Having read Beloved for the second time last year, I decided to read the other two books in the trilogy. Jazz is the second. There are two narrators, both unnamed, who tell the central story and its digressions from different perspectives that seem to contradict each other at times. Ms. Morrison’s usual lyricism, even exaggerated a little here, mimics the beat of jazz music and seems to provide a wordless subtext, like an epic poem.

In the mid 1920s, Violet and her husband, Joe, are in the beauty business. Violet is an in-home hairdresser and Joe is a door-to-door cosmetics salesman. Although he is usually a dependable man, Joe falls obsessively in love with a teenager named Dorcas. When Dorcas’s passion for Joe begins to cool, Joe shoots and kills her. “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 feeling going.” At Dorcas's funeral, in a fit of jealous rage, Violet slashes the dead girl's face with a knife while she is laid out in her coffin. Weeks later, Violet starts visiting Dorcas’s aunt and these visits become a regular occurrence. Meanwhile, Joe is lost in grief for his dead lover, but he is not arrested for her murder.

Despite the beautiful writing, this is not my favorite work by Ms. Morrison. I found the competing narrators to be a bit confusing. I read the paperback I have had for years while listening to the audiobook narrated by Ms. Morrison, whose expressive and soothing voice I could listen to forever.
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Had to read for class. Basically like reading a book backward - the end was what held my interest the most. If we knew what transpired to get the characters to how they are in the beginning, it would've been a much more coherent novel. As it was it was far too poetic and flowery, many phrases seemingly put in as some sort of message to the reader about how awful people can be, or how life is just what it is: awful, apparently.

Really had to read whole pages over again to understand what was going on, and we never do find out who the narrator is telling the story - gives the whole novel a very 'outside looking in' feel that could've been handled better had the narrator actually have been shown as a character who survived, and who was telling us what transpired. At the very least, I would have felt more invested in the characters and story (there is no real plot), rather than just a vague sense that I 'should' care, but can't. 3 stars for the ending alone, otherwise it'd be a 1. ( )

From the book’s description: “In the winter of 1926, when everybody everywhere sees nothing but good things ahead, Joe Trace, middle-aged door-to-door salesman of Cleopatra beauty products, shoots his teenage lover to death. At the funeral, Joe’s wife, Violet, attacks the girl’s corpse. This passionate, profound story of love and obsession brings us back and forth in time, as a narrative is assembled from the emotions, hopes, fears, and deep realities of black urban life.”

This story is told by two unnamed narrators, one following the other. Their perspectives are in conflict, leaving the reader to wonder which, if either, is correct. It is told in a stream of consciousness style. It seems to be variations on a theme, which is typical of jazz music, and can be felt in lyrical and rhythmic passages such as:

“So why is it on Thursday that the men look satisfied? Perhaps it’s the artificial rhythm of the week — perhaps there is something so phony about the seven-day cycle the body pays no attention to it, preferring triplets, duets, quartets, anything but a cycle of seven that has to be broken into human parts and the break comes on Thursday.”

This is the second book of a trilogy, starting with Beloved (during and just after slavery), progressing to Jazz (during the Harlem Renaissance and Great Migration), and ending in Paradise (establishing a black community before and during the Civil Rights era). Each may be read as a standalone, but together, they offer an overview of American black history via fiction. My personal order of preference is Paradise, then Beloved, and then Jazz. I can appreciate its literary merit, but I prefer a more straightforward approach.
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Joe and Violet are in the business of beauty. Joe sells cosmetics door to door and his wife is a home-visiting hairdresser. Usually a straight up and dependable man, Joe falls in obsessive love with a teenager named Dorcas. His passion for Dorcas forces him to kill her. At her funeral, in a fit of jealous insanity Joe's wife, Violet, attempts to slash the dead girl's face while she lay in her coffin. Violent Violet then goes home to free all of her pet birds. Her rage makes her human. The smartest character in the book is the City. I like the way the City makes people think they can do whatever they want and get away with it. The culture is full of passions, both right and wrong. Jazz will also take you back to July 1917, a time when Grandmother True Belle (great name) was afraid of Springfield, Massachusetts. Morrison's vivid descriptions of culture are breathtaking. ( )

Una storia, o più storie, d'amore e sofferenza tra i neri nell'America degli anni venti. In una Città non nominata, ma che è New York, in un quartiere non nominato, ma che è Harlem, nel 1926, si comincia con Joe e Violet, coniugi cinquantenni ormai estraniati: lui allaccia una relazione con una diciottenne, Dorcas, ma dopo tre mesi la uccide per amore. Violet va al funerale e tenta di sfregiare la salma. Mentre Joe chiuso in casa si strugge di dolore, Violet indaga sulla ragazza e inizia a frequentare la zia di lei, Alice, che l'aveva allevata dopo l'assassinio dei genitori in un tumulto razziale, e tra loro si sviluppa una specie di amicizia senza calore. E nel racconto di questo presente sono intercalati i flashback che narrano il passato dei personaggi, la loro origine nella Virginia rurale, risalendo fino a metà ottocento, le loro vite piene di miseria e sofferenza, ferite da razzismo e discriminazioni, le loro speranze quando emigrano nella Città piena di gente e di occasioni. E sullo sfondo l'America dei ruggenti anni Venti, l'età del jazz, un periodo di crescita e prosperità, vitalità e cambiamento dei costumi, in cui persino per i neri c'è spazio per farsi nonostante tutto una vita infinitamente migliore.

Un romanzo molto elaborato sia per stile che per struttura (non è una lettura facile, ma vale lo sforzo): una prosa ricca e turgida, una varietà di toni e punti di vista, che alterna passaggi narrativi, dialoghi, descrizioni pittoriche (espressionistiche?) della Città e dei paesaggi della Virginia, monologhi che sembrano confessioni, e interventi della voce narrante che commenta ciò che fanno i personaggi, parla di se stessa, a un certo punto riscrive un pezzo che ha appena scritto; una voce narrante che non si capisce bene chi è ma forse è il libro stesso. E una struttura complessa, forse fin troppo, che va indietro e avanti tra il presente e il passato, che dopo la metà inizia una lunga digressione e poi torna alla vicenda principale, che rivela dettagli a poco a poco che il lettore deve mettere insieme. Ho letto che questa varietà di toni e stili e questa struttura riproducono le caratteristiche della musica jazz, ma questo non l'ho afferrato perché è un genere che non conosco (e per quel pochissimo che mi è capitato di orecchiarlo, non mi è piaciuto). Un romanzo di vite fatte di mancanza d'amore e desiderio d'amore, di sofferenze, offese, ingiurie, abbandoni (i personaggi sono quasi tutti orfani), che mostra la ferocia del razzismo americano verso i neri, ma che malgrado tutto mantiene un tono generale ottimista ed esuberante. E per finire facciamo un elogio alla traduttrice Franca Cavagnoli: tradurre un testo di questo genere deve essere veramente impegnativo, e per quel che posso intuire io l'ha fatto brillantemente. ( )