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There are few authors that know how to break a reader’s heart and mind quite like Toni Morrison. Marking the final entry of her spiritual trilogy that includes [b:Beloved|6149|Beloved|Toni Morrison|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1347984578l/6149._SY75_.jpg|736076] and [b:Jazz|37398|Jazz|Toni Morrison|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1317531331l/37398._SX50_.jpg|1135883], [b:Paradise|5198|Paradise|Toni Morrison|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1558921210l/5198._SX50_.jpg|2458248] certainly ends with a bang.
Similar to the previous two novels, Paradise opens with a tragedy. While I do feel Beloved is still the strongest of the three, with each successive novel the characters cast as victims become increasingly complex, which makes for great layered drama and escalating stakes. Furthermore, as with the previous two novels, I do not think we are meant absolve the murderers of their sins. Rather, Morrison crafts narrative to better allow for the understanding of how cycles of suffering perpetuate themselves. Trauma begets trauma; it’s a tale so old it’s downright biblical.
Taking place in Oklahoma during the 1970’s in a very small town called Ruby, we are slowly introduced to a group of troubled women living in a “convent.” In actuality, this is a building that was originally built as an embezzler’s mansion. It was later repurposed to serve as a boarding school of indigenous girls (who were stolen from their actual families to be “civilized” and forget their culture) until the last girls run away. Then, it slowly fell into disarray until it's ruins became a place for troubled people, mainly women, to come for solace and respite.
I find this setting to serve as a greater metaphor for the town of Ruby itself. There are troubled origins for the small black town in a Southern state, but with the strict adherence to religion, settlers try to “reform” their setting into a greater creation. But that said, “A cross was no better than the bearer” (154). People who look to iron out a better life for themselves at the expense or exclusion of “lesser” humans, are by no means truly virtuous. If your goodness rests on looking down on people who have culturally different values than you, then you probably aren’t such a good person, and no amount of religious righteousness is going to assuage those feelings of insecurity.
Each of the women who arrive at the convent are inherently flawed, but all they want is to live safely anew and in peace, and they are able to tentatively build such a space for themselves. While they congregate on the outskirts of town, the people in Ruby become increasingly vexed as their presence threatens the town’s rigid social structure. The women are called “witches” and “bitches,” and with their systematic dehumanization in the eyes of the angry men, so too comes demise and tragedy.
I think that the path that leads to this tension is best summarized with the following conversation:
“’...There was a whole lot of life before slavery. And we ought to know what it is. If we’re going to get rid of the slave mentality that is.’
‘You’re wrong and if that’s your field you are plowing wet. Slavery is our past. Nothing can change that, certainly not Africa.’
‘We live in the world Pat. The whole world. Separating us, isolating us—that’s always been their weapon. Isolation kills generations. It has no future.’
‘You don’t think they love their children?’
Misner stroked his upper lip and heaved a long sigh. ‘I think they love them to death.’” (210)
The past is ever present and lies not just within historic texts, but within the vitality of everyday life. I think that it’s normal to put up walls after experiencing trauma—the body keeps the score after all. Morrison presents this very real response on the societal level, I believe to demonstrate how unprocessed trauma can manifest into something even more tragic. In an effort to avoid being a victim, protective anger can morph a once well-intentioned individual into the villain. Especially if you feel emboldened by your beliefs that you are inherently superior to people who don't fit the mold.
Overall, I found this to be a fascinating meditation on generational trauma and religion. I highly recommend this and pretty much everything else I’ve ever read by Toni Morrison. She’s a genius who lives up to her hype and then some.
Similar to the previous two novels, Paradise opens with a tragedy. While I do feel Beloved is still the strongest of the three, with each successive novel the characters cast as victims become increasingly complex, which makes for great layered drama and escalating stakes. Furthermore, as with the previous two novels, I do not think we are meant absolve the murderers of their sins. Rather, Morrison crafts narrative to better allow for the understanding of how cycles of suffering perpetuate themselves. Trauma begets trauma; it’s a tale so old it’s downright biblical.
Taking place in Oklahoma during the 1970’s in a very small town called Ruby, we are slowly introduced to a group of troubled women living in a “convent.” In actuality, this is a building that was originally built as an embezzler’s mansion. It was later repurposed to serve as a boarding school of indigenous girls (who were stolen from their actual families to be “civilized” and forget their culture) until the last girls run away. Then, it slowly fell into disarray until it's ruins became a place for troubled people, mainly women, to come for solace and respite.
I find this setting to serve as a greater metaphor for the town of Ruby itself. There are troubled origins for the small black town in a Southern state, but with the strict adherence to religion, settlers try to “reform” their setting into a greater creation. But that said, “A cross was no better than the bearer” (154). People who look to iron out a better life for themselves at the expense or exclusion of “lesser” humans, are by no means truly virtuous. If your goodness rests on looking down on people who have culturally different values than you, then you probably aren’t such a good person, and no amount of religious righteousness is going to assuage those feelings of insecurity.
Each of the women who arrive at the convent are inherently flawed, but all they want is to live safely anew and in peace, and they are able to tentatively build such a space for themselves. While they congregate on the outskirts of town, the people in Ruby become increasingly vexed as their presence threatens the town’s rigid social structure. The women are called “witches” and “bitches,” and with their systematic dehumanization in the eyes of the angry men, so too comes demise and tragedy.
I think that the path that leads to this tension is best summarized with the following conversation:
“’...There was a whole lot of life before slavery. And we ought to know what it is. If we’re going to get rid of the slave mentality that is.’
‘You’re wrong and if that’s your field you are plowing wet. Slavery is our past. Nothing can change that, certainly not Africa.’
‘We live in the world Pat. The whole world. Separating us, isolating us—that’s always been their weapon. Isolation kills generations. It has no future.’
‘You don’t think they love their children?’
Misner stroked his upper lip and heaved a long sigh. ‘I think they love them to death.’” (210)
The past is ever present and lies not just within historic texts, but within the vitality of everyday life. I think that it’s normal to put up walls after experiencing trauma—the body keeps the score after all. Morrison presents this very real response on the societal level, I believe to demonstrate how unprocessed trauma can manifest into something even more tragic. In an effort to avoid being a victim, protective anger can morph a once well-intentioned individual into the villain. Especially if you feel emboldened by your beliefs that you are inherently superior to people who don't fit the mold.
Overall, I found this to be a fascinating meditation on generational trauma and religion. I highly recommend this and pretty much everything else I’ve ever read by Toni Morrison. She’s a genius who lives up to her hype and then some.