The novel is not as concerned with mere story line as much as with the texture of these women's lives and the community they live in. Irony, a literary technique, helps establish this texture. In the prologue, for example, we learn that the hills on which the black neighborhood is situated were once considered worthless land. However, when the whites realized the potential of this land, it suddenly became valuable: They began buying the land, and the blacks were forced to move down into the valley, previously a Whites Only area where they had worked — but were forbidden to live.
Another element of the novel's richness is Morrison's language. Morrison doesn't merely tell us that blacks are being ousted from the Bottom and whites are moving in; she shows us examples of what's being replaced. Workers "tore the nightshade and blackberry patches from their roots"; beech trees are gone, as are the pear trees "where children sat and yelled down through the blooms to passersby." Morrison describes the black women who once leaned their heads back while Irene the beautician lathered their hair; she pictures Reba of Reba's Grill cooking in a hat "because she couldn't remember the ingredients without it."
Morrison enables us to see Reba and Irene; we hear the nightshade and blackberry bushes being torn from the ground and the children's yelling from the pear trees. We can taste Reba's cooking, and we can feel the "frayed" edges of men's lapels and the softness of women's felt hats. This is texture. Morrison's prose cannot be skimmed; it must be savored. It is best read aloud, slowly.
