Poetic, structurally resembles jazz, probably great in English (I read the Finnish translation), couldn't relate to the story. ( )

This book is one of the few that I put down after reading the first few sentences. The rhythm and pacing threw me as I tried and retried that opening paragraph, and I reluctantly gave up, returning the book to the library the next day. Of course, that was about 10 years ago. Since then, I've read two of Morrison's books and enjoyed them immensely so I decided to give "Jazz" another go.

"Jazz" tells the story of Violet and Joe Trace, a couple struggling with a strained relationship in different ways: Violet starts to slowly lose herself, sitting down in the street for no reason, releases all the birds in the apartment; Joe shoots his teenaged lover, Dorcas, to death. Weaving back and forth in time, allowing each character -- even Dorcas -- an opportunity to tell his or her part in the events, the reader learns not just about the story of Violet and Joe, but also their family histories, what lead them to such a drastic point in their lives.

I managed to make it past those first lines this time, finally understanding that Morrison used the language as her own interpretation of jazz music from the 1920s: flowing, rhythmic and repetitive, riffing off to tangents that hold you equally as strong as the original thread, but ultimately finding its way back. In that respect, the writing brilliantly created the feel of a big city just getting into the swing of jazz, affecting how people acted and spoke, how they walked, how they related to one another. While that held my interest, sometimes it detracted form the story, such as the tangent describing the City near the beginning going on for pages and pages though it didn't seem to have anything to do with the actual tale.

Many of the sections felt that way to me -- I enjoyed how they were written, but what they were saying didn't seem to have an impact on the story as far as I could tell. Golden Gray, True Belle, the Wild Woman -- all finely drawn characters, but I scratched my head trying to understand what their stories had to do with Violet and Joe. I grudgingly forged ahead with those areas because when Morrison stuck to the tale of Joe and Violet, the story picked up steam and a definite direction.

But I won't call this book one of my favorites. "Jazz" wound up feeling like more of an experiment in writing which sometimes worked. ( )

Forget the rating. It's really not important, and I'm not sure it has much to do with the book because I'm not sure it's a ratable book or, if it is, I'm not sure I'm the one that's qualified to do so. In fact, I'm definitely not.

I had only read a short story by Toni Morrison before and didn't find anything unusual about the writing then. This time the very distinct and peculiar writing style struck me from the beginning. One of the blurbs says the book contains "some of the finest lyrics passages ever written in a modern novel". Perhaps that's true. I wouldn't know how to phrase it. Maybe you can get idea of it by reading this, the first paragraph of Jazz (or maybe you can't):

"Sth, I know that woman. She used to live with a flock of birds on Lenox Avenue. Know her husband, too. He fell for an eighteen-year-old girl with one of those deepdown, spooky loves that made him so sad and happy he shot her just to keep the feelings going. When the woman, her name is Violet, went to the funeral to see the girl and to cut her dead face they threw her to the floor and out of the church. She ran, then, through all that snow, and when she got back to her apartment she took the birds from their cages and set them out the windows to freeze or fly, including the parrot that said, 'I Love You' "

There are two kinds of great books. There are great books you know they're great the first time you read them. And you have such an amazing time with them that you don't want to get back to them anytime soon for fear that you won't be able to replicate the first experience. And there is also the other kind. Great books that you sense they are great, but the first time is not enough for you to understand or feel or touch that greatness. And you want to go back to them immediately after you've finished them because you know you've missed something. You feel it. You got confused at times and at times you got distracted or thought "fuck this paragraph, I don't have the patience to try and decipher it, I'll just move on with the story" and then regretted it. Then the book is over and you love its ending so much you think you could've loved it all if only you paid more attention to it instead of just hurriedly getting through the words. That's Jazz for you.

If you decide to read the book, focus. Give it your full attention. Don't hurry through it. It's not an easy book. But I sense that it's a great one. I'm keeping this rating for now, but I don't think I got all I could get from Jazz. I think - or hope- that, inevitably, I will go back to it someday. And when that happens, I'll try to really get to its core. ( )

Though it took me awhile to get into, this book struck a chord and made my heart ache by the end. Like any good jazz song, it runs through the gamut of emotions and leaves you wanting more. ( )

Impenetrable. Polemical novel of female grievances. ( )