Toni Morrison's ability to craft stories, to introduce so many characters and make each as interesting and whole as the last, is a rare and wonderful talent. Yet again she has written of wide, intertwining family histories and connected communities that are full of fascinating characters, and yet again her women characters are so revealing and so incredibly sympathetic that I could cry just to think of them. The really quite lovely close to this story full of so much sadness was so moving, and Violet and Joe's relationship was so delicately written and carefully crafted, and all those who surrounded them just the same. I really appreciated the themes of male and female relationships in this novel, and whilst the play a large role in much of her writing, the focus here being on the way women change themselves for men and what men really want from women was so interesting, and it seems that Morrison's thoughts on any and everything are deeply intelligent and wholly complex. I love the way she trusts her readers to understand her, to unpick her narrator's words and divulge reality from how it is perceived. I am so obsessed with her writing, I cannot believe someone could be so consistently and so supremely excellent.

Now it's clear. Through the doorway I see a table. On it is a brown wooden bowl, flat, low like a tray, full to spilling with oranges. I want to sleep, but it is clear now. So clear the dark bowl the pile of oranges. Just oranges. Bright. Listen. I don't know who that women is singing but I know the words by heart.