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Showing posts with label Black/White Issues. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Black/White Issues. Show all posts
Thursday, September 17, 2020
Wingate's Newest Engaging and Moving
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
As a first-year English teacher, 27-year-old Benedetta "Bennie" Silva knows she pretty much has to take what she can get in terms of job placement. Still, she doesn't quite know how she's going to manage her first assignment at an all-black junior/senior high school in little Augustine, Louisiana. The kids, most of whom are impoverished and jaded, are just as skeptical of her as she is of them. In a desperate effort to engage them, she begins researching the history of a nearby plantation called Goswood Grove. When she discovers an incredible story about three young women who set out on a remarkable journey, Benny becomes obsessed with the tale, especially when she finds a connection between it and one of her students.
Over one hundred years earlier, in the days of Reconstruction, a trio of teens from Augustine hie off for Texas. Hannah is a freed slave searching for her mother and siblings, all of whom were sold off when she was only six. Lavinia is the spoiled daughter of Goswood Grove's master, who disappeared without a trace, leaving his plantation and family destitute. A mulatto, Juneau is Lavinia's Creole half-sister, who goes along reluctantly to keep Lavinia from getting into too much trouble. Along the way, the unlikely road trip companions will deal with perils of every kind. Can they learn to rely on each other? Will each of them find what they're looking for? Will any of them?
The Book of Lost Friends, Lisa Wingate's newest, has been criticized for being slow and lacking depth. While I can understand these complaints, I actually really liked the novel. It introduced me to a piece of Reconstruction era history that I'd never heard of—"Lost Friends" advertisements that helped families torn apart by slavery find each other again. Not only did I find this aspect of the novel fascinating, but I also enjoyed getting to know Hannah, Lavinia, and Juneau. Their journey to Texas and into their own pasts had enough drama and intrigue to keep me reading. All in all, I found The Book of Lost Friends to be engaging, interesting, moving, and thought-provoking. I loved it.
(Readalikes: Hm, nothing is coming to mind. You?)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for violence, blood/gore, and disturbing subject matter
To the FTC, with love: I received an e-ARC of The Book of Lost Friends from the generous folks at Ballantine Books (a division of Penguin Random House) via those at NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Thank you!
Monday, December 30, 2019
I'm Not Dying With You Tonight An Exciting Thrill-Ride of a Debut
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
When her mother decides to relocate to Venezuela for a job, Campbell Carlson is sent to live with her father in Atlanta. She's trying to fit in in her new environment, but things aren't going well. When she reluctantly volunteers to work the concession stand at a high school football game, Campbell never expects that the night will turn into a frantic race through a rioting city with an unlikely ally by her side. But that's exactly what happens when a fight breaks out at the school and quickly turns into an uncontrollable free-for-all, with fists and racial slurs flying to-and-fro like deadly arrows.
Lena James doesn't know the white girl cowering in the concession stand, but she can tell her pale-faced classmate needs someone with some backbone to help her out of the nightmare happening all around them. Good thing Lena's got backbone to spare. Taking Campbell under her wing, she leads her off school property into the dangerous nearby hood, where the two of them race toward what they think is safety—only to find that nowhere is safe, not with riots breaking out all over the city. Can the two learn to trust each other enough to find their way home? Or will they become victims of the violence that's raging like wildfire through Atlanta?
I'm Not Dying With You Tonight is a debut novel for both Gilly Segal and Kimberly Jones. The book tells a wild, adrenaline-fueled story that had me burning through pages so fast it's a wonder I didn't sprain my wrist! The tale is so intense that I actually had nightmares after reading it. With a white girl in the minority, it offers a unique view of race issues, which is furthered by the dual narrative that shows two different perspectives, highlighting the assumptions and prejudiced thoughts each had about the other. With minimal personal details about either of the girls, I'm Not Dying With You Tonight is hyper-focused on the action, which brings up issues of racism, unfair police targeting, stereotypes, etc., but still keeps the plot moving at a dizzying pace. It's an exciting but thought-provoking novel that will appeal to both thriller and action/adventure fans. Personally, I loved it.
(Readalikes: Reminds me a little of SLAY by Brittney Morris)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for language (a handful of F-bombs, plus milder expletives), violence, blood/gore, innuendo, scenes of peril, and depictions of underage drinking and illegal drug use
To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of I'm Not Dying With You Tonight from the generous folks at Sourcebooks for the purpose of Cybils Award judging. Thank you!
Thursday, October 03, 2019
Historical Gentrification Novel Intimate and Poignant
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
To outsiders, it may look like a grungy, aging slum. To others, Brooklyn—a mostly Black community in Charlotte, North Carolina—is a vibrant, colorful neighborhood full of good folks, long-time residents whose families have lived, loved and died in the close-knit area. When the city decides to raze Brooklyn, the community erupts. Despite promises of new housing and the relocation of businesses, local families know nothing will ever be the same for them. It may have its problems, but Brooklyn is their home. Losing it will change their lives irrevocably.
Tomorrow's Bread by Anna Jean Mayhew is told from three viewpoints—that of Loraylee Hawkins, a single mom who must keep her relationship with her child's white father a secret; Ebenezer Polk, the aging reverend of Brooklyn's St. Timothy's Second Presbyterian Church; and Persy Marshall, the sympathetic wife of one of the white men in charge of "redeveloping" the community. Through their eyes, the reader comes to know Brooklyn in all its variety and its people in all their complexity. With this intimate knowledge, the reader really feels the tragedy of the neighborhood's demise. Based on real events, the story brings the conflicts and controversy surrounding gentrification to life. That's the beauty of Tomorrow's Bread. The novel doesn't have much of a plot and the storyline it does have is at times disjointed, confusing, and slow, making the read a bit of a slog. In the end, then, I liked this one but didn't love it.
(Readalikes: Hm, I can't think of anything. Can you?)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for brief, mild language (no F-bombs), violence, mild sexual content, and depictions of illegal drug use
To the FTC, with love: Another library fine find
Monday, April 22, 2019
Inspiring MG Novel Lauds the Power of Friendship
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
Gabriel Haberlin's life is already pretty great, but when he gets a shiny new bicycle for his 12th birthday it gets even better. He's taking his present for a spin around little Birdsong, South Carolina, when he comes face-to-face (tire-to-tire?) with the town's worst driver. Just as Gabriel starts to fret that his 12th birthday will be his last, someone rushes in front of the speeding car and pushes Gabriel out of the way. The stranger, a black man named Meriwether Hunter, not only saves Gabriel's life but he also fixes up his mangled bicycle so it looks as good as new.
Wanting to repay Meriwether's kindness, Gabriel talks his father into hiring the fix-it man to work at his auto shop. Not everyone in the segregated town is happy with that hiring decision, but Gabriel is thrilled with the opportunity to get to know Meriwether better. When he finds out the black man's intriguing secret, Gabriel becomes even more fascinated with his new pal. If more people knew about Meriwether's war service and heroism, surely they would treat him better. But, even in small, safe Birdsong secrets and forbidden friendships are dangerous things, things that will open Gabriel's eyes in ways they've never been opened before ...
The Unsung Hero of Birdsong, USA, by Brenda Woods is a touching, thought-provoking novel about growing up and facing the sometimes ugly truths that can exist in even the most placid of places. It's a story about finding hidden depths, both in yourself and other people. The tale, which features an interesting historical setting, likable characters, and tight prose, also teaches many valuable lessons about friendship, family, and forming one's own opinions in spite of what anyone else might think. It's an enjoyable and important book that's easy to read, but difficult to forget.
(Readalikes: Reminds me a bit of Jericho Walls by Kristi Collier)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for violence and disturbing subject matter
To the FTC, with love: I bought a copy of The Unsung Hero of Birdsong, USA, from Amazon with a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger. Ha ha.
Thursday, February 08, 2018
Warm, Quirky Southern Family Secrets Novel a Glittering Gem
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
Leia Birch Briggs loves herself a superhero. Literally. One drunken night after a book-signing, the comic book author and illustrator finds herself in bed with Batman. After the (very uncharacteristic) one-night stand, Leia's left with a little surprise—one that's going to make a big impression on her very proper Southern family.
Before she's had a chance to break her own news, Leia finds out that her beloved grandmother is suffering from a severe case of dementia. "Birchie" has been out of it for some time, a fact her best friend has been charged with keeping under wraps. After a scandalous faux pas at a public event, it becomes impossible to hush up Birchie's declining health. Although Leia is furious at Miss Wattie for her subterfuge, Leia nevertheless hightails it to Birchville, Alabama, to straighten the old ladies out. Along the way, she picks up her 13-year-old niece, Lavender, who's dealing with her own family crisis.
As if Leia doesn't have enough to deal with, she makes another shocking discovery—a trunk full of bones in her grandmother's attic. While she sorts through Birchie's house, tries to drum up the courage to announce she's pregnant with a bi-racial baby, and attempts to break through some killer writer's block, Leia also has to solve an old family mystery. Through it all, she'll learn some surprising truths about herself, her family, and her future.
Although I've heard great things about Joshilyn Jackson, this is the first time I've picked up one of her books. And you know what? It won't be the last. I adored The Almost Sisters, a warm, quirky novel about the ups, downs, and all-arounds of being part of a family. Although the plot summary makes The Almost Sisters sound like an easy, breezy beach read, it actually has a lot more depth than that. Hitting as it does on issues like racism, privilege, and the devastating effects of dementia, it's a sad and thought-provoking tale at times. It's also funny, compelling, and touching. Even though I saw its big reveal coming from a mile away, I loved this novel and will definitely be looking for more gems from the talented Ms. Jackson.
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for language (a dozen or so F-bombs, plus milder expletives), sexual content, and violence
To the FTC, with love: Another library fine find
Thursday, December 31, 2015
True Account of To Kill A Mockingbird-esque Case Makes for Fascinating, Eye-Opening Reading
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
In 1983, when he was a 23-year-old Harvard Law student, Bryan Stevenson took an intensive class which focused on race and poverty litigation. As part of the course, he began an internship with the Southern Prisoners Defense Committee (SPDC) in Atlanta. Working with the organization, which helps death row inmates, opened his eyes and changed his life. Embracing the principle Each of us is more than the worst thing we've ever done (17-18), Stevenson has since dedicated himself to fighting mistreatment in the criminal justice system, especially when it concerns those who are most vulnerable—minorities, the poor, the wrongly accused, women, children, etc.
In Just Mercy, Stevenson's first book, he recounts a situation he encountered early in his career. It was during his fourth year with the SPDC that the young lawyer became embroiled in a real-life To Kill a Mockingbird-esque case that would teach him truths so startling and profound he would never forget them. While visiting a prison in Alabama—a state that had a large incarcerated population and no public defender system, meaning many of its death row inmates had no legal representation at all—Stevenson met Walter McMillian, a middle-aged African-American man from, ironically enough, Monroe County, Alabama. Like the fictional Tom Robinson, McMillian was accused of harming a young white woman. In McMillian's case, it was a murder charge—Ronda Morrison, an 18-year-old store clerk, had been shot during what appeared to be a robbery at her place of employment. While Morrison upheld an unblemished reputation, McMillian's was undeniably spotty. Though married, he was a notorious ladies' man (who had just ended a troublesome relationship with his white, married lover), who was also rumored to be part of the "Dixie mafia" and a drug dealer. Still, McMillian emphatically maintained his innocence in Morrison's killing. Although he had an alibi for the night the crime was committed, one verified by a dozen people, police pursued the matter, which eventually landed McMillian on death row.
The many inconsistencies in the case against Walter McMillian became apparent as soon as Stevenson began investigating it. Stunned by the prejudice and incompetence he uncovered, the attorney vowed to free McMillian from prison. Doing so would prove to be unimaginably difficult, steeped as the case was in racism, prejudice, conspiracy, lies, etc. It would also change the way Stevenson viewed mercy and justice—forever.
I hadn't heard of Bryan Stevenson or Walter McMillian before picking up Just Mercy. In fact, I knew nothing about the book until my husband randomly plucked the audio version of it from off a library shelf. After completing a road trip during which both he and his aunt listened, spellbound, to the story, my husband recommended I read it. I did. Like my husband and aunt-in-law, I found myself transfixed by Stevenson's account of defending McMillian. I've never thought the criminal justice system perfect, but reading about such obvious kinks in its workings definitely reminded me of its many flaws. Using McMillian's case as just one example, Stevenson makes some very convincing arguments about mercy, justice, and prison reform. While Just Mercy gets undeniably depressing, it's also inspiring. Eye-opening, jaw-dropping, heart-breaking, thought-provoking—all these adjectives describe the effect it had on me. You may not agree with Stevenson's findings, but you will no doubt find his book illuminating. I highly recommend it.
(Readalikes: While the books are not similar in tone or style, Just Mercy did remind me of To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee; also of A Time to Kill by John Grisham)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for brief, mild language (no F-bombs), and disturbing themes, including rape, drug abuse, violence, child abuse, etc.
To the FTC, with love: I bought a copy of Just Mercy from Amazon with a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger. Ha ha.
Friday, February 07, 2014
A Time to Kill: Which Do You Prefer—Book? Movie? Both? Neither?
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
Many moons ago, while a student at BYU, I watched an edited version of A Time to Kill, the 1996 film based on the book by John Grisham. I remember being blown away by the movie—it made me laugh, it made me cry, it made me swoon, it made my blood boil ... in other words, it touched me. So much so that when Grisham published a sequel to the book (Sycamore Row, 2013), I thought, "Hm, I should read A Time to Kill and re-watch the movie, just to see if the story is as powerful as I remember it being." It was an interesting little experiment and I'll tell you what I learned ... in a minute.
First, a plot summary:
Relations between the black and white residents of Ford County, Mississippi, have never been what you might call peaceful. The only black sheriff in the state works there, it's true, but that hardly makes the county progressive. Or sympathetic toward those with brown skin and woolly hair. This fact becomes increasingly apparent when Carl Lee Hailey, a 37-year-old black mill worker, kills the men accused of raping his 10-year-old daughter. The murdered "boys" are white rednecks, the kind of dumb, lazy oxen who will be mourned only by the clients of their flourishing drug-dealing business. Still, it's a shocking turn of events. As deserving of a lynching as the pair might have been, most folks in the small town of Clanton are horrified by the commission of such a violent act of vigilante justice on their own soil. Especially by a black man against two white men.
When Carl Lee asks Jake Brigance, a local white lawyer, to defend him, things get even more interesting. Jake knows it's the kind of case that could make his whole career, so despite some misgivings, he takes it. It's not long before he's receiving death threats, burning crosses on his lawn, and pleas from his wife to hand the whole mess off to someone else. The more heated the situation becomes, however, the more determined Jake is to keep Carl Lee out of prison. No matter what the cost. Which is becoming dearer and dearer. With the help of his ragtag legal team, Jake might just be able to pull it off. But, with the Ku Klux Klan, corrupt court officials, and the deep-seated racism which has defined Ford County for more than a century all standing in his way, it's going to be a long, perilous journey—one which just might end at the electric chair.
The book, as you can probably tell, is an intense, action-packed drama filled with colorful characters forced to wrangle with a whole host of sticky moral dilemmas. It's a thrilling, edge-of-your-seat page turner, for sure. If you've read Grisham, you know he writes what I call "guy books," meaning fiction that focuses more on action than on character development, emotional reaction, or relationships between characters. Because of this, A Time to Kill—like most "guy books"—feels a little stiff to me. I still enjoyed the story, I just had trouble empathizing and identifying with most of the characters (with the exception of Carl Lee). Even Brigance, whose devotion and determination—not just to his client, but also to his family, his friends, and his town—comes through so palpably on-screen, falls flat in the novel. In fact, book Brigance is a grouchy, sexist media whore who's almost as slimy as the rest of his comrades. This disappointed me since I found his movie character so appealing (and not just because of McConaughey's pretty face). Now, I do have to say that the film version skips over some of the humor and subtlety that makes the novel stand out and yet, I like the former so much more than the latter. Is it because I'm a girl? Maybe so, but the movie has a whole lot more heart than the book, mostly because it shows Brigance experiencing a wide range of emotions—we see him feeling confident, conflicted, remorseful, sad, guilty, nervous, proud, scared, etc. This makes him seem empathetic and human in a way the book does not. For this and other reasons, I much prefer the film version of A Time to Kill. Which isn't to say it's a sweet, heart-warming family flick. It's not. At all. It's depressing and difficult to watch, but powerful all the same. The book has its moments, of course—overall, though, the movie tells a better story.
(Readalikes: Sycamore Row; also reminds me of To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee)
Grade:
If this were a movie (and it is!), it would be rated:
for language (no F-bombs), including frequent use of racial epithets; violence (including a fairly graphic rape scene), and depictions of excessive drinking and illegal activity
To the FTC, with love: I bought a copy of A Time to Kill from Amazon with a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger. Ha ha.
Monday, February 03, 2014
A Rose Is A Rose, Unless It's a Blossoming Violet
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
Violet Diamond is used to standing out. That's what happens when you're the only brown-skinned, nappy-haired girl in your town, in your school, even in your family. It doesn't bother the 11-year-old all that much. Except when it does. If only her African-American dad was still alive, then she wouldn't look so out of place. Violet knows her mother and half-sister—both pale blondes—couldn't care less about the color of her skin, it's just that sometimes, she really wishes people could look at the three of them and see a matched set.When Violet gets a chance to connect with her father's family, her world opens up like it never has before. She doesn't completely match the Diamonds either, nor does she feel perfectly comfortable with them, but the better she gets to know them, the more whole she feels. As she explores the black side of her bi-racial makeup, she asks herself some tough questions: Is she black or is she white? With which side of the family does she identify most? To which does she really belong? And, most important of all, does a family have to match in order to count? In order to love?
I'm always thrilled when I find books for young readers that feature girls of color, especially those who are bi-racial like my adopted daughter. She's only five, but you should have seen her face light up when she spied the cover of The Blossoming Universe of Violet Diamond by Brenda Woods—"That girl looks just like me, Mom!" she exclaimed. Although my little girl is too young to read it now, I have no doubt that the themes of the book will resonate with her as she grows older. The story brings up issues that are especially relevant to bi-racial children, but really, Violet's out-of-place feelings will be familiar to all readers since we've all felt that way at one time or another. I definitely empathized with our heroine and felt that she was working through issues that need to be addressed more in children's literature. That being said, I thought the plot got a little wobbly in places. Also, I would have liked more subtlety, as the story sometimes seemed heavy-handed and preachy. All in all, though, I enjoyed it.
(Readalikes: Black Boy, White School by Brian F. Walker; Sell-Out by Ebony Joy Wilkins; When the Black Girl Sings by Bil Wright)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for intense situations
To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of The Blossoming Universe of Violet Diamond from the generous folks at Penguin. Thank you!
Monday, December 16, 2013
I Never Re-Read Books (Except This One)
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
I rarely re-read books. Almost never. With so many great new stories out there just waiting to be cracked open, why waste time going back to one I've already experienced? That's my usual philosophy, but sometimes, I get a hankering to re-enjoy an old favorite. Like Harper Lee's classic To Kill a Mockingbird. It's been a long time (high school?) since I first read and loved it, so a re-reading was long, long overdue. And, you guys, I'm so glad I took the opportunity! I swear, everything about this book touches some part of my soul. It's just a beautiful, inspiring, charming story—one that will never get old, no matter how many times I read it.
I'm not even going to attempt any deep literary analysis of To Kill a Mockingbird. That's been done many, many times, and by people much more knowledgeable than I. So, let me just encourage you to read this one, whether for the first time or the twentieth. It's an incredible novel, the kind that should be studied in schools and revered worldwide (oh wait, it already is ...).
(Readalikes: Reminds me of A Time to Kill by John Grisham)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for brief, mild language (no F-bombs), violence, racial epitaphs and references to rape
(Incidentally, the classic 1962 movie version of To Kill a Mockingbird is Not Rated.)
To the FTC, with love: I bought To Kill a Mockingbird from Amazon using a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger. Ha ha.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Dark, Haunting Slavery Novel an Affecting Debut
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
It must be too early in the morning for writing plot summaries, because the words just aren't coming to me today. Luckily, someone's already done the work for me. Here's the polished, professionally-written back cover blurb for The Kitchen House:
Orphaned during her passage from Ireland, young, white Lavinia arrives on the steps of the kitchen house and is placed, as an indentured servant, under the care of Belle, the master's illegitimate slave daughter. Lavinia learns to cook, clean, and serve food, while guided by the quiet strength of her new family. In time, Lavinia is accepted into the world of the big house, caring for the master's opium-addicted wife and befriending his dangerous yet protective son. She attempts to straddle the worlds of the kitchen and big house, but her skin color will forever set her apart from Belle and the other slaves. Through the unique eyes of Lavinia and Belle, Kathleen Grissom's debut novel unfolds in a heartbreaking and ultimately hopeful story of class, race, dignity, deep-buried secrets, and familial bonds.
Sounds intriguing, right? It is. As Lavinia's pulled into the warm embrace of Belle's family (though Belle, herself, remains standoffish), the reader comes to love them as well. It's difficult not to become absorbed in their dramas and heartaches, of which there are, of course, many. Lavinia's stunningly naive, sometimes too much so to be truly believable, but she's also a sympathetic character whose trials are many. The reader feels for her as well, especially when she makes disastrous mistakes that will inevitably lead to only misery and pain. If The Kitchen House sounds like a dark, haunting tale, that's because it is. But it's also a rich, affecting story about the true meaning of family and the desperate lengths we will go to in order to protect those we love. I read it in one sitting; it's that compelling.
(Readalikes: Reminded me of other stories about slavery and class/racial struggle, like The House Girl by Tara Conklin; The Cutting Season by Attica Locke; The Help by Kathryn Stockett; and others)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:(Readalikes: Reminded me of other stories about slavery and class/racial struggle, like The House Girl by Tara Conklin; The Cutting Season by Attica Locke; The Help by Kathryn Stockett; and others)
Grade:
for violence, sexual innuendo/content and other mature subject matter
To the FTC, with love: I bought a copy of The Kitchen House from Costco (I think) with a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger. Ha ha.
Monday, June 03, 2013
It Made Me Laugh, It Made Me Think, It Made Me Curse, It Made Me Cry ...
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
Isabelle McAllister and Dorrie Curtis aren't family, nor are they exactly bosom buddies. But, when the 89-year-old widow finds herself in need of a favor—a very big favor—Dorrie's the only person she can think of to ask. Despite their differences, the two women have grown close over the years and yet, there's plenty they don't know about each other. Isabelle's not sure she's ready to spill all her secrets; still, she knows she can't do what she needs to do without Dorrie by her side.
Dorrie's grown fond of Isabelle during the years she's been styling the old woman's hair. Still, Dorrie's dumbfounded by her client's strange request. She knows Isabelle's too elderly to drive herself from their home in Texas all the way to Cincinatti. She also knows she'd do anything for Miss Isabelle, even if the woman won't divulge the reason for the trip. What Dorrie doesn't know is why Isabelle chose her for this task, or what awaits them in Ohio. Truth is, it doesn't matter. Dorrie could use a little vacay—all that time on the road will give her time to ponder her own troubles, while learning more about the enigmatic Isabelle McAllister.
The women make a strange pair—Isabelle's an elderly white widow, Dorrie's a black, single mom in her 30s. But, as the pair drive across the country, they discover they have more in common than not. And, as Dorrie hears the story of Isabelle's forbidden romance with the son of her family's black housekeeper during the early 1940s in a Kentucky town African-Americans weren't even allowed to step foot in after dark, she realizes that a little of Isabelle's courage might be just the thing she needs to conquer her own fears.
One glance at the cover of Calling Me Home, a debut novel by Julie Kibler, is all it took to convince me I needed to read this book. The plot summary just intrigued me more. It was the author's bio, though, that really sealed the deal. Why? Because, it explains that Isabelle's story grew out of a bit of Kibler family lore. How irresistible is that? Very. Even better, Calling Me Home lives up to its gorgeous cover and beguiling premise. It's warm, tender, vibrant, heart-breaking—everything a great story should be. Some of the plot "surprises" weren't all that surprising but still, this novel made me laugh, made me think, made me curse, made me cry. I loved it.
(Readalikes: Reminds me a little of The Help by Kathryn Stockett and Jericho Walls by Kristi Collier)
Grade: A-
If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG-13 for language (no F-bombs), racial epithets, violence, and mild sexual content
To the FTC, with love: Another library fine find
Wednesday, October 03, 2012
Sweeping Southern Mystery Begs to Be Read
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
Hendrix, a tiny backwater town in northern Florida, holds its share of secrets. And more. Jolie's heard the whispers and rumors all her life. She's a Hoyt, after all, and thus aware of her family's sometimes unsavory history, if not privy to the details. As tight-lipped as the rest of her kin, 18-year-old Jolie knows better than to go blabbing about skeletons in the Hoyt Family closets. Then, Sam Lense comes along. A Jewish graduate student from Miami, the 24-year-old is, without a doubt, the most exotic person ever to stroll down the streets of Hendrix. It's not long before Jolie and Sam are getting cozy in Sam's cramped RV, not long before she's introducing him to the relatives, only a wee bit longer before he's getting a little too close to secrets the Hoyts would just as soon keep buried. Forever.
Twelve years after Sam leaves Hendrix, vowing never to return, a black businessman comes to town, stirring up the kind of trouble Sam never could leave well enough alone. Before he knows it, he's back in Hendrix. He's older, wiser, but still vulnerable to the town's peculiar brand of magic. Jolie's not keen on having a bunch of outsiders sticking their noses where they don't belong, especially since it's her family that's under investigation. Still, in spite of herself, Jolie finds that she needs to know the truth behind one of the biggest, ugliest, most notorious events in the history of the Hoyt family. Even if it gets all of them killed. And it just might.
Although American Ghost (available October 9, 2012) by Janis Owens is many things, the adjective that comes to mind most readily is atmospheric. All good Southern novels are, of course, and usually charmingly so. This one? Not so much. Its Southern folk are quirky, alright, as is their one-horse town, but in a way that's more sinister than sweet. Hendrix, as Owens makes perfectly clear, is not the kind of place you want to live in or visit or even pass through. Which, of course, makes it the perfect setting for a tense, haunting story like American Ghost. The really weird thing is, the more time you spend in Hendrix, the more it seduces you, too. Because, despite its scabbed-over appearance, the town just might become a place where two misfits can find truth, redemption and maybe—despite insurmountable odds—their own kind of happily ever after. Engrossing and memorable, American Ghost is one of those books that just begs to be read.
(Readalikes: Reminded me a little of Winter's Bone by Daniel Woodrell and a bit of A Time to Kill by John Grisham)
Grade: B+
If this were a movie, it would be rated: R for strong language, sexual content and violence
To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of American Ghost from the generous folks at Scribner (an imprint of Simon and Schuster) via ELLE magazine's Reader's Jury program. Thank you!
Twelve years after Sam leaves Hendrix, vowing never to return, a black businessman comes to town, stirring up the kind of trouble Sam never could leave well enough alone. Before he knows it, he's back in Hendrix. He's older, wiser, but still vulnerable to the town's peculiar brand of magic. Jolie's not keen on having a bunch of outsiders sticking their noses where they don't belong, especially since it's her family that's under investigation. Still, in spite of herself, Jolie finds that she needs to know the truth behind one of the biggest, ugliest, most notorious events in the history of the Hoyt family. Even if it gets all of them killed. And it just might.
Although American Ghost (available October 9, 2012) by Janis Owens is many things, the adjective that comes to mind most readily is atmospheric. All good Southern novels are, of course, and usually charmingly so. This one? Not so much. Its Southern folk are quirky, alright, as is their one-horse town, but in a way that's more sinister than sweet. Hendrix, as Owens makes perfectly clear, is not the kind of place you want to live in or visit or even pass through. Which, of course, makes it the perfect setting for a tense, haunting story like American Ghost. The really weird thing is, the more time you spend in Hendrix, the more it seduces you, too. Because, despite its scabbed-over appearance, the town just might become a place where two misfits can find truth, redemption and maybe—despite insurmountable odds—their own kind of happily ever after. Engrossing and memorable, American Ghost is one of those books that just begs to be read.
(Readalikes: Reminded me a little of Winter's Bone by Daniel Woodrell and a bit of A Time to Kill by John Grisham)
Grade: B+
If this were a movie, it would be rated: R for strong language, sexual content and violence
To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of American Ghost from the generous folks at Scribner (an imprint of Simon and Schuster) via ELLE magazine's Reader's Jury program. Thank you!
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Magic of Setting Doesn't Carry Over to Plot in New Southern Women's Novel
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
Since the excessive heat here in Arizona seems to have zapped any ability I may have had to write a decent plot summary, I'm going to cheat. Want to know what Safe Within by Jean Reynolds Page is all about? Here's the back cover copy:
Elaine and Carson Forsythe have returned to the tree house—Elaine's childhood home, a cabin nestled high in the branches of two oaks beside a North Carolina lake—where forty-nine-year-old Carson has chosen to spend the waning days of his life. As Elaine prepares for a future without her beloved husband, their solace is interrupted. Carson's mother, Greta, has set loose a neighbor's herd of alpaca and landed herself in police custody. While Carson, remarkably, sees humor in the situation, Elaine can only question what her obligations are—and will be—to a woman who hasn't spoken to her in more than twenty years.Even with only the plot summary to go on, you can tell that Safe Within is one of those novels where the setting is as vividly portrayed as any of the characters. Page's small, Southern town feels true-to-life, as do her story people. Not all of them are pleasant to be around—in fact, some of them are downright depressing—but they definitely come alive for the reader. My problem with the book has more to do with the plot, which seems to meander this way and that, without really going anywhere. The subplots aren't any better; some feel tacked on (the whole racism thing), others (like the truth about Elaine and Wallace) are just kind of unimpressive. Overall, Safe Within left me feeling ambivalent and a little disappointed. I loved the novel's setting and really wanted the rest of the story to match it in originality and magic. Bummer that it didn't.
In the wake of Carson's death, Elaine and their grown son, Mick, are thrust into the maelstrom of Greta, the mother-in-law and grandmother who never accepted either of them. Just as they are trying to figure out their new roles in the family, Mick uncovers unexpected questions of his own. A long-ago teenage relationship with a local girl may have left him with more than just memories, and he must get to the bottom of Greta's surprising accusations that he's not Carson's son at all.
(Readalikes: Reminded me of books by Dorothea Benton Frank and Anne Rivers Siddons)
Grade: C
If this were a movie, it would be rated: R for language and sexual content
To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of Safe Within from the generous folks at Harper Collins via those at TLC Book Tours. Thank you!
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Summer Novel's Got More Depth Than You'd Think
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
Ruth Wasserman should be content with her life. Not only has she finally managed to burn off the extra pounds that have plagued her for most of her 19 years, but she's also living on her own and working hard to earn a college degree. Now that she's returned home to Alabama for the summer, she should have only one thing on her mind: relaxation. If only. It's not her lifeguard/swim coach job that's got her worried (she could do it in her sleep) or seeing old friends (she looks better now than she ever has), it's the fact that she'll be living with her parents (loving, but overprotective) and her older brother, David (the charming, soccer-playing wonder child). How can she keep her secret to staying slim, well ... secret? 
Turns out, Ruth's not the only one hiding something. David's never been all that chatty anyway, but now he's downright standoffish. He's not acting like himself. The question is why? What's he hiding? Then, there are Ruth's parents, who are also acting strange. What's up with them? As Ruth tries to figure out what's going on with her family, deals with drama at the pool, and tries to keep her eating disorder under wraps, she finds the summer becoming a whole lot more complicated than she ever dreamed it could be. When a near drowning happens while Ruth and David are on the job, it will force them to face truths they've been ignoring for too long—truths about themselves, their family, and the quaint little town in which they've grown up.
(Readalikes: Hm, I can't really think of anything. Can you?)
Grade: C
If this were a movie, it would be rated: R for language, sexual content and depictions of underrage drinking and illegal drug use
To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of Saving Ruth from the generous folks at William Morrow (an imprint of Harper Collins) and TLC Book Tours. Thank you!
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Black Boy, White School Frank, Affecting
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
Anthony "Ant" Jones has never really felt safe in his inner-city East Cleveland neigh
borhood. Teeming with gangsters, drugs and crime, it's the kind of place where violence can break out at any time over any little thing. The 14-year-old is used to it, but when his best friend is killed in a drive-by, Ant knows he can't stay in the ghetto for one more minute. Fortunately, he's got a way out—he's been offered a scholarship to an exclusive boarding school in Maine. Unfortunately, Belton Academy's student body is made up mostly of kids who are wealthy and white, two things Ant most certainly is not. It's not the ideal situation for a black city boy, but Ant's determined to make the best of it.
borhood. Teeming with gangsters, drugs and crime, it's the kind of place where violence can break out at any time over any little thing. The 14-year-old is used to it, but when his best friend is killed in a drive-by, Ant knows he can't stay in the ghetto for one more minute. Fortunately, he's got a way out—he's been offered a scholarship to an exclusive boarding school in Maine. Unfortunately, Belton Academy's student body is made up mostly of kids who are wealthy and white, two things Ant most certainly is not. It's not the ideal situation for a black city boy, but Ant's determined to make the best of it.
When he arrives at Belton, Ant's happy to discover he's not the only minority in residence. There are a few oth
ers, most of whom are athletes, all of whom are there thanks to financial aid. Ant doesn't like the message Belton's meager attempt at diversification sends—not all black people are poor and good at basketball (his game, for instance, needs some serious help). Determined to change that image, Ant does his best to fit in. Only he doesn't. Not really. His temper flares every time someone looks askance at him, he bristles each time someone assumes something about him because of his skin color, and he gets especially riled up when his black friends accuse him of becoming too white. The more time Ant spends in his whitewashed new world, the more he begins to wonder who he really is. Is he some prep-school white boy wannabe or a tough-as-nails E.C. homeboy? Both? Neither? As Ant struggles to find his place in the world, he has to ask himself some tough questions—and face the hard truths revealed by his answers.
ers, most of whom are athletes, all of whom are there thanks to financial aid. Ant doesn't like the message Belton's meager attempt at diversification sends—not all black people are poor and good at basketball (his game, for instance, needs some serious help). Determined to change that image, Ant does his best to fit in. Only he doesn't. Not really. His temper flares every time someone looks askance at him, he bristles each time someone assumes something about him because of his skin color, and he gets especially riled up when his black friends accuse him of becoming too white. The more time Ant spends in his whitewashed new world, the more he begins to wonder who he really is. Is he some prep-school white boy wannabe or a tough-as-nails E.C. homeboy? Both? Neither? As Ant struggles to find his place in the world, he has to ask himself some tough questions—and face the hard truths revealed by his answers.
Black Boy, White School, a debut novel by Brian F. Walker, takes a hard look at issues like race, inner-city violence, poverty and white privilege . The author, whose life path curved in similar ways as that of his protagonist's, clearly knows his stuff—not just the gritty details of ghetto life, but also the difficulties minorities face when navigating their way through an often biased, all-white world. While Walker focuses on racism toward black students, he remains sensitive to the fact that prejudice goes both ways, making his story ring authentic and true. White readers may still be put off by Walker's frank discussions of uncomfortable subjects, but it's difficult to deny the need for YA books that address these issues in honest, affecting ways, especially through the eyes of black protagonists. That being said, I would have liked Black Boy, White School to have a little more plot, a lot better character development, and a less predictable ending. Walker's storytelling seemed to sag under the weight of the messages he was trying so hard to get across. Perhaps that kind of subtlety simply comes with experience, which bodes well for Walker, who will no doubt hone his skills with every new book he writes.
(Readalikes: Reminded me a bit of What Can't Wait by Ashley Hope Perez; Standing Against the Wind by Traci L. Jones; 8th Grade Superzero by Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich; and books by Walter Dean Myers)
Grade: C
If this were a movie, it would be rated: R for strong language, violence, sexual innuendo and scenes depicting underrage drinking and illegal drug use
To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of Black Boy, White School from the generous folks at HarperTeen. Thank you!
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Lions of Little Rock Warm, Memorable Story of "The Lost Year"
(Image from Barnes & Noble) Marlee Nesbitt never says much. It's not that she doesn't have an opinion, it's just that
she can't seem to push the words out of her mouth without tying them into a hopeless knot. So the 12-year-old stays quiet. Most people let her be and Marlee's (pretty much) fine with that. Then, Elizabeth Fullerton swishes into West Side Junior High. The new girl is confident, fearless and never afraid to express herself. She's everything Marlee's not and yet, by some crazy miracle, Liz wants to be Marlee's friend. Turns out, they can teach each other a thing or two - Marlee tutors Liz on holding her tongue while Liz helps draw Marlee out of her shell. It doesn't take them long to become bosom buddies.
When Liz disappears, Marlee gets a shock: the rumor mill says Liz was kicked out of school because she's a "colored" girl trying to "pass" as white. Which simply can't be true - L
iz is as white as Marlee. It's only when Marlee ventures into the colored part of town that she confirms what everyone else is saying: Liz really does come from a black family. Even though she looks white, she's not. Meaning Liz can't attend a white school. Meaning Liz and Marlee can no longer hang out together. Meaning Marlee's about to lose the best friend she's ever had.
The 1958-59 school year is a tense one in Little Rock, Arkansas. All high schools in the city - white and colored - are closed to prevent integration. Despite Brown v. the Board of Education. Despite the courageous actions of the Little Rock Nine. Despite the well-intentioned protests of WEC and STOP campaigns. The result is a city rife with anger, emotion and fear, a city where supporting educational equality can be not just dangerous, but deadly.
Marlee knows all this, she just can't understand it. Why should she be kept away from a girl as nice and fun as Liz, just because of the color of her family's skin? It's not fair. And Marlee refuses to accept that "that's just the way it is." Now, the girl who never says a thing is going to take a stand. If only she can find the words. If only she can find the guts. If only she can find the voice that's been eluding her her whole life. If only.
While most books about school integration focus on the tumultuous year of 1957, the year nine brave African-American students integrated Little Rock Central High School, Kristin Levine takes a unique approach. Her novel, The Lions of Little Rock (available January 5, 2012), unfolds in 1958-59, a time known as "the lost year." While I've heard all about the Little Rock Nine, I think I've always assumed that they marched in, integrated the schools, and that was that. Well, as Levine proves in her vivid, well-researched story, that was not it at all. While the issue of school integration was batted about by voters, protestors and politicians, teenage students missed an entire year of instruction. Families were torn apart over the polarizing issue, property was damaged, people were terrorized and Little Rock became known as a hotbed of racism. Through the eyes of Marlee Nesbitt, we see it all, experience it all. Most of all, we feel it all - the injustice, the irony, the hypocrisy - through the heart of a young girl who just wants a friend. Marlee's earnestness makes her story warmhearted, meaningful and, most of all, memorable. I loved it.
(Readalikes: Jericho Walls by Kristi Collier, Flygirl by Sherri L. Smith and With the Might of Angels by Andrea Davis Pinkney)
Grade: B+
If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG for violence, mild language, and racial slurs
To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of The Lions of Little Rock from the generous folks at Putnam (a division of Penguin). Thank you!
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