THERE, in a clearing in the Ohio woods, the old woman leads the meeting of the ex-slaves. She calls it her "Call." It's not a sermon. Baby Suggs just says, "Here, in this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in grass."

If there is magic in Toni Morrison's novel, Beloved, it is because it reminds us of the meaning of "flesh," flesh once chained in slavery, branded like cat