe that if you have never read Toni Morrison, this is an excellent starting point as it is accessible and provides a good preview of Morrison's more complex lyricism and magical realism, which were initially barriers for me in her other works.

The book contains beautiful and profound quotes, such as "For if he loved and lost this woman whose sleeping face was the limit his eyes could safely behold and whose wakened face threw him into confusion, he would surely lose the world." and "No man should live without absorbing the sins of his kind, the foul air of his innocence, even if it did wilt rows of angel trumpets and cause them to fall from their vines." These quotes add depth and beauty to the story and make it a truly memorable read.

Everyone knows that Beloved is Toni Morrison's most famous work.

However, I would firmly argue that Tar Baby is even better.

This remarkable book is filled with a plethora of relationships, each having numerous layers.

Love, sex, race, gender, class, ethnicity, and even geography - Morrison fearlessly takes on all these aspects in this beautiful story.

Of course, there are always those breathtaking passages that Morrison's writing unfailingly produces.

Tar Baby is an absolute must-read.

If you have the privilege of belonging to a book club that isn't afraid of a little exploration of sex, I highly suggest this for your next book choice.

I guarantee that you will be completely engrossed and never want to stop discussing it.

The complex and multifaceted nature of the relationships and themes in Tar Baby make it a truly captivating and thought-provoking read.

It offers a deep and profound exploration of the human condition, touching on so many important aspects of our lives.

Morrison's masterful writing brings the story to life, making it an unforgettable experience for the reader.

So, don't miss out on the opportunity to discover the beauty and power of Tar Baby.

I simply can't stomach a book in which I'm expected to accept that a woman falls in love with a man who essentially sexually assaults her, and whose justification for it is explicitly that he was so in awe of her that he needed to debase her.

This is the core of the "romantic relationship" at the center of this book. While the book is critical of the gender dynamics in Jadine and Son's relationship as they attempt to sort out whose world they will live in and whose relationship model they will take, I think it still left uncriticized the notion that women are attracted to sexually violent men (provided they are attractive). What is the turning point that makes Jadine overlook Son's assault? She sees him after a bath and a haircut, and he is good looking.

This is the problematic center of a book whose edges I enjoyed. Much of the action on the island has the feeling of a drawing room drama. By seeing the reactions of many characters to the same events in the same space, Morrison demonstrates the way in which character's privilege blinds them to the experiences of those around them. Particularly interesting is the complexity with which she approaches questions of race and class. Even Black servants have people who are beneath their notice, and each person is motivated to diminish the humanity of those below them in order to maintain their status. If I ignore Son's assault on Jadine, the conflict between their life experiences and their attempt to come to a consensus about how to live as Black person in America (which is shaped, too, by gender politics, as Son attempts to remove Jadine from a life in which she is the primary breadwinner and mover in the public sphere) takes potentially abstract conflicts and makes them concrete by putting them in a relationship.

The writing is lush but straightforward. It's been a while since I've read Morrison's other books, but this felt like an early point in the development of her prose.

But at the end of the day, I felt like this book trivialized sexual violence, and I find it hard to square that with all of the other excellent elements of it. I believe that sexual violence is a serious issue that should not be glossed over or romanticized in any way. While the book may have other redeeming qualities, such as its exploration of race, class, and gender dynamics, the way in which it presents the relationship between Jadine and Son is deeply troubling and makes it difficult for me to fully appreciate the book as a whole.

She doesn't miss.

This simple statement holds a certain power. It implies that there is something or someone that she has chosen not to long for or pine after.

Maybe it's a past relationship that she has decided to let go of, realizing that dwelling on it would only hold her back. Or perhaps it's a missed opportunity that she has come to terms with, understanding that there are always more in the future.

Whatever the case may be, her ability to not miss speaks volumes about her strength and resilience. It shows that she is able to look forward with a clear mind and an open heart, ready to embrace whatever comes her way.

In a world where so many people are constantly looking back and regretting, she stands out as a beacon of hope and inspiration.

The world will be there while you sleep. This is true for you as well…the world will be here, but certainly not as rich or as full. But it will be here as you rest. - Tar Baby.

This is Toni Morrison's most romantic work - and her most underrated. This gem of a novel, which has not been written about as much as her other masterpieces like "Beloved", "Jazz", "The Bluest Eye" and "Song of Solomon", is set in the Caribbean in the 1970s.

The book is about Jadine, a beautiful, black woman who is taken care of by the wealthy Street family. Jadine is a model, ambitious and extremely bougie. She falls for Son, a dark-skinned, mysterious man. Their love affair begins in the Caribbean, Eloe, Florida and New York. It is color that both drives them together and apart, making this book unforgettable.

I have been revisiting novels by Toni Morrison lately because there isn't a writer out there who can make you laugh with such bawdy humor and then make an unexpected turn to unimaginable heartbreak.

At this more closely rendered reading, I was spellbound by the lushness of Morrison's prose. Her description of the setting, especially Isle des Chevaliers, is lush, thick and romantic. The humidity evokes both plantation beauty and horror, even though it is set in the Caribbean.

The relationships that revolve around Jadine speak plainly of whiteness as the construct that must be respected and seen as the be all and end all. Jadine has a Swedish boyfriend named Ryk, a modelling career that takes her between Paris and New York, and a life of luxury offered by the candy magistrate Valerian Street and his unstable, scheming wife Margaret.

Jadine's aunt and uncle Sydney and Ondine are employed by the Streets and bow before them to survive, playing out the trope of master vs slave. When she meets Son, a stowaway American fugitive from Eloe, Florida, Jadine's views on privilege and race are questioned as Son tries to acclimate her to that world.

Son and Jadine's views on freedom and sexual politics come into conflict when she attempts to change him and he tries to get her in touch with her black roots. Since her life has always been taught in the white construct, the novel is both sorrowful and cynical about the fact that the matter of race will never be agreed on.

Poetic and romantic, erotic seen through the female lens, the shades of grey that come with race relations are never easy to navigate. At the end, it seems everyone loses out, only to feel longing and regret. One of the most romantic moments in literature is that magical night when Jadine and Son talk about the stars.

“Imagine something. Something that fits in the dark. Say the dark is the sky at night. Imagine something in it.” “A star?” “Yes.” “I can’t. I can’t see it.” “Okay. Don’t try to see it. Try to be it. Would you like to know what it’s like to be one? Be a star?” “A movie star?” “No, a star star. In the sky. Keep your eyes closed, think about what it feels like to be one.” Stars just throb and throb and throb and sometimes, when they can’t throb anymore, when they can’t hold it anymore, they fall out of the sky.” (Morrison 214)

I melt each time I read this. Every word is unabashedly romantic and has a tone of sadness. I feel that Morrison must have loved Son enough to give him such a rich monologue. It reminds me of monologues that other male characters she’s written in other books have similarly declared about the world around them. Love comes and goes, and it's the connection that Jadine and Son have in this moment that makes me think Morrison was one of the greatest and most romantic of writers.

I may be alone in this opinion, but Tar Baby is truly up there with Beloved as one of Toni Morrison's most beloved works.

Tar Baby is a complex and multi-layered novel that delves deep into themes of race, class, and identity. Morrison's writing is as beautiful and lyrical as ever, painting a vivid picture of the characters and their relationships.

The story follows the lives of Jadine, a young black woman living in Paris, and Son, a black man from the South. Their relationship is a tumultuous one, filled with passion, conflict, and misunderstanding. Through their experiences, Morrison explores the ways in which race and class shape our lives and our perceptions of each other.

Like Beloved, Tar Baby is a powerful and thought-provoking novel that challenges readers to think about the world around them. It is a must-read for anyone interested in African American literature or in exploring the human condition.

"O bir insan, beyaz bir adam değil. Beni okuttu o."

This year, one of the best things that happened to me was - albeit late - meeting Toni Morrison. Since I wanted to gradually approach her most cult books, I'm wandering around a bit nervously. I'm aware, and I like this kind of slightly cowardly behavior. When I reach her beloved ones like "The Bluest Eye", I want to know Morrison a little, about her.

I also met "Beloved" which is not one of her most popular novels with this purpose in mind, and I also loved this book very much. What a multi-layered novel - how well it is woven, how well it is unraveled, how well the characters are written. The description of "small, black dogs running at a storm on silver feet" that she used several times to describe fear - how it intensifies the tension she tells, what a powerful image it is!

The book starts with the story of wealthy - and white - Valerian who spends his old age with his wife Margaret on an isolated island and the - black - husband and wife Sydney and Ondine who have served them for years. Then the niece of the servant couple, Jadine, and an illegal man enter the narrative and completely new layers are added to the story.

Racism, as in all of Morrison's books, is also in the foreground in this narrative. But what makes Morrison Morrison, in my opinion, is the ability to deal with the thousand and one forms of racism. For example, there is also the racism that blacks are exposed to by blacks in this book. Since she also throws in class, social gender dynamics, and daily power practices (which she does in almost every novel and always with great skill), the subject is never racism in the sense we know, and it never becomes one-dimensional. "Beloved" is also like that. Love, motherhood, old age and such themes also enter under this roof, and she dances all of them so beautifully with each other. To be able to tell such great themes without being didactic, without tiring, by working them into the human being... It's really a very strange ability.

This book is worth reading just for that magnificent Christmas dinner section where everyone sits at the table and the great secret of the story comes out. The way of writing the 25-year-old secret; the crimes, sins, memories that are much older and are worked into the characters when that secret is revealed... Wow.

I think you should read it.