Love

Bill Cosey's male magnetism attracts the women who inhabit Morrison's pages. Some commanding, some flighty, all are drawn to Cosey's passion. Once, Cosey's Hotel and Resort on the beach was the place for "colored folk on the East Coast." Now, the run-down structure is home to his contentious widow and granddaughter. Through a series of retrospectives, the mystery of the questionable circumstances surrounding Cosey's death and his role in each woman's life gradually unfolds. Morrison confronts issues of race in America, particularly the deep disappointment of many African-Americans in the face of ineffectual civil rights legislation. Aching with melancholy for another, better, time, a time left in a troubled past, Morrison's novel combines elegance of language with a lush, luxurious reading to make "must listening." S.J.H. Winner of AUDIOFILE Earphones Award (c) AudioFile 2004, Portland, Maine

Starred review from September 1, 2003
At the center of this haunting, slender eighth novel by Nobel winner Morrison is the late Bill Cosey—entrepreneur, patriarch, revered owner of the glorious Cosey Hotel and Resort (once "the best and best-known vacation spot for colored folk on the East Coast") and captivating ladies' man. When the novel opens, the resort has long been closed, and Cosey's mansion shelters only two feuding women, his widow, Heed, and his granddaughter, Christine. Then sly Junior Viviane, fresh out of "Reform, then Prison," answers the ad Heed placed for a companion and secretary, and sets the novel's present action—which is secondary to the rich past—in motion. "Rigid vipers," Vida Gibbons calls the Cosey women; formerly employed at the Cosey resort, Vida remembers only its grandeur and the benevolence of its owner, though her husband, Sandler, knew the darker side of Vida's idol. As Heed and Christine feud ("Like friendship, hatred needed more than physical intimacy: it wanted creativity and hard work to sustain itself"), Junior of the "sci-fi eyes" vigorously seduces Vida and Sandler's teenage grandson. In lyrical flashbacks, Morrison slowly, teasingly reveals the glories and horrors of the past—Cosey's suspicious death, the provenance of his money, the vicious fight over his coffin, his disputed will. Even more carefully, she unveils the women in Cosey's life: his daughter-in-law, May, whose fear that civil rights would destroy everything they had worked for drove her to kleptomania and insanity; May's daughter, Christine, who spent hard years away from the paradise of the hotel; impoverished Heed the Night Johnson, who became Cosey's very young "wifelet"; the mysterious "sporting woman" Celestial; and L, the wise and quiet former hotel chef, whose first-person narration weaves throughout the novel, summarizing and appraising lives and hearts. Morrison has crafted a gorgeous, stately novel whose mysteries are gradually unearthed, while Cosey, its axis, a man "ripped, like the rest of us, by wrath and love," remains deliberately in shadow, even as his family burns brightly, terribly around him. (Oct. 28)Forecast:Morrison's measured pace—she produces a new novel every five years or so—does much to build reader anticipation. A full slate of media appearances (Today, Charlie Rose, NPR, etc.) and an 11-city tour will further whet appetites for her latest, which will be released in a first printing of 500,000.