Every city has a pulse, a rhythm, a certain way it's touched by light.

Continuing on tour for ON MORRISON, Namwali lands in sunny Oakland, California, where she reads Morrison's striking, swinging portrait of Harlem's jazz age with poet and writer Cathy Park Hong. At an event with the Bay Area Book Festival, Namwali and Cathy discuss slant rhymes, slanted grammars, and the slanting light Morrison wields in the passage to depict the City's beauty, violence, music, and love.

Here's the passage Cathy reads from Morrison's JAZZ:

"I'm crazy about this City.

Daylight slants like a razor cutting the buildings in half. In the top half I see looking faces and it's not easy to tell which are people, which the work of stonemasons. Below is shadow where any blasé thing takes place: clarinets and lovemaking, fists and the voices of sorrowful women. A city like this one makes me dream tall and feel in on things. Hep. It's the bright steel rocking above the shade below that does it. When I look over strips of green grass lining the river, at church steeples and into the cream-and-copper halls of apartment buildings, I'm strong. Alone, yes, but top-notch and indestructible—like the City in 1926 when all the wars are over and there will never be another one. The people down there in the shadow are happy about that. At last, at last, everything's ahead. The smart ones say so and people listening to them and reading what they write down agree: Here comes the new. Look out. There goes the sad stuff. The bad stuff. The things-nobody-could-help stuff. The way everybody was then and there. Forget that. History is over, you all, and everything's ahead at last."

You can find an abridged transcript and additional show notes here at Literary Hub.

You can buy Namwali Serpell's ON MORRISON at this link and anywhere books are sold.

PASSAGES: On Morrison is a Random House production, hosted by Namwali Serpell. The podcast was created and produced by Sara McCrea. Sound design and technical direction by John DeLore. Campaign strategy and development, media partnerships by Carrie Neill. Publicity and tour coordination by Peter Dyer.

In the threshold between awake and sleeping, a woman in a yellow dress strolls the aisles of a grocery store.

Continuing on tour for ON MORRISON, Namwali Serpell travels to Philadelphia to talk with writer Angela Flournoy about a scene from TAR BABY. Speaking at the Free Library, they trace the novel's invocation of myths and masks, Morrison's paradoxical presentation of stereotypes, and the surreal, slippery images that make the scene in the grocery store stick.

Here is the passage Angela reads from Morrison's TAR BABY:

"The vision itself was a woman much too tall. Under her long canary yellow dress Jadine knew there was too much hip, too much bust. The agency would laugh her out of the lobby, so why was she and everybody else in the store transfixed? The height? The skin like tar against the canary yellow dress? The woman walked down the aisle as though her many-­colored sandals were pressing gold tracks on the floor. Two upside-­down V's were scored into each of her cheeks, her hair was wrapped in a gelée as yellow as her dress…. The woman leaned into the dairy section and opened a carton from which she selected three eggs. Then she put her right elbow into the palm of her left hand and held the eggs aloft between earlobe and shoulder. She looked up then and they saw something in her eyes so powerful it had burnt away the eyelashes.

….the woman reached into the pocket of her yellow dress and put a ten-louis piece on the counter and walked away, away, gold tracking the floor and leaving them all behind....

Jadine followed her profile, then her back as she passed the store window—followed her all the way to the edge of the world where the plate glass stopped. And there, just there—a moment before the cataclysm when all loveliness and life and breath in the world was about to disappear—the woman turned her head sharply around to the left and looked right at Jadine. Turned those eyes too beautiful for eyelashes on Jadine and, with a small parting of her lips, shot an arrow of saliva between her teeth down to the pavement and the hearts below."

You can find an abridged transcript and additional show notes here at Literary Hub.

You can buy Namwali Serpell's ON MORRISON at this link and anywhere books are sold.

PASSAGES: On Morrison is a Random House production, hosted by Namwali Serpell. The podcast was created and produced by Sara McCrea. Sound design and technical direction by John DeLore. Campaign strategy and development, media partnerships by Carrie Neill. Publicity and tour coordination by Peter Dyer.

BELOVED is a holy space made of words. Across the street from Washington Square Park, in New York City's historic Judson Memorial Church, Namwali Serpell, writer Vinson Cunningham, and our live audience invoke the hauntings of Morrison's most celebrated novel. Reading from BELOVED's final, stunning page, Namwali and Vinson trace how Morrison imbues meaning on the level of syntax and crafts her words into a story that cannot be forgotten.

Here is the passage Vinson reads from Toni Morrison's BELOVED:

"It was not a story to pass on.

They forgot her like a bad dream. After they made up their tales, shaped and decorated them, those that saw her that day on the porch quickly and deliberately forgot her. It took longer for those who had spoken to her, lived with her, fallen in love with her, to forget, until they realized they couldn't remember or repeat a single thing she said, and began to believe that, other than what they themselves were thinking, she hadn't said anything at all. So, in the end, they forgot her too. Remembering seemed unwise. They never knew where or why she crouched, or whose was the underwater face she needed like that. Where the memory of the smile under her chin might have been and was not, a latch latched and lichen attached its apple-green bloom to the metal. What made her think her fingernails could open locks the rain rained on?

It was not a story to pass on.

So they forgot her. Like an unpleasant dream during a troubling sleep. Occasionally, however, the rustle of a skirt hushes when they wake, and the knuckles brushing a cheek in sleep seem to belong to the sleeper. Sometimes the photograph of a close friend or relative—looked at too long—shifts, and something more familiar than the dear face itself moves there. They can touch it if they like, but don't, because they know things will never be the same if they do.

This is not a story to pass on.

Down by the stream in back of 124 her footprints come and go, come and go. They are so familiar. Should a child, an adult place his feet in them, they will fit. Take them out and they disappear again as though nobody ever walked there.

By and by all trace is gone, and what is forgotten is not only the footprints but the water too and what it is down there. The rest is weather. Not the breath of the disremembered and unaccounted for, but wind in the eaves, or spring ice thawing too quickly. Just weather. Certainly no clamor for a kiss.

Beloved."

You can find an abridged transcript and additional show notes here at Literary Hub.

You can buy Namwali Serpell's ON MORRISON at this link and anywhere books are sold.

PASSAGES: On Morrison is a Random House production, hosted by Namwali Serpell. The podcast was created and produced by Sara McCrea. Sound design and technical direction by John DeLore. Campaign strategy and development, media partnerships by Carrie Neill. Publicity and tour coordination by Peter Dyer.