{"id":225953,"date":"2019-08-06T21:43:58","date_gmt":"2019-08-07T01:43:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/?p=225953"},"modified":"2019-08-06T21:43:58","modified_gmt":"2019-08-07T01:43:58","slug":"world-mourns-the-death-of-nobel-laureate-toni-morrison","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/2019\/08\/06\/world-mourns-the-death-of-nobel-laureate-toni-morrison\/","title":{"rendered":"World mourns the death of Nobel laureate Toni Morrison"},"content":{"rendered":"
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\u201cToni\u00a0Morrison\u00a0passed away peacefully last night surrounded by family and friends,\u201d the family announced. \u201cThe consummate writer who treasured the written word, whether her own, her students or others, she read voraciously and was most at home when writing.\u201d (File Photo By Angela Radulescu – Toni_Morrison_2008.jpg, CC BY-SA 2.0<\/a>)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

NEW YORK \u2014 Nobel laureate\u00a0Toni\u00a0Morrison, a pioneer and reigning giant of modern literature whose imaginative power in \u201cBeloved,\u201d \u201cSong of Solomon\u201d and other works transformed American letters by dramatizing the pursuit of freedom within the boundaries of race, has died at age 88.<\/p>\n

Publisher Alfred A. Knopf announced that\u00a0Morrison\u00a0died Monday night at Montefiore Medical Center in New York.\u00a0Morrison’s family issued a statement through Knopf saying she died after a brief illness.<\/p>\n

\u201cToni\u00a0Morrison\u00a0passed away peacefully last night surrounded by family and friends,\u201d the family announced. \u201cThe consummate writer who treasured the written word, whether her own, her students or others, she read voraciously and was most at home when writing.\u201d<\/p>\n

Few authors rose in such rapid, spectacular style. She was nearly 40 when her first novel, \u201cThe Bluest Eye,\u201d was published. By her early 60s, after just six novels, she had become the first black woman to receive the Nobel literature prize, praised in 1993 by the Swedish academy for her \u201cvisionary force\u201d and for her delving into \u201clanguage itself, a language she wants to liberate\u201d from categories of black and white. In 2012, Barack Obama awarded her a Presidential Medal of Freedom.<\/p>\n

\u201cHer writing was not just beautiful but meaningful \u2014 a challenge to our conscience and a call to greater empathy,\u201d Obama wrote Tuesday on his Facebook page. \u201cShe was as good a storyteller, as captivating, in person as she was on the page.\u201d<\/p>\n

Morrison\u00a0helped raise American multiculturalism to the world stage and helped uncensor her country’s past, unearthing the lives of the unknown and the unwanted, those she would call \u201cthe unfree at the heart of the democratic experiment.\u201d In her novels, history \u2014 black history \u2014 was a trove of poetry, tragedy, love, adventure and good old gossip, whether in small-town Ohio in \u201cSula\u201d or big-city Harlem in \u201cJazz.\u201d She regarded race as a social construct and through language founded the better world her characters suffered to attain.\u00a0Morrison\u00a0wove everything from African literature and slave folklore to the Bible and Gabriel Garcia Marquez into the most diverse, yet harmonious, of literary communities.<\/p>\n

\u201cNarrative has never been merely entertainment for me,\u201d she said in her Nobel lecture. \u201cIt is, I believe, one of the principal ways in which we absorb knowledge.\u201d<\/p>\n

Winner of the 1988 Pulitzer Prize for \u201cBeloved,\u201d she was one of the book world’s most regal presences, with her expanse of graying dreadlocks; her dark, discerning eyes; and warm, theatrical voice, able to lower itself to a mysterious growl or rise to a humorous falsetto. \u201cThat handsome and perceptive lady,\u201d James Baldwin called her.<\/p>\n

Her admirers were countless \u2014 from fellow authors, college students and working people to Obama and fellow former President Bill Clinton; to Oprah Winfrey, who idolized\u00a0Morrison\u00a0and helped greatly expand her readership.\u00a0Morrison\u00a0shared those high opinions, repeatedly labeling one of her novels, \u201cLove,\u201d as \u201cperfect\u201d and rejecting the idea that artistic achievement called for quiet acceptance.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaya Angelou helped me without her knowing it,\u201d\u00a0Morrison\u00a0told The Associated Press during a 1998 interview. \u201cWhen she was writing her first book, ‘I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings,’ I was an editor at Random House. She was having such a good time, and she never said, ‘Who me? My little book?’<\/p>\n

\u201cI decided that … winning the (Nobel) prize was fabulous,\u201d\u00a0Morrison\u00a0added. \u201cNobody was going to take that and make it into something else. I felt representational. I felt American. I felt Ohioan. I felt blacker than ever. I felt more woman than ever. I felt all of that, and put all of that together and went out and had a good time.\u201d<\/p>\n

The second of four children of a welder and a domestic worker,\u00a0Morrison\u00a0was born Chloe Ardelia Wofford in Lorain, Ohio, a steel town outside of Cleveland. She was encouraged by her parents to read and to think, and was unimpressed by the white kids in her community. Recalling how she felt like an \u201caristocrat,\u201d\u00a0Morrison\u00a0believed she was smarter and took it for granted she was wiser. She was an honours student in high a school, and attended Howard University because she dreamed of life spent among black intellectuals.<\/p>\n

At Howard, she spent much of her free time in the theatre (she had a laugh that could easily reach the back row), later taught there and also met and married a Jamaican architect, Harold\u00a0Morrison, whom she divorced in 1964. They had two children, Harold and Slade.<\/p>\n

But although she went on to teach there, Howard disappointed her. Campus life seemed closer to a finishing school than to an institution of learning. Protesters, among them former\u00a0Morrison\u00a0student Stokely Carmichael, were demanding equality.\u00a0Morrison\u00a0wanted that, too, but wondered what kind.<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought they wanted to integrate for nefarious purposes,\u201d she said. \u201cI thought they should demand money in those black schools. That was the problem \u2014 the resources, the better equipment, the better teachers, the buildings that were falling apart \u2014 not being in some high school next to some white kids.\u201d<\/p>\n

In 1964, she answered an ad to work in the textbook division of Random House. Over the next 15 years, she would have an impact as a book editor, and as one of the few black women in publishing, that alone would have ensured her legacy. She championed emerging fiction authors such as Gayl Jones and\u00a0Toni\u00a0Cade Bambara, helped introduce U.S. readers to such African writers as Nobel laureate Wole Soyinka, worked on a memoir by Muhammad Ali and topical books by such activists as Angela Davis and Black Panther Huey Newton. A special project was editing \u201cThe Black Book,\u201d a collection of everything from newspaper advertisements to song lyrics that anticipated her immersion in the everyday lives of the past.<\/p>\n

By the late ’60s, she was a single mother and a determined writer who had been pushed by her future editor, Robert Gottlieb of Alfred A. Knopf, into deciding whether she’d write or edit. Seated at her kitchen table, she fleshed out a story based on a childhood memory of a black girl in Lorain \u2014 raped by her father \u2014 who desired blue eyes. She called the novel \u201cThe Bluest Eye.\u201d<\/p>\n

Morrison\u00a0prided herself on the gift of applying \u201cinvisible ink,\u201d making a point and leaving it to the reader to discover it, such as her decision to withhold the skin colour of her characters in \u201cParadise.\u201d Her debut as an author came at the height of the Black Arts Movement and calls for literature as political and social protest. But\u00a0Morrison\u00a0criticized by indirection; she was political because of what she didn’t say. Racism and sexism were assumed; she wrote about their effects, whether in \u201cThe Bluest Eye\u201d or in \u201cSula,\u201d a story of friendship and betrayal between two black women.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe writers who affected me the most were novelists who were writing in Africa: Chinua Achebe, ‘Things Fall Apart,’ was a major education for me,\u201d\u00a0Morrison, who had studied William Faulkner and Virginia Woolf as a graduate student, told the AP in 1998.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey took their black world for granted. No black writer (in America) had done that except for Jean Toomer with ‘Cane.’ Everybody else had some confrontation with white people, which was not to say that Africans didn’t, but there was linguistically an assumption. The language was the language of the centre of the world, which was them.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo that made it possible for me to write ‘The Bluest Eye’ and not explain anything. That was wholly new! It was like a step into an absolutely brand new world. It was liberating in a way nothing had been before!\u201d<\/p>\n

She had no agent and was rejected by several publishers before reaching a deal with Holt, Rhinehart and Winston (now Henry Holt and Company), which released the novel in 1970. Sales were modest, but her book made a deep impression on The New York Times’ John Leonard, an early and ongoing champion of her writing, which he called \u201cso precise, so faithful to speech and so charged with pain and wonder that the novel becomes poetry.\u201d<\/p>\n

Setting her stories in segregated communities, where incest and suicide were no more outrageous than a sign which reads \u201cCOLORED ONLY,\u201d\u00a0Morrison\u00a0wrote of dreamers for whom the price was often death, whether the mother’s tragic choice to murder her baby girl \u2014 and save it from slavery \u2014 in \u201cBeloved,\u201d or the black community that implodes in \u201cParadise.\u201d<\/p>\n

Like Faulkner, her characters are burdened by the legacy, and ongoing tragedy, of slavery and separation. For Faulkner’s white Southerners, losers of the Civil War, the price is guilt, rage and madness; for\u00a0Morrison’s slaves and their descendants, supposedly liberated, history follows like the most unrelenting posse.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe future was sunset; the past something to leave behind,\u201d\u00a0Morrison\u00a0wrote in \u201cBeloved,\u201d in which the ghost of the slain daughter returns to haunt and obsess her mother.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd if it didn’t stay behind, well, you might have to stomp it out. Slave life; freed life \u2014 every day was a test and a trial. Nothing could be counted on in a world where even when you were a solution you were a problem.\u201d<\/p>\n

Morrison’s breakthrough came in 1977 with \u201cSong of Solomon,\u201d her third novel and the story of young Milkman Dead’s sexual, social and ancestral education. It was the first work by a black writer since Richard Wright’s \u201cNative Son\u201d to be a full Book-of-the-Month selection and won the National Book Critics Circle award. It was also\u00a0Morrison’s first book to centre on a male character, a novel that enabled her \u201cget out of the house, to de-domesticate the landscape.\u201d<\/p>\n

But the mainstream was another kind of education. Reviewing \u201cSong of Solomon,\u201d author Reynolds Price chided\u00a0Morrison\u00a0for \u201cthe understandable but weakening omission of active white characters.\u201d (He later recanted.) When \u201cBeloved\u201d was overlooked for a National Book Award, a letter of protest from 48 black writers, including Angelou and Amiri Baraka, was published in The New York Times Book Review, noting that\u00a0Morrison\u00a0had never won a major literary prize.<\/p>\n

\u201cBeloved\u201d went on to win the Pulitzer and\u00a0Morrison\u00a0soon ascended to the very top of the literary world, winning the Nobel and presiding as unofficial laureate of Winfrey’s book club, founded in 1996. Winfrey chose \u201cSong of Solomon,\u201d \u201cThe Bluest Eye,\u201d \u201cParadise\u201d and \u201cSula\u201d over the years and would list all of\u00a0Morrison’s works as among her favourites. Winfrey also starred in and helped produce the 1998 film version of \u201cBeloved.\u201d<\/p>\n

As with so many other laureates,\u00a0Morrison’s post-Nobel fiction was viewed less favourably than her earlier work.\u00a0Morrison\u00a0received no major competitive awards after the Nobel and was criticized for awkward plotting and pretentious language in \u201cLove\u201d and \u201cParadise.\u201d But a novel published in 2008, \u201cA Mercy,\u201d was highly praised. \u201cHome,\u201d a brief novel about a young Korean War veteran, came out in 2012 and was followed three years later by a contemporary drama, \u201cGod Help the Child.\u201d\u00a0Morrison\u00a0herself was the subject of an acclaimed documentary, \u201cToni\u00a0Morrison: The Pieces I Am,\u201d which came out this year.<\/p>\n

Morrison’s other works included \u201cPlaying in the Dark,\u201d a collection of essays; \u201cDreaming Emmett,\u201d a play about the slain teenager Emmett Till; and several children’s books co-authored with her son, Slade\u00a0Morrison\u00a0(who died of cancer in 2010). In November 2016, she wrote a highly cited New York essay about the election of Donald Trump, calling his ascension to the presidency a mark of what whites would settle for to hold on to their status.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo scary are the consequences of a collapse of white privilege that many Americans have flocked to a political platform that supports and translates violence against the defenceless as strength. These people are not so much angry as terrified, with the kind of terror that makes knees tremble,\u201d she wrote.<\/p>\n

\u201cWilliam Faulkner understood this better than almost any other American writer. In ‘Absalom, Absalom,’ incest is less of a taboo for an upper-class Southern family than acknowledging the one drop of black blood that would clearly soil the family line. Rather than lose its \u201cwhiteness\u201d (once again), the family chooses murder.\u201d<\/p>\n

She taught for years at Princeton University, from which she retired in 2006, but also had an apartment in downtown Manhattan and a riverfront house in New York’s Rockland County that burned down in 1993, destroying manuscripts, first editions of Faulkner and other writers and numerous family mementoes. She had the house rebuilt and continued to live and work there.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen I’m not thinking about a novel, or not actually writing it, it’s not very good; the 21st century is not a very nice place. I need it (writing) to just stay steady, emotionally,\u201d she told the AP in 2012.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen I finished ‘The Bluest Eye’ … I was not pleased. I remember feeling sad. And then I thought, ‘Oh, you know, everybody’s talking about \u201csisterhood,’\u201c I wanted to write about what women friends are really like. (The inspiration for ‘Sula’). All of a sudden the whole world was a real interesting place. Everything in it was something I could use or discard. It had shape. The thing is \u2014 that’s how I live here.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

NEW YORK \u2014 Nobel laureate\u00a0Toni\u00a0Morrison, a pioneer and reigning giant of modern literature whose imaginative power in \u201cBeloved,\u201d \u201cSong of …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":44,"featured_media":225954,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,106],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-225953","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-entertainment","category-hollywood","mauthors-hillel-italie","mauthors-the-associated-press"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/225953","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/44"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=225953"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/225953\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":225955,"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/225953\/revisions\/225955"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/225954"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=225953"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=225953"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=225953"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}