Let me curl up on the floor and absorb all up what I’d just read. Toni Morrison and her ability to invent a real village or even a country, pull out every single person in the neighborhood, name them, characterized them and make everyone of them haunt in your head like they are real.
I’m pretty sure that I’m the last person on earth who read Beloved. And I am shook.
Beloved in my own eyes, is the complexity of life of African American. This book told a story about love in parallel with the tales of slavery in the mid 1800s, its aftershock, and its horror memories.
Beloved, or that thing or whatever it supposed to be, is the hardest thing to bear like nightmares and bad memories of slavery, the horrible things that black slaves had to tussle with over the years, the torture, the pain and the death during slave time. “because every mentioned of her past life hurt. Everything in it was painful or lost.” “because slave life had ‘busted her legs, back, head, eyes, hands, kidneys, womb and tongue’ she had nothing left to make a living with but her heart.”
This book is a symbol of “Love”, one woman, Sethe, who loves everything more than herself, love of her her children, her husbands and her nurturing quality was so profound. “When I stretched out my arms all my children could get in between.” Love also a murderer “I’d rather kill my children than let that fool put them in chains” she did what it was “right” that came from true love. And then Denver and her love of her mother. I’m always fascinated by the mother daughter relationship that Morrison interpret in all her books.
And then the love of God “human life is holy, all of it”
“Ella didn’t like the idea of past errors taking the possession of present” “The future was sunset; the past something to leave behind. And if it didn’t stay behind, well, you might have to stomp it out. Slave life; freed lifeーeveryday was a test and a trial. Nothing could be counted on in a world where even when you were a solution you were a problem.”