I have to admit, I have been averse to reading a Toni Morrison novel since just about the time I became literate. There's no valid reason for this; I tend not to like things that everybody and their mother praises until I finally cave and try them and realize that there is in fact a very good reason that everybody and their mother praises them. I'd give examples, but I'm fresh out. And anyway, this is about Toni Morrison right now! And to get back to her, I've proved myself correct again: I am absolutely insane for not listening to everybody and their mother much earlier, because Toni Morrison is great. Great! Just great.

I picked up this book based solely on the title. I've been trying to get an understanding of love for quite some time (cf. my recent journal post, "Spooning for Spooning's Sake and the Death of Love"), and things had been going relatively poorly. I've read bunches of heterosexual love stories and came out empty. I tried stories written by men, nothing. Stories written by women, still nothing. The straights gave me nothing, so I tried the gays, and gay love stories were almost even less helpful than the straight ones! (As a gay man, this left me disappointed.) So, I thought I'd try to see if the African-American woman had anything to say about it, and I figured Ms. Morrison was as good a bet as any.

I can't say that I finally understand why some people just don't fall in love with other some other people (*cough*me*cough*) or why love makes you do some of the things you do (*cough*delete things like myspace and LJ in fits of rage*cough*), but I can see why Love made some people (*cough*me again*cough*) spark for Toni Morrison. The characters are so elegantly wrought that each story seems clear, lucid, full. Complete. There are quite a few characters that span quite a few generations, and to be able to explore them all so thoroughly in such a short novel is quite the feat. The plot, too, is finely done: it unravels at a perfect pace, glances coyly at its reader from behind a veil before lifting the fabric and revealing what lies underneath. Never once did I feel the story slow or bore or lag. Finally, the narration is extremely interesting: most of the book is told from third-person limited, but who exactly limits the view changes based on chapters, paragraphs, even sentences. At times, though, Love breaks into an italicized first-person narration, and it is this narrator that appeals the most to me, whose words I found myself highlighting most often.

I read the novel in spurts, though, and I think this affected greatly my appreciation and understanding of the novel. I've been having a rough week or two and because of that, basically everything I've done has been splintered and tainted with not-so-happy feelings, and I really want to read the novel again, in as short an amount of time as possible. As I said, the plot really does slowly undress itself, and I'd like to see now if I can catch glimpses earlier on of later events, to take my completed knowledge of the novel and apply it to the bits earlier on and see if they shed any more light on Love, the book if not the phenomenon.

The end of the novel leaves a bit of plot unwrapped, though, and that may put a few readers off. Myself, I like to see everything wrapped up. Even if things don't end happily, I like things to end: I hate being able to ask, "So what happened with... ?" Nevertheless, I didn't mind it quite as much as I thought I would have with this novel, and if your trepidation that the ending may leave you hanging is the only thing preventing you from reading this little ditty, get over it pronto and get the book and read it. Personally, I plan to fall into Love again quite soon, and as often as possible!

(Sorry, I had to get at least one cheesy pun in there. You were expecting it. Admit it.)