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.