Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, 24 lip 2007 - 320
"Rumors had been whispered for more than a year. Outrages that had been accumulating all along took shape as evidence. A mother was knocked down the stairs by her cold-eyed daughter. Four damaged infants were born in one family. Daughters refused to get out of bed. Brides disappeared on their honeymoons. Two brothers shot each other on New Year's Day. Trips to Demby for VD shots common. And what went on at the Oven these days was not to be believed . . . The proof they had been collecting since the terrible discovery in the spring could not be denied: the one thing that connected all these catastrophes was in the Convent. And in the Convent were those women."
In Paradise--her first novel since she was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature--Toni Morrison gives us a bravura performance. As the book begins deep in Oklahoma early one morning in 1976, nine men from Ruby (pop. 360), in defense of "the one all-black town worth the pain," assault the nearby Convent and the women in it. From the town's ancestral origins in 1890 to the fateful day of the assault, Paradise tells the story of a people ever mindful of the relationship between their spectacular history and a void "Out There . . . where random and organized evil erupted when and where it chose." Richly imagined and elegantly composed, Paradise weaves a powerful mystery.
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I was eager to manipulate, mutate and control imagistic, metaphoric language in
order to produce something that could be called race-specific/race-free prose,
language that deactivated the power of racially inflected strategies—transform ...
We called him Big Papa. He stood in the vegetable garden peeling a yam with
his pocketknife. Then he ate the raw slices slowly, carefully. If he wanted the chair
you were in, he stood there, silent, looking at the sitter until you got the message
... they got back to the States, they took it apart, carrying the bricks, the
hearthstone and its iron plate two hundred and forty miles west—far far from the
old Creek Nation which once upon a time a witty government called “unassigned
The stranger's lipstick smirked sloppily from the cardboard rim. The Cadillac
drank ten gallons of gasoline every ninety miles. Mavis wondered whether to call
her mother or simply arrive. The latter seemed smarter. Frank may have called
Frank may have called his mother-in-law by now or might do so any minute.
Better if her mother could say truthfully, “I don't know where she is.” Paterson took
five hours, not three, and she had four dollars and seventy-six cents when she
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LibraryThing ReviewRecenzja użytkownika - Frenzie - LibraryThing
Paradise opens with a scapegoat massacre. "They shoot the white girl first. With the rest they can take their time." Who that white girl is, is left for the reader to decide. I suppose the mystery is ... Przeczytaj pełną recenzję
LibraryThing ReviewRecenzja użytkownika - jkdavies - LibraryThing
A difficult subject, or couple of subjects really, to write about in alcoholism and adultery, and especially to write in a way that is both realistic and sympathetic, and without resorting to "bad ... Przeczytaj pełną recenzję