“Has there been a well-regarded or lauded author you keep trying out as a reader but have never connected with their books? Toni Morrison is my answer to that question. I have attempted several of her books (Jazz, Paradise, and Love) over the years but have never truly connected with them. I know those prior sentences would appear sacrilegious to many readers. How could he not connect with the great Toni Morrison? Well, I have learned over my reading life what the literary world has deemed as greatness (and deservedly so for Morrison) does not always float your boat as a reader. Toni Morrison is the only author that has made me stubborn enough as a reader to keep trying her work.”

I wrote the above paragraph in my review of Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison. This book was the beginning of my engagement with Morrison’s writing. Through Sula, I finally connected with her work, and I’ve become an admirer of her exceptional storytelling abilities.

A couple of weeks ago, I watched a YouTube video with Professor Greg Carr of Howard University and Dana A. Williams, author of Toni at Random. Williams wrote about Toni Morrison’s tenure as an editor for Random House Publishing from the early 1970s-mid 1980s. I was unaware of Morrison’s editorial work, but this excellent book has enlightened me about her significant role as a literary figure. It revealed how she influenced African American literature within the predominantly white, traditional publishing industry.

Williams traces Morrison’s formative years in Ohio, her journey to becoming a textbook editor in Syracuse, New York, as a divorced single mother, and her simultaneous pursuit of an editing career and the authorship of her novels, including The Bluest Eye, Sula, Song of Solomon, and Tar Baby. Morrison also had to navigate being a Black woman editor (one of the few at that time) at a major New York publishing house. Her literary path is a valuable model for aspiring writers and editors.

Morrison’s editorial work spanned a broad spectrum of fiction, including contributions from Gayl Jones (whom she mentored), Leon Forrest, Toni Cade Bambara (one of her dearest friends), John McCluskey, and Wesley Brown. Before, I was aware of Jones & Bambara, but not Forrest, McCluskey, or Brown. Her editorial work included poetry by Barbara Chase-Riboud and June Jordan, alongside non-fiction pieces such as “The Black Book,” which is a staple in many African American homes, and Ivan Van Sertima’s “They Came Before Columbus.” Morrison edited Angela Davis and Muhammad Ali’s autobiographies as well. Also, there is a Contemporary African Literature anthology (one of the first anthologies in the 1970s featuring African writers), Railroad: Trains & Train People in American Culture, and The Cotton Club. This diversity of literature is unparalleled in modern American publishing, and Morrison’s influence as editor is astonishing.

My favorite parts of Toni at Random are Morrison’s relationship with writers she edited, especially Toni Cade Bambara and Gayl Jones. Williams effectively emphasizes the deep literary and personal bond between her and Bambara.

“They were together now, they declared. While they had plenty in common, the two women were also quite different temperamentally. Bambara had the uncanny ability to make people feel comfortable immediately. Morrison, on the other hand, tended to be more reserved, especially when it came to her willingness to mix business with pleasure. But something about Bambara was different, compelling Morrison to ignore the line she typically drew between editor and friend.”

That paragraph from the chapter, The Two Tonis, described Morrison and Bambara’s relationship in a nutshell. On the other hand, Morrison’s relationship with Gayl Jones was just as interesting.

“One Saturday morning I had two hours before I had to take the children somewhere. I went into the bedroom and opened the box…..Two and a half hours later, the children came banging in wanting to know when I was going to get ready. I had been helplessly caught in the work of a twenty-four-year-old girl named Gayl Jones. A short novel she had written called Corregidora. So deeply impressed was I that I hadn’t time to be offended by the fact that she had no “right” to know so much so well. She had written a story that thought the unthinkable.”

That paragraph from the chapter, Green with Envy, describes how Morrison discovers Jones’ work and edited three of her novels (Corregidora, Eva’s Man, & White Rat). Additionally, Williams details the strained relationship between Morrison and Jones throughout that period. Reading about that was as crucial as Morrison’s more comfortable connection with Bambara. The editorial relationship between the editor and writers depicted Morrison as a firm yet fair editor who elicited the best performances from those she managed, fostering their growth during her time as editor.

Toni at Random gave me much more insight into Morrison’s incredible reach as an editor and opened my world into a part of American publishing that doesn’t get mention much at all. Thank you, Dana A. Williams, for writing this book and bringing this side of Morrison’s literary talent to the reading public.