Ratings63
Average rating4.3
Milkman Dead was born shortly after a neighborhood eccentric hurled himself off a rooftop in a vain attempt at flight. For the rest of his life he, too, will be trying to fly. With this brilliantly imagined novel, Toni Morrison transfigures the coming-of-age story as audaciously as Saul Bellow or Gabriel García Márquez. As she follows Milkman from his rustbelt city to the place of his family’s origins, Morrison introduces an entire cast of strivers and seeresses, liars and assassins, the inhabitants of a fully realized black world.
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A delightful odyssey, a joy from start to finish. It's strange, it reminded me a bit of Murakami's writing style, the narrative continuously builds, almost every paragraph holds some new revelation about Milkman's universe and everyone associated with him. Different from Murakami of course is entirely believable characters everywhere, especially the females that constitute the backbone of the story and in a way Milkman himself. “What harm did I do you on my knee?” Continues to ring in my mind for some reason, thinking about the disturbing visions of both Milkman's parents. Continuously conflicting the reader with whether or not to sympathize or condemn the hateful Macon Dead, and be revolted or endeared to deranged Ruth Dead, in the end both are deeply flawed and fearful, nightmarish to read about. The same with Milkman's other two main compatriots, Hagar and Guitar, excellent characters who display nearly opposite forms of mania, Hagar's life dependent on the existence and love of one, Guitar's life dependent on vengeance and the killing of random others. Milkman himself to me became an enigma, I wasn't sure whether to pity him, cheer for him, scold him or deride him... But I saw myself in him all the same. It truly is a coming of age story, and I think the lesson finally learned in the end, spoken by the Judge Holden of the novel Pilate (who herself is, I think, the victory of Morrison's novel outside of Guitar's anti-villainism), is in her final words. Milkman finds community, the meaning of his life, when his life is already half over. Maybe I can find that a little sooner. This will be a fun reread someday.
I'm not sure I adore this quite as much as Beloved or Sula, but am so glad to have read it. Coming back to [b:Toni Morrison 6149 Beloved Toni Morrison http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1165555299s/6149.jpg 736076] after a couple years since my last read of hers, I was just blown away by a lot of this book. Reading this really made me wish I'd taken a course in college on black masculinity (did UVa offer such a thing?)...I think all feminists interested in the intersectionality of race, class, and gender (which has been coming up again and again on feministing, lately, as it should) would benefit from reading this. At times Morrison's portraits of decay in rural America throughout the novel reminded me of the best parts of Faulkner's Absalom, Absalom: slow, slightly mystical, and walking the fine line between chilling and uplifting.
I loved this book when I first read it Freshman year of college, and I still love it now. I decided to read it amidst the Virginia gubernatorial debacle to remember the details causing all the fuss.
And oh, did it come back... There are certainly some things that cause one to feel, euphemistically, uneasy: things of the Oedipal, incestuous variety. Also, murder. Also, race conflict. Which, in my personal opinion, all bound up in lovely prose and magical realism, makes for some fantastic reading. Based on the Song of Songs, it's a book all about Black love. It reads a lot like a reclamation of a biblical narrative, and it's a hard-hitting, beautiful novel. Can't recommend enough.