I’ve always been a Toni Morrison fan; I particularly adored Beloved and The Bluest Eye.  Reading these books was a journey for me, painful at so many times, but oh so worth the trip.  Morrison’s writing is a work of art, exquisite from topic to pacing to prose.

So I expected a lot from Home – a big mistake there, expectations.  Home is different.  Perhaps because the protagonist is male, I didn’t feel the same emotional intensity as I did reading those earlier books, but I certainly felt something.  I liked the characters – a Korean War vet who is very slowly emerging from the horror of the war, and the little sister who has always been his touchstone to humanness.  I loved the theme of overcoming adversity through sheer force of will.  And I loved the writing.  Once I gave up on expectations and simply enjoyed, I was fully on board.  Home is another Toni Morrison gem, capturing time and place with prose that is at once resonant and blunt.  This book has stayed with me; I think of it still, perhaps because it ends on such a note of hope.