Curious. Confounding. Comforting.

Love. It might have more definitions than examples. People have been talking, writing, singing, and dreaming about it for our entire existence on this planet. Whole religions, sects, cults, artistic movements, military adventures, and philosophies have been created because of the stuff. You can even debate whether the concept is best as a noun or a verb. But whatever you think about the topic, it’s here to stay. Love.

Throughout her book of the same name, Toni Morrison cracks open the theme to examine from a variety of angles. At the center of this story sits Bill Cosey, the deceased proprietor of a once-great hotel. Decades in the past, his bustling establishment catered to members of the Black social elite from across America. To make his resort hum like a proper exclusive enclave, he curried all manner of relationships, favors, seductions, and secrets – as most powerful men tend to do. But his death, and the collapse of his resort, caused the fracturing of several families throughout the community his business called home.

The reader absorbs these details through the sprawling conversations between the characters in the present. Each of them reveres their respective reflection of Cosey, showing him love in their own methods and memories. But each of those perspectives live in direct conflict with each other, especially the two women who are dueling beneficiaries in his will. In fact, his widow and his granddaughter used to be best friends, until his controlling machinations drove them apart.

And yet, Morrison takes great pains to subtly showcase the everyday-ness of the titular subject, complete with all its nuance, heartbreak, ecstasy, and defeat. The assorted exemplars of love are realistically imperfect, and anyone who’s ever been in love at any level can see themselves in how this book discusses love. This stirring read basks in a heady brew of mystery, shades of grey, and secrets, because life and love are never what they seem.