Toni Morrison during the autograph session in the L’arbre a Lettres bookstore on May, 12, 2009 in Paris, France (Shutterstock).
The universe that we’ve inherited from Toni Morrison is: The pell mell swoon of Jazz and its mysterious crazy in love triangle set against the backdrop of the Great Migration of African Americans to NYC, caught up in its golden glow and cruel tease; the Blue-eyed devastation of Pecola, dreaming her truth, against incest, in the grinding poverty of segregationist Ohio; The twisted bond and ride or die Sula-passion between two dramatically different black women; one f**k-you mad, one respectable and maybe veering towards madness; The elusive thrum of Paradise in an all-black town pulsing in the terror of the Middle Passage where Black women’s fight for self-determination, bodily autonomy, and the Beloved blasted the white gaze to bits.
On my desk, I have a picture of Morrison with one of her…
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