If You're Happy and You Know it Clap Your Hands

I have now finished the pantheon of Toni Morrison novels on the list. I’m actually rather sad. Bluest Eye, the first I read, is not a favorite, but from Beloved on (Song of Solomon, now Jazz, and to a lesser extent Sula), I have come to absolutely adore Toni Morrison.

Ultimately, I think most of her works are about love, not in a goopy, romance novel way AT ALL, but in all the rich complexity, all the ecstasy, all the pain, all the wonder, and all the hate of the many, many types of love (including self love and self hatred, and the justice that is what love looks like in public), and Jazz epitomizes that for me.

I have a weakness for novels that use other art forms to help structure their story (one of my two favorite books, God of Small Things, mirrors a Kathekali dance). I particularly like the solo improvisations in Jazz. Morrison is just masterful in the way that she uses jazz to enhance and maintain the force of the novel; it doesn’t feel even remotely artificial or gimmicky.

My favorite quote comes at the end (the last two paragraphs, essentially): I envy them their public love. I myself have only known it in secret, shared in secret and longed, aw longed to show it – to be able to say out loud what they have no need to say at all: That I have loved only you, surrendered my whole self reckless to you and nobody else. That I wanted you to love me back and show it to me. . . But I can’t say that aloud; I can’t tell anyone that I have been waiting for this all my life and that being chosen to wait is the reason I can. If I were able I'd say it. Say make me, remake me. You are free to do it and I am free to let you.

The declarative, linearity of Hemingway’s novel, Farewell to Arms, ways a strange experience after so many non-linear ones. I feel like I should have something to say about this. Hmm. It probably hurts that I’ve read several (yes, I am running behind; my bad). Let’s see. What happened in this novel.

I recall being annoyed at the one head nurse, thinking Keira Knightley should play the female lead if they do another movie version anytime soon, liking the fact that it ends tragically, and wanting to go to Italy. That’s really it. This is pretty terrible. I should remember more. I mean, I remember the main theme (the tragic nonsensical nature of war, individual tragedy/human suffering in the context of this suffering of humanity), but I’m not sure death in childbirth (which sort of isn’t necessarily all that connected to war) is the best way to show that. But hey, that could just be me.