Song Of Solomon: A Novel (Everyman's Library Classics) (urspr publ 1977; utgåvan 1995)

Very readable for a Morrison so that’s a bonus for a start, even though it does bear her trademark style. If you’ve not read her before, this is a great place to start, and in the current climate, it should be on any white person’s required reading list.

In a northern US black community, the novel centres on Macon Dead, a man who goes in search of his past and, in doing so, confronts questions about his identity.

For the first time, Morrison brought me face to face with the issue of identity for the African American community for whom the idea of family history is not a simple matter at all. The complexities are reinforced no doubt by the insistence of every white person in the US to define themselves not as a US citizen primarily but some bizarre concoction of (usually) European nations.

“Hi, I’m Emily. I’m quarter Dutch, half Irish, six eighths Belgian and have a smattering of Italian on my father’s side.”

If they’re feeling particularly woke, they might add

“And my grandmother was half Navajo.”

But for someone imported at the whim of a plantation owner, family history might be a complete blank despite the incredibly strong tribal roots that many people will have been torn from. In that perspective, the search for identity becomes much more important and Solomon portrays this very well.

While the storyline is not entirely straightforward, the novel is moving and Macon is a very tangible character. This might sound a strange thing to say about a character. But, if you’ve never read Morrison before, you won’t be familiar with her tendency to write settings and characters that can feel as tangible as air (see Beloved for more).

Nevertheless, for all that the newbie to Morrison will find to hold on to here, you’ll still have to deal with some elements of magic-realism and transcendence of what we might term reality. For those forcibly ripped from their homelands though, it’s entirely appropriate that reality is best described intangibly. ( )

Dang. This one left me reeling a little. Morrison is honestly one of THE BEST American writers in our literary history. She creates a narrative and a mythology regarding a family, and she teases you with little bits throughout until you find yourself captivated by this incredible story. And then she gives you an ending that is both unsatisfying and fulfilling AT THE SAME TIME. It's a puzzle, and she does it better than anybody. Song of Solomon starts off slow but it picks up speed, and the characters gain clarity and poignancy as the story moves on. The end of the book feels like the end of Darren Aronofsky's film The Wrestler: you think you know how it will end, but you're really not sure. It's abrupt, and you as the reader are left to fill in the blanks.

This is a book that, like many of Morrison's others, is best read with patience and curiosity. The payoff was worthwhile. Not a starting point if you've never read Morrison, but definitely a must-read if you're a fan. 4.5 stars. ( )

bailed after 1st chaper.

Toni Morrison’s third novel was written in response to her father’s death, and was her first book to focus predominantly on male characters. In her essay, The Site of Memory, Morrison wrote, “But it seemed to me that there was this big void after he died, and I filled it with a book that was about men … But I created a male world and inhabited it and it had this quest--a journey from stupidity to epiphany, of a man, a complete man. It was my way of exploiting all that, of trying to figure out what he may have known.”

Milkman is the youngest child of Ruth and Macon Dead. Ruth’s father was a well-known doctor; Macon’s mother died in childbirth and his father was murdered by whites. Macon earns his living as landlord for low-rent homes in the city’s Black community, and considers his relative financial success as something that sets him apart from his tenants. He is a tough landlord and a difficult husband and father. And then there’s Macon’s sister, Pilate, who lives nearby with her daughter Reba and granddaughter Hagar. Macon is estranged from Pilate and forbids his children from seeing her.

Milkman enters adulthood with little knowledge of the dynamics operating within his family. As he comes to understand some of his history, he feels compelled to discover his roots (the possibility of financial gain is also a strong motivator). Thus begins a journey, a sort of quest, in which Milkman retraces the path of his ancestors, as best he can determine by piecing together family legend. Like any good quest, he discovers much more about himself along the way.

This is a richer, more layered story than I have described here, populated with a cast of memorable characters. I know Morrison was intentionally placing men at the center of this book, but I can’t help wishing she’d also written a full-length novel focused on Pilate, a strong and colorful woman if there ever was one. ( )

There are some great characters in this book but I have to confess the story line didn’t really develop for me until the last quarter of the book. Nevertheless it was a genuine pleasure to listen to this book read by the author herself in a slow evocative narration.
Maicon Dead is a black real estate magnate in a northern city in Michigan and he married the classiest black woman he could find. Ruth was the daughter of a black doctor who was revered among the black community. They had two daughters and after a long hiatus a son also named Macon but called Milkman by everyone (for a reason gone into in the book). Macon the elder was not raised in Michigan; he and his sister Pilate grew up in a small rural community in Pennsylvania but when they were quite young their father was shot and killed. Their mother had died giving birth to Pilate so they were alone in the world. After sheltering for a while with the local black healer and midwife they left together because they could not show their faces in the community or they would also be killed. The brother and sister became separated with Macon going north and Pilate travelling around the US. By the time Milkman is born Pilate has also moved to Chicago. She with her daughter and granddaughter operate an unlicensed wine shop out of an old house that has no electricity or running water. Macon doesn’t want anything to do with his sister and has forbidden Milkman to see her but of course Milkman is drawn to this mysterious aunt. He and his buddy Guitar become frequent visitors and Milkman becomes romantically involved with the granddaughter who is about his age. Years pass; Milkman becomes an essential part of the father’s business but longs to do something else. When he breaks off his relationship with his cousin she becomes enraged and vows to kill him. Milkman does then leave Michigan and follows his family’s northward path in reverse. He tracks down the truth and myth of his grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s origins. Excited by his discoveries he returns home to tell his father and his aunt what he has learned.
Names are important in this story. Sometimes names are changed and sometimes they are chosen. Biblical names are common; Pilate’s name was chosen by her illiterate father out of the Bible when she was born. The slip of paper on which he wrote the name carefully copied from the text of the Bible is cherished by her. Milkman’s sisters’ names were also chosen from the Bible with one of them being called First Corinthians. The story of Milkman’s own nickname is an important part of his background story. His great-grandfather’s name was changed after emancipation. The family story includes the fact of the changing but not what it was changed from. I imagine Morrison draws attention to naming to highlight how Africans brought as slaves to the US were named by the slave owners usually using the white owner’s last name as the slaves’ last name. It is the ultimate proof of freedom to choose a name for one’s own children but that is something whites take for granted.
Morrison also incorporates elements of the supernatural into this story. Pilate hears a message from her dead father; there is a story about the slave great-grandfather leaping into the sky and flying back to Africa. I’ve noticed this in some other more contemporary works by African-Americans (such as Ta-Nehisi Coates’ The Water Dancer and The Underground Railway by Colson Whitehead) I’m not sure if this is a trend that Morrison started or if it is a long-standing tradition in black storytelling. Something to explore. ( )