She got out of bed and lit the lamp to look in the mirror. There was her face, plain brown eyes, three braids and the nose her mother hated. She looked for a long time and suddenly a shiver ran through her.
"I'm me," she whispered. "Me."
Nel didn't know quite what she meant, but on the other hand she knew exactly what she meant.
"I'm me. I'm not their daughter. I'm not Nel. I'm me. Me."
Each time she said the word me there was a gathering in her like power, like joy, like fear. Back in bed with her discovery, she stared out the window at the dark leaves of the horse chestnut.
"Me," she murmured. And then, sinking deeper into the quilts, "I want...I want to be...wonderful. Oh, Jesus, make me wonderful."

Before I even turned the last page of The Bluest Eye last year, I decided to read the rest of Toni Morrison's works in chronological order. I couldn't get over the fact that this was her debut novel because it's perfect...how can someone's first novel be so flawless, so poignant with such a unique and powerful voice?! I wanted to see how her work changed as she grew and developed as a writer, and, if they were anything like what I'd just read, I knew I was in for something special.

Sula follows two women as they grow up and grow apart as they get older. The titular Sula is fatherless, living with her mother, Hannah, who is very open about her sexual exploits with many of the men in the town, and her grandmother, Eva, who raised her three children by herself and opens her house to outsiders, young newlyweds, and the castaways of society. Nel lives with both of her parents although her father is mostly absent at work, and she comes from a more stable, conventional home compared to Sula, yet Nel harbours a resentment towards her mother, Helene, and longs to leave the town she was born in. The two girls become friends in spite of their differences, becoming so close that sometimes their own feelings and actions become indiscernible from one another.

Morrison explores how trauma echoes through generations, repeating themselves in a vicious cycle that none of the women can seem to break. One of my favourite aspects of this novel is the way that it treats fate - fate plays a paramount role in the book, which we are introduced to most starkly with the second chapter where we meet the character, Shadrack. He is a man who suffers with PTSD of some description, who starts National Suicide Day where he walks down the streets of Bottom on 3rd January, ringing a bell, and giving the residents the opportunity to take their own lives or someone else's. While at first you may struggle to connect this to the story of two girls growing up, it very swiftly becomes apparent that this desire to take control, to have authority over their own narrative, is the driving force behind everything Nel and Sula do.

Despite being a small book, Sula touches on a variety of large themes such as doubleness, identity, gender, motherhood, race, destiny, and human nature in its most raw and truest form. There isn't a plot as such...it's more of an examination of what people do in order to survive, the sacrifices we make for those we love even if it means hurting them beyond repair. I think Sula and Nel make up one person - their identities constantly blur throughout the book, they are mistaken for one another, and they are so deeply connected as children that their estrangement from one another is blindingly painful to them, particularly Sula.

I think I loved The Bluest Eye slightly more than this but Sula is still a masterpiece and I love it dearly. It's one of the best books I've read this year and I can't wait to read more of Toni Morrison's work.

“Me, I’m going down like one of those redwoods. I sure did live in this world.”
“Really? What have you got to show for it?”
“Show? To who? Girl, I got my mind. And what goes on in it. Which is to say I got me.”
“Lonely, ain’t it?”
“Yes, but my lonely is mine.”