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This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
This is a backlist book that has been on my TBR for years. And every once in awhile I see it pop up on bookstagram as an old/undersold favorite of some of my fellow readers. So, when I made my Beat the Backlist choices for this past year, I figured it was time to get to this one. Similarly to A Gentleman in Moscow, I managed to wait until the very last minute to get it in this year. And similarly, it was worth the wait.
In a small village in rural Chechnya, Havaa’s father is “disappeared,” and her home burned to the ground, by the Feds (Russian soldiers) in the middle of the night. Her neighbor and family friend, Akhmed, finds her hiding in the woods the next day with her suitcase of “souvenirs.” Knowing that she will not be safe in the village, Akhmed takes her to the only place he can think of, the abandoned hospital where the only remaining doctor, Sonja, treats the local wounded. Sonja, exhausted from overwork and dealing with her own losses, is uninterested in adding Havaa to her list of responsibilities. But over the next five days, histories and links among the three will be revealed that change both their relationships to each other and the paths of their futures.
This is a fascinating story of interconnected lives. I love when individual narrative threads can be woven together seamlessly into a larger tapestry that, even when the individual players do not (or cannot) see the whole thing, it is something special to behold when viewed from the reader’s omniscient position. And that is a story-telling style that Marra accomplished with extreme deftness in this book. It is fascinating that all the pieces come together to show how loyalties and lives have led to this point: how Havaa ended up with Sonja at the hospital and how they will move forwards together. Yet the story itself is not at all about Havaa, but rather the pasts of all those around her and how their experiences shape their decisions regarding her. Akhmed’s failures in medical school, Khassan’s failures as a parent, Sonja and her sister, Natasha’s, failures with each other, and more. Yet all these failures lead to decisions that will make a future for Havaa that she never would have had otherwise. The small ways that each story intersects with the others are fascinating. And these “star-crossed” paths of our characters are especially compelling because they are told as just smaller fragments of their much larger lives. We learn so much about the full histories, memories and hopes of our characters that they are full and deep and, even when they make difficult or ugly decisions, they are still entirely sympathetic. In fact, the intricacies of their stories, the minutiae of the detail Marra gives us for each of them, makes them so real that you cannot help but put yourself in their shoes. It does not take much actual imagination to imagine them as real people. Each of them goes through their lives doing what they need to in order to survive, to provide for their families. It’s only the circumstances under which they must make the decisions that separate their actions from our own. And truly, one can only hope to never be put in some of the impossible and painful positions these people are. That these stories are, per interviews with the author, based even in part of nonfiction accounts, is tragic beyond words. But even through all that, there is a strand of appropriately dark humor, both in the writing and in the character’s own dialogue, that brings a sort of levity to the situations and characters.
I’m not sure that there is a good place for me to add this next bit in, so I’ll just go ahead and pop it here. I was grateful for the mix of realism and hope that permeated this novel. Although it is never easy to lose a character, and one never wants to hope for anything but a happy ending, it is important to stay true, if one is writing a truthful representation. And this book is nothing if not an attempt to truthfully represent a widely unknown, incredibly difficult (at times terrible) part of world history. So, I liked that some stories had what one would consider “happy” endings, as much as possible under the circumstances of loss and deprivation. But I also really liked that some endings were known only to us as readers, though their families/friends will never know what actually happened (this “ending” was perhaps the most gratifying to me, personally…but I won’t say who it is, to avoid spoilers). And I loved that some endings, though nothing but tragic, were nevertheless satisfying in the knowledge that their sacrifices are ones that they met knowing that, at least for them, it was not for nothing. And too, at the end of the day, perhaps these less than happy endings may shine a light on so many actual persons’ fates.
As far as the writing itself, it’s honestly gorgeous. Marra has a way with words that emphasizes the small things, the things that make a life a life, a memory a memory, so perfectly. It’s such a compellingly and intelligently written novel, but one that never gets so wrapped up in the language that the story itself is lost. That line, of elaborate writing that doesn’t overtake the plot, is one I do not often see walked this well. I loved how warm and rich this story felt, even when the events were nothing but cold and horrifying. To that point – there were definitely some graphic moments, but never anything gratuitous. And as a small note, I loved his use of one particular device: he sprinkled, randomly throughout the novel, many glimpses of insight into the future based on little moments or objects in the present. For example, how Natasha’s “map” of the city ends up in a museum years from now or a wounded soldier’s future living alone with all his mother’s cats. These little asides were never long, never distracted from the main plot, but add an extra, extremely poignant, layer to the reader’s understanding and impression of the characters and setting.
Honestly, I don’t think I have the words to accurately describe how flawless all the little moments and connections in the novel were. There were so many times that I actually let out an audible sigh of contentment, at how exactly right a detail seemed, how perfectly placed. And the connection of Havaa and Sonja, the roles one family played in the fate of the other, and the metaphorical irony in their finding each other after all that, is timeless. A situation explained and encompassed perfectly by the title (I don’t always “get” titles, but this one was brilliant). The only word I could think of, upon finishing the last page, was “immense.” This story is immense, partially in its scope of bringing light to the human condition, and partially in a way that I cannot explain. I just felt like I was filled with something…immense.
“She had believed happiness to be an absence – of fear, or pain, of grief – but here it roared in her
as powerful as any sadness.”
“Life: a constellation of vital phenomena – organization, irritability, movement, growth, reproduction, adaptation.”
“But no life is a line, and hers was an uneven orbit around a dark star, a moth circling a dead bulb, searching for the light it once held.”
This is a backlist book that has been on my TBR for years. And every once in awhile I see it pop up on bookstagram as an old/undersold favorite of some of my fellow readers. So, when I made my Beat the Backlist choices for this past year, I figured it was time to get to this one. Similarly to A Gentleman in Moscow, I managed to wait until the very last minute to get it in this year. And similarly, it was worth the wait.
In a small village in rural Chechnya, Havaa’s father is “disappeared,” and her home burned to the ground, by the Feds (Russian soldiers) in the middle of the night. Her neighbor and family friend, Akhmed, finds her hiding in the woods the next day with her suitcase of “souvenirs.” Knowing that she will not be safe in the village, Akhmed takes her to the only place he can think of, the abandoned hospital where the only remaining doctor, Sonja, treats the local wounded. Sonja, exhausted from overwork and dealing with her own losses, is uninterested in adding Havaa to her list of responsibilities. But over the next five days, histories and links among the three will be revealed that change both their relationships to each other and the paths of their futures.
This is a fascinating story of interconnected lives. I love when individual narrative threads can be woven together seamlessly into a larger tapestry that, even when the individual players do not (or cannot) see the whole thing, it is something special to behold when viewed from the reader’s omniscient position. And that is a story-telling style that Marra accomplished with extreme deftness in this book. It is fascinating that all the pieces come together to show how loyalties and lives have led to this point: how Havaa ended up with Sonja at the hospital and how they will move forwards together. Yet the story itself is not at all about Havaa, but rather the pasts of all those around her and how their experiences shape their decisions regarding her. Akhmed’s failures in medical school, Khassan’s failures as a parent, Sonja and her sister, Natasha’s, failures with each other, and more. Yet all these failures lead to decisions that will make a future for Havaa that she never would have had otherwise. The small ways that each story intersects with the others are fascinating. And these “star-crossed” paths of our characters are especially compelling because they are told as just smaller fragments of their much larger lives. We learn so much about the full histories, memories and hopes of our characters that they are full and deep and, even when they make difficult or ugly decisions, they are still entirely sympathetic. In fact, the intricacies of their stories, the minutiae of the detail Marra gives us for each of them, makes them so real that you cannot help but put yourself in their shoes. It does not take much actual imagination to imagine them as real people. Each of them goes through their lives doing what they need to in order to survive, to provide for their families. It’s only the circumstances under which they must make the decisions that separate their actions from our own. And truly, one can only hope to never be put in some of the impossible and painful positions these people are. That these stories are, per interviews with the author, based even in part of nonfiction accounts, is tragic beyond words. But even through all that, there is a strand of appropriately dark humor, both in the writing and in the character’s own dialogue, that brings a sort of levity to the situations and characters.
I’m not sure that there is a good place for me to add this next bit in, so I’ll just go ahead and pop it here. I was grateful for the mix of realism and hope that permeated this novel. Although it is never easy to lose a character, and one never wants to hope for anything but a happy ending, it is important to stay true, if one is writing a truthful representation. And this book is nothing if not an attempt to truthfully represent a widely unknown, incredibly difficult (at times terrible) part of world history. So, I liked that some stories had what one would consider “happy” endings, as much as possible under the circumstances of loss and deprivation. But I also really liked that some endings were known only to us as readers, though their families/friends will never know what actually happened (this “ending” was perhaps the most gratifying to me, personally…but I won’t say who it is, to avoid spoilers). And I loved that some endings, though nothing but tragic, were nevertheless satisfying in the knowledge that their sacrifices are ones that they met knowing that, at least for them, it was not for nothing. And too, at the end of the day, perhaps these less than happy endings may shine a light on so many actual persons’ fates.
As far as the writing itself, it’s honestly gorgeous. Marra has a way with words that emphasizes the small things, the things that make a life a life, a memory a memory, so perfectly. It’s such a compellingly and intelligently written novel, but one that never gets so wrapped up in the language that the story itself is lost. That line, of elaborate writing that doesn’t overtake the plot, is one I do not often see walked this well. I loved how warm and rich this story felt, even when the events were nothing but cold and horrifying. To that point – there were definitely some graphic moments, but never anything gratuitous. And as a small note, I loved his use of one particular device: he sprinkled, randomly throughout the novel, many glimpses of insight into the future based on little moments or objects in the present. For example, how Natasha’s “map” of the city ends up in a museum years from now or a wounded soldier’s future living alone with all his mother’s cats. These little asides were never long, never distracted from the main plot, but add an extra, extremely poignant, layer to the reader’s understanding and impression of the characters and setting.
Honestly, I don’t think I have the words to accurately describe how flawless all the little moments and connections in the novel were. There were so many times that I actually let out an audible sigh of contentment, at how exactly right a detail seemed, how perfectly placed. And the connection of Havaa and Sonja, the roles one family played in the fate of the other, and the metaphorical irony in their finding each other after all that, is timeless. A situation explained and encompassed perfectly by the title (I don’t always “get” titles, but this one was brilliant). The only word I could think of, upon finishing the last page, was “immense.” This story is immense, partially in its scope of bringing light to the human condition, and partially in a way that I cannot explain. I just felt like I was filled with something…immense.
“She had believed happiness to be an absence – of fear, or pain, of grief – but here it roared in her
as powerful as any sadness.”
“Life: a constellation of vital phenomena – organization, irritability, movement, growth, reproduction, adaptation.”
“But no life is a line, and hers was an uneven orbit around a dark star, a moth circling a dead bulb, searching for the light it once held.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
Zadie Smith is one of those authors that I have been meaning to read forever and, for whatever reason, haven’t gotten to yet. She is fairly prolific, I own a couple books by her, and pretty much everything she has written have gotten generally positive reviews. To that end, I think I wasn’t sure where to start…and that had me in a weirdly paralyzing stasis regarding her works. However, as I was browsing through the library for my next audiobook, I saw a couple by her and had a spur of the moment “now is the time!” reaction. I chose by picking the only audiobook available that I owned a physical copy of. I like having that on hand while listening, in case I want to look back at anything or mark a favorite passage/moment. In any case, that’s how NW won.
So according to the inside cover, this is the story of four people, Natalie, Leah, Felix and Nathan, who all live in (or are from) a certain area in the northwest corner of London. It’s about city-living and the people who pass by each other each day, may recognize each other on sight, but are living wildly different lives. Some are “successful” and some are not, some live in a grand home and some are homeless, some have power and prestige while some do not. This is the saga of people’s lives.
I have to start by saying that I really don’t know how I felt about this book. For full disclosure, I listened to it as an audiobook. And the narrators were fantastic. But the writing style itself – choppy in cadence, almost like poetry at times, and quick back and forth dialogue and inner monologue with no written “he said/she said” for clarification make it difficult to follow at times. So, from the beginning, it was a struggle for me to get fully into the book. I think, after realizing the situation and beginning to reference/follow along in the physical copy, things clarified some. But I think I also realized that, even if I had only read this (and done no audio at all) I still would have struggled to get into the flow of the story. I think, at least for me, the style was a little too avant garde and I felt like perhaps I wasn’t cool or sophisticated enough to really get it.
Unfortunately, this disconnect I had with the writing carried over to my connections with the characters and their lives. This is one of those books that does not have a plot, per se. We are dropped into the characters’ lives a given a sort of snapshot of how they live. This includes, for each of them history and background, so it’s not a “present day only” snapshot. And I did really like the context that gave us as readers, allowing us to see what they were feeling and experiencing through the window of their pasts. This was particularly important in regards to Natalie and Leah, who had been friends since childhood and grown up together. We were able to see the way their relationship changed as they changed, and understand the way they compared themselves to each other as their lives diverged and re-crossed. Honestly, there were many things about their lives that I recognized and empathized with. They experienced many universal [female] truths, from imposter syndrome to existential concerns about how they’d “made it” to stress over where they were vs where they thought they should be. And, in particular, I identified with Leah’s struggles regarding procreating – and the pressures to have children, even if you are sure it’s not what you want. But despite that, despite sharing all that with these two protagonists, I still felt incredibly distant from their story. Again, I assume part of the reason for my detachment as a reader were the stylistic choices Smith made. But I don’t think that’s all it was…
There were other things that I wasn’t sure of while reading. For example, Felix and Nathan. I see where their stories crossed with Leah and Natalie (multiple times, really) and how that added some context and a bit of structure to this otherwise nebulous glimpse into our characters’ lives. But at the same time, I think this should definitely be billed as a story of friendship, Natalie and Leah’s, and Nathan and Felix should not at all be mentioned on the cover flap. Despite there being a bit of an interlude between Leah and Natalie’s “sections” (the two major parts of the story being written from their perspectives) when we get Felix’s story…I didn’t feel like he mattered enough to the two women to warrant a whole section in his voice. With that, I felt like Nathan and Felix’s connection(s) to the overall story were sometimes so vague as to be unclear. Like, at the end, I felt like I missed an important detail related to Natalie’s evening on the streets with Nathan and went back and reread the whole thing, only to not find the answer to why Natalie felt like he was involved in…the end of Felix’s story (trying not to spoil anything). Maybe I did miss something, but the fact that I couldn’t find it after a listen and a reread means that, at least in my opinion, perhaps it’s too cryptic.
Overall, I completely see why this was given acclaim as a book about a city. Truly, this part of London comes alive in Smith’s hands. It’s clear that she is very familiar with it and she breathes that life into it for us as readers. I also felt like her ability to create very real characters is wonderful. They are fully dimensional and authentic. And, as I mentioned, so many of the things they deal with are familiar to me, as I am sure they are to many people. But the crafting of the
“plot,” such as it is, and the overall fragmented style of the writing and story-delivery just were not for me. Ah well.
“How do you get to be so full? And so full of only meaningful things?”
“…generosity was not an infinite quantity and had to be employed strategically where it was most needed.”
“Strange family. Only kind there is.”
Zadie Smith is one of those authors that I have been meaning to read forever and, for whatever reason, haven’t gotten to yet. She is fairly prolific, I own a couple books by her, and pretty much everything she has written have gotten generally positive reviews. To that end, I think I wasn’t sure where to start…and that had me in a weirdly paralyzing stasis regarding her works. However, as I was browsing through the library for my next audiobook, I saw a couple by her and had a spur of the moment “now is the time!” reaction. I chose by picking the only audiobook available that I owned a physical copy of. I like having that on hand while listening, in case I want to look back at anything or mark a favorite passage/moment. In any case, that’s how NW won.
So according to the inside cover, this is the story of four people, Natalie, Leah, Felix and Nathan, who all live in (or are from) a certain area in the northwest corner of London. It’s about city-living and the people who pass by each other each day, may recognize each other on sight, but are living wildly different lives. Some are “successful” and some are not, some live in a grand home and some are homeless, some have power and prestige while some do not. This is the saga of people’s lives.
I have to start by saying that I really don’t know how I felt about this book. For full disclosure, I listened to it as an audiobook. And the narrators were fantastic. But the writing style itself – choppy in cadence, almost like poetry at times, and quick back and forth dialogue and inner monologue with no written “he said/she said” for clarification make it difficult to follow at times. So, from the beginning, it was a struggle for me to get fully into the book. I think, after realizing the situation and beginning to reference/follow along in the physical copy, things clarified some. But I think I also realized that, even if I had only read this (and done no audio at all) I still would have struggled to get into the flow of the story. I think, at least for me, the style was a little too avant garde and I felt like perhaps I wasn’t cool or sophisticated enough to really get it.
Unfortunately, this disconnect I had with the writing carried over to my connections with the characters and their lives. This is one of those books that does not have a plot, per se. We are dropped into the characters’ lives a given a sort of snapshot of how they live. This includes, for each of them history and background, so it’s not a “present day only” snapshot. And I did really like the context that gave us as readers, allowing us to see what they were feeling and experiencing through the window of their pasts. This was particularly important in regards to Natalie and Leah, who had been friends since childhood and grown up together. We were able to see the way their relationship changed as they changed, and understand the way they compared themselves to each other as their lives diverged and re-crossed. Honestly, there were many things about their lives that I recognized and empathized with. They experienced many universal [female] truths, from imposter syndrome to existential concerns about how they’d “made it” to stress over where they were vs where they thought they should be. And, in particular, I identified with Leah’s struggles regarding procreating – and the pressures to have children, even if you are sure it’s not what you want. But despite that, despite sharing all that with these two protagonists, I still felt incredibly distant from their story. Again, I assume part of the reason for my detachment as a reader were the stylistic choices Smith made. But I don’t think that’s all it was…
There were other things that I wasn’t sure of while reading. For example, Felix and Nathan. I see where their stories crossed with Leah and Natalie (multiple times, really) and how that added some context and a bit of structure to this otherwise nebulous glimpse into our characters’ lives. But at the same time, I think this should definitely be billed as a story of friendship, Natalie and Leah’s, and Nathan and Felix should not at all be mentioned on the cover flap. Despite there being a bit of an interlude between Leah and Natalie’s “sections” (the two major parts of the story being written from their perspectives) when we get Felix’s story…I didn’t feel like he mattered enough to the two women to warrant a whole section in his voice. With that, I felt like Nathan and Felix’s connection(s) to the overall story were sometimes so vague as to be unclear. Like, at the end, I felt like I missed an important detail related to Natalie’s evening on the streets with Nathan and went back and reread the whole thing, only to not find the answer to why Natalie felt like he was involved in…the end of Felix’s story (trying not to spoil anything). Maybe I did miss something, but the fact that I couldn’t find it after a listen and a reread means that, at least in my opinion, perhaps it’s too cryptic.
Overall, I completely see why this was given acclaim as a book about a city. Truly, this part of London comes alive in Smith’s hands. It’s clear that she is very familiar with it and she breathes that life into it for us as readers. I also felt like her ability to create very real characters is wonderful. They are fully dimensional and authentic. And, as I mentioned, so many of the things they deal with are familiar to me, as I am sure they are to many people. But the crafting of the
“plot,” such as it is, and the overall fragmented style of the writing and story-delivery just were not for me. Ah well.
“How do you get to be so full? And so full of only meaningful things?”
“…generosity was not an infinite quantity and had to be employed strategically where it was most needed.”
“Strange family. Only kind there is.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
Well, I broke one of my cardinal rules for this book. And am I sorry? Not realllllly. But have I reinforced why I have that rule in the first place? YES. What’s the rule, you ask? Well, I learned this the hard way, but I do not read books in a series unless they whole series is published. I have to be honest with you, I break this rule so often. But really, every time I do it, I end up so annoyed at myself because I want more of the story IMMEDIATELY. I do not want to wait, sometimes years, for the next book to be published. And I hate myself, (serious, real, hate), if the book ends with a big cliffhanger. Seriously, cliffhangers are one of my LEAST FAVORITE literary devices. Like, if you write the story/characters well enough, I’ll want to read more about them even without you leaving me dangling over a fire pit or in the maws of some terrible beast for YEARS. Plus, I am not typically a rereader, and I hate that I forget details waiting for the next book to be published and then struggle between the choice to reread the first one(s) or just jump right in and hope enough details come back to me as I go. Anyways, sorry about that baby rant. Long story short, I read this first book in a trilogy, freaking LOVED it, and now I have to wait months for book two and years for book three. Woe. Is. Me.
Nahri has gotten by in the streets and markets of Cairo for years as a con woman. She’s always had a little talent for telling what ails a person, and uses that to her advantage (along with faked tea and palm readings) to swindle people out of their money. But when she accidently calls an ancient djinn warrior during one of her “healings,” things change…quickly. The djinn spirits her away, across the desert, to a legendary city of djinn, Daevabad, where centuries of old resentments and magics are brewing into the perfect storm. A storm that she finds herself right in the center of, as her unknown origins are suddenly too known. And all her wishing to study as a real healer and to know more about her past are making her very aware that one should be careful what they wish for.
I absolutely loved the Middle Eastern folklore in this novel. I have always been particularly interested in the mythologies of different cultures, but I have a particular affinity for Middle Eastern tales. Fun fact, I minored in Arabic language in undergrad. My husband is Lebanese and was studying the language and culture to learn more about his own family history, as well as to use in his career (he was in the Air Force, though that is, long story short, no longer what he does). Anyways, while I cannot speak or read much anymore (you lose what you don’t practice, sadly), I love that I can still write it. It is seriously the most gorgeous written language. Anyways, back to this review. We’ve established that I’m into all stories djinn-related. So I knew that I would love this novel. I waited awhile to read it (that pesky first novel in an unfinished series thing), but I knew I wouldn’t make it that long without picking it up. I know myself. And it delivered! This was such a fantastical story, filled with Middle Eastern (and some northern African) magics: peri, marid, ifrit, enchantments, curses and all the types of djinn you could want. And beyond that, the entirety of the world-building was just dazzling. Honestly, I want to describe it as visually stunning, and I don’t even care if that’s not possible because this was a words-only/no illustrations type novel. The colors and smells just leapt off the page for me. I felt like this world of cultural and traditional detail reached out, grabbed me, and pulled me inescapably into its heart.
And all of it was wrapped up in some of the most complex political intrigue that I have ever read. The interpersonal and historical relationships among the djinn and their tribes were deep and powerful. There were even, a few times, some points where I got confused inside all the old grudges and power struggles. The “who started what, and when” had me taking a step back to try and figure out the timelines of the past more than once. And I’m not completely sure there was really an answer sometimes. Which is a fascinating and truthful parallel to the way things usually are. There is no clear-cut good side/bad side in reality. The lines are blurred irrevocably and each side does (in perpetuity) what they feel they must in support of their beliefs, in defense of their people, or simply in following orders. To that point, the role of rigid traditions and religion in the political landscape, the way those beliefs lead to some tribes/groups being marginalized and oppressed is quite reflective of reality. And the way that, for most, these allegiances supersede what would actually be best for the city, the people, is also frighteningly familiar. In any case, all that to say that I loved how intense and intricate the plotting was.
The characters themselves were wonderful as well. I loved that they were all individual in their interests, thoughts and, especially, their flaws. Nahri is coming from a background of survival as the only goal, and is realistically resistant to being a pawn and a symbol in a game of beliefs and loyalty that is completely foreign to her. Dara, her warrior djinn, is enchantingly (at least for me – I’m a sucker for the dark “hero”) conflicted about his feelings for her (ones he feels he shouldn’t have, but cannot ignore), as well as his personal struggle with the terrible things he’s done in the past, some of his own will and some that were out of his control. And Ali, a prince of Daevabad, is strictly religious, and struggles between what his beliefs dictate and the loyalty he has to his father and family, and the ways he has hurt people on both sides with his actions for the others. Honestly, his naivete and internal struggles are probably the most thorny in their conflict and (especially with where his story is left at this end of this book) I cannot wait to see how he develops from here. And those are just the three main characters – there are so many more semi-minor personalities that show great promise in the roles they’ll play in the future of this saga. If I haven’t said it enough times, let me say it one more – I cannot wait and super wish I didn’t have to (can this be my wish that gets granted – please?!).
Basically, this is a wonderfully lavish and gratifying introduction to an epic new fantasy saga. I was mesmerized from the very start and I’m just gonna be over here slowly dying until I can get more.
Well, I broke one of my cardinal rules for this book. And am I sorry? Not realllllly. But have I reinforced why I have that rule in the first place? YES. What’s the rule, you ask? Well, I learned this the hard way, but I do not read books in a series unless they whole series is published. I have to be honest with you, I break this rule so often. But really, every time I do it, I end up so annoyed at myself because I want more of the story IMMEDIATELY. I do not want to wait, sometimes years, for the next book to be published. And I hate myself, (serious, real, hate), if the book ends with a big cliffhanger. Seriously, cliffhangers are one of my LEAST FAVORITE literary devices. Like, if you write the story/characters well enough, I’ll want to read more about them even without you leaving me dangling over a fire pit or in the maws of some terrible beast for YEARS. Plus, I am not typically a rereader, and I hate that I forget details waiting for the next book to be published and then struggle between the choice to reread the first one(s) or just jump right in and hope enough details come back to me as I go. Anyways, sorry about that baby rant. Long story short, I read this first book in a trilogy, freaking LOVED it, and now I have to wait months for book two and years for book three. Woe. Is. Me.
Nahri has gotten by in the streets and markets of Cairo for years as a con woman. She’s always had a little talent for telling what ails a person, and uses that to her advantage (along with faked tea and palm readings) to swindle people out of their money. But when she accidently calls an ancient djinn warrior during one of her “healings,” things change…quickly. The djinn spirits her away, across the desert, to a legendary city of djinn, Daevabad, where centuries of old resentments and magics are brewing into the perfect storm. A storm that she finds herself right in the center of, as her unknown origins are suddenly too known. And all her wishing to study as a real healer and to know more about her past are making her very aware that one should be careful what they wish for.
I absolutely loved the Middle Eastern folklore in this novel. I have always been particularly interested in the mythologies of different cultures, but I have a particular affinity for Middle Eastern tales. Fun fact, I minored in Arabic language in undergrad. My husband is Lebanese and was studying the language and culture to learn more about his own family history, as well as to use in his career (he was in the Air Force, though that is, long story short, no longer what he does). Anyways, while I cannot speak or read much anymore (you lose what you don’t practice, sadly), I love that I can still write it. It is seriously the most gorgeous written language. Anyways, back to this review. We’ve established that I’m into all stories djinn-related. So I knew that I would love this novel. I waited awhile to read it (that pesky first novel in an unfinished series thing), but I knew I wouldn’t make it that long without picking it up. I know myself. And it delivered! This was such a fantastical story, filled with Middle Eastern (and some northern African) magics: peri, marid, ifrit, enchantments, curses and all the types of djinn you could want. And beyond that, the entirety of the world-building was just dazzling. Honestly, I want to describe it as visually stunning, and I don’t even care if that’s not possible because this was a words-only/no illustrations type novel. The colors and smells just leapt off the page for me. I felt like this world of cultural and traditional detail reached out, grabbed me, and pulled me inescapably into its heart.
And all of it was wrapped up in some of the most complex political intrigue that I have ever read. The interpersonal and historical relationships among the djinn and their tribes were deep and powerful. There were even, a few times, some points where I got confused inside all the old grudges and power struggles. The “who started what, and when” had me taking a step back to try and figure out the timelines of the past more than once. And I’m not completely sure there was really an answer sometimes. Which is a fascinating and truthful parallel to the way things usually are. There is no clear-cut good side/bad side in reality. The lines are blurred irrevocably and each side does (in perpetuity) what they feel they must in support of their beliefs, in defense of their people, or simply in following orders. To that point, the role of rigid traditions and religion in the political landscape, the way those beliefs lead to some tribes/groups being marginalized and oppressed is quite reflective of reality. And the way that, for most, these allegiances supersede what would actually be best for the city, the people, is also frighteningly familiar. In any case, all that to say that I loved how intense and intricate the plotting was.
The characters themselves were wonderful as well. I loved that they were all individual in their interests, thoughts and, especially, their flaws. Nahri is coming from a background of survival as the only goal, and is realistically resistant to being a pawn and a symbol in a game of beliefs and loyalty that is completely foreign to her. Dara, her warrior djinn, is enchantingly (at least for me – I’m a sucker for the dark “hero”) conflicted about his feelings for her (ones he feels he shouldn’t have, but cannot ignore), as well as his personal struggle with the terrible things he’s done in the past, some of his own will and some that were out of his control. And Ali, a prince of Daevabad, is strictly religious, and struggles between what his beliefs dictate and the loyalty he has to his father and family, and the ways he has hurt people on both sides with his actions for the others. Honestly, his naivete and internal struggles are probably the most thorny in their conflict and (especially with where his story is left at this end of this book) I cannot wait to see how he develops from here. And those are just the three main characters – there are so many more semi-minor personalities that show great promise in the roles they’ll play in the future of this saga. If I haven’t said it enough times, let me say it one more – I cannot wait and super wish I didn’t have to (can this be my wish that gets granted – please?!).
Basically, this is a wonderfully lavish and gratifying introduction to an epic new fantasy saga. I was mesmerized from the very start and I’m just gonna be over here slowly dying until I can get more.
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
Years ago, long before I started writing reviews and even longer before I started officially publishing them on my blog, I read The Thirteenth Tale. And I loved it. I actually don’t remember too many of the details, but the mystery and atmosphere have stuck with me to this day. So, as I was browsing NetGalley and saw Once Upon a River, with a description that focused again on Setterfield’s ability to write with mystery and atmosphere, I knew I wanted to read it. I was psyched when I got approved for a copy. And I almostttttttt finished it by the official pub date! Half points to me, haha.
This story takes place in a small town on the banks of the Thames. On the evening of the winter solstice, a man shows up in the door of a small pub – beaten up and holding a young girl who looks for all the world as if she has drowned. But, inexplicably, hours later, the girl takes a breath and comes back to life. No one knows what happened to her or how she and the man came to be at the door of the pub. But theories abound…and what follows is a gothic, atmospheric, slow-burn, strange and complex mystery involving kidnapping, mixed identities, photography and lots and lots of story-telling.
To start, I just have to say that I loved the gothic ambiance of this dark mystery. Set in an unnamed but Elizabethan-ish age in England, the cold, historical, riverside setting is perfect for this type of tale. The traditional fairy-tale like writing, and the various strains of folklore and legend woven in, fit the mood as well. In addition, I really enjoyed the way that Setterfield explores the way a story can grow and morph in the retelling, not only in a way that pushes it out of proportion with the original, but also in a way that makes space for discovery of details and explanations that were perhaps overlooked in the first retelling. It makes space for comforting repetition, sometimes necessary in a mystery story like this one, where new facts and minutiae are revealed consistently throughout, but in a way that doesn’t get tedious. To that point, the little clues that are dropped to the reader are done so with a slow-burn pacing regularity that is just right for this gothic-style mystery. Relatedly, the interweaving of the river and story-telling (even unique kinds, like with pictures, or purposefully wielded as a tool) as themes in every part of this tale is a nice aesthetic touch. There were, perhaps, times where it was too much, where these sections went too long and I just wanted to get back to the main story, but it’s a small criticism.
As for the story itself, it was the epitome of a cozy mystery novel. The drama is there from the start, with (at least) three different possibilities for who the young dead-come-back-to-life girl could be. And with so many different complicating viewpoints, personal investments and new discoveries that change your opinion on who the girl really is, it keeps you guessing all the way til the end. Plus, there are some really great side stories that develop as the pieces of the main one come together, all in fairy tale type form: with great evils and the great goods. The great evils make you upset on behalf of the innocent and the great goods make your heart smile in their sweetness, but all seem to fit just right, stylistically, into the overall story. And by the end, when we get our final reveals and learn the fates of all the little girls suspected of being the drowned one, it’s very satisfying. There are many interconnections that bring all our characters’ presences in the story into clarity and we are left with nicely tied up conclusions for everyone. Again, in typical fairy tale fashion.
Probably my favorite thing about the entire story is the simultaneous explanations from science and from folklore. By the end, each thing that seemed unbelievable and unexplainable earlier has been, at least mostly, explained away with logic that is truly sound and believable. You can leave this story with the comfort of knowing that it was in no way fantastical, that this is fiction, sure, but not magical realism. However, if you have magic in your heart, you can also choose to ignore some of that science and hold onto the mystical. This can absolutely become a story that has a tint of enchantment and that those scientific explanations are not quite enough on their own. It is this side that parallels the focus on “stories” that is present throughout – and how the version of this one will change as it spreads far and wide until it creates a great legendary tale out of these very real circumstances. As a reader, and a lover of mythology and lore, this concept speaks to my heart.
There is an air of expectation and anticipation that is built from the very start, and a sort of supernatural pall over the story, that are just wonderfully crafted. This book truly has that atmospheric quality that makes you feel as if you are completely enveloped in the story. I enjoyed this one and, if you are looking for a snug-in-the-blankets, light-ish winter read, this would be a great choice!
“When a story is yours to tell, you are allowed to take liberties with it…”
“A river is a river, whatever the season.”
“A body always tells a story – but this child’s corpse was a blank page.”
“…on a summer day winter always seems like something you have dreamt or hear spoken of and not a thing you have lived.”
“…just ‘cause a thing’s impossible don’t mean it can’t happen.”
“There must be more to stories than you think.”
“He simply exposed his retina and let love burn her flickering, shimmering, absorbed face onto his soul.”
Years ago, long before I started writing reviews and even longer before I started officially publishing them on my blog, I read The Thirteenth Tale. And I loved it. I actually don’t remember too many of the details, but the mystery and atmosphere have stuck with me to this day. So, as I was browsing NetGalley and saw Once Upon a River, with a description that focused again on Setterfield’s ability to write with mystery and atmosphere, I knew I wanted to read it. I was psyched when I got approved for a copy. And I almostttttttt finished it by the official pub date! Half points to me, haha.
This story takes place in a small town on the banks of the Thames. On the evening of the winter solstice, a man shows up in the door of a small pub – beaten up and holding a young girl who looks for all the world as if she has drowned. But, inexplicably, hours later, the girl takes a breath and comes back to life. No one knows what happened to her or how she and the man came to be at the door of the pub. But theories abound…and what follows is a gothic, atmospheric, slow-burn, strange and complex mystery involving kidnapping, mixed identities, photography and lots and lots of story-telling.
To start, I just have to say that I loved the gothic ambiance of this dark mystery. Set in an unnamed but Elizabethan-ish age in England, the cold, historical, riverside setting is perfect for this type of tale. The traditional fairy-tale like writing, and the various strains of folklore and legend woven in, fit the mood as well. In addition, I really enjoyed the way that Setterfield explores the way a story can grow and morph in the retelling, not only in a way that pushes it out of proportion with the original, but also in a way that makes space for discovery of details and explanations that were perhaps overlooked in the first retelling. It makes space for comforting repetition, sometimes necessary in a mystery story like this one, where new facts and minutiae are revealed consistently throughout, but in a way that doesn’t get tedious. To that point, the little clues that are dropped to the reader are done so with a slow-burn pacing regularity that is just right for this gothic-style mystery. Relatedly, the interweaving of the river and story-telling (even unique kinds, like with pictures, or purposefully wielded as a tool) as themes in every part of this tale is a nice aesthetic touch. There were, perhaps, times where it was too much, where these sections went too long and I just wanted to get back to the main story, but it’s a small criticism.
As for the story itself, it was the epitome of a cozy mystery novel. The drama is there from the start, with (at least) three different possibilities for who the young dead-come-back-to-life girl could be. And with so many different complicating viewpoints, personal investments and new discoveries that change your opinion on who the girl really is, it keeps you guessing all the way til the end. Plus, there are some really great side stories that develop as the pieces of the main one come together, all in fairy tale type form: with great evils and the great goods. The great evils make you upset on behalf of the innocent and the great goods make your heart smile in their sweetness, but all seem to fit just right, stylistically, into the overall story. And by the end, when we get our final reveals and learn the fates of all the little girls suspected of being the drowned one, it’s very satisfying. There are many interconnections that bring all our characters’ presences in the story into clarity and we are left with nicely tied up conclusions for everyone. Again, in typical fairy tale fashion.
Probably my favorite thing about the entire story is the simultaneous explanations from science and from folklore. By the end, each thing that seemed unbelievable and unexplainable earlier has been, at least mostly, explained away with logic that is truly sound and believable. You can leave this story with the comfort of knowing that it was in no way fantastical, that this is fiction, sure, but not magical realism. However, if you have magic in your heart, you can also choose to ignore some of that science and hold onto the mystical. This can absolutely become a story that has a tint of enchantment and that those scientific explanations are not quite enough on their own. It is this side that parallels the focus on “stories” that is present throughout – and how the version of this one will change as it spreads far and wide until it creates a great legendary tale out of these very real circumstances. As a reader, and a lover of mythology and lore, this concept speaks to my heart.
There is an air of expectation and anticipation that is built from the very start, and a sort of supernatural pall over the story, that are just wonderfully crafted. This book truly has that atmospheric quality that makes you feel as if you are completely enveloped in the story. I enjoyed this one and, if you are looking for a snug-in-the-blankets, light-ish winter read, this would be a great choice!
“When a story is yours to tell, you are allowed to take liberties with it…”
“A river is a river, whatever the season.”
“A body always tells a story – but this child’s corpse was a blank page.”
“…on a summer day winter always seems like something you have dreamt or hear spoken of and not a thing you have lived.”
“…just ‘cause a thing’s impossible don’t mean it can’t happen.”
“There must be more to stories than you think.”
“He simply exposed his retina and let love burn her flickering, shimmering, absorbed face onto his soul.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
I had really never heard of this book before seeing one of the main characters mentioned in a post on bookstagram. As always, I need to be better about writing these things down, because I totally don’t remember who made the original post, but the question was something about book boyfriends. And more than one person mentioned someone named Dalton. It wasn’t a name I recognized, so thankfully someone also listed the book it was from: Whiskey and Ribbons. Well, I’m nothing if not a sucker for a good book boyfriend, so the next time I was at the library I checked for this book and, since it was available, grabbed it!
I think perhaps the premise of this book doesn’t do its contents justice. I think, if I had just read the description, I would not have been as inclined to read it. Evangeline is nine months pregnant when her husband, Eamon, a police officer, is killed in the line of duty. Honestly, that’s such a heartbreaking start and I am not always in the mood for sobbing while reading (I’m ridiculously emotional). Told from three perspectives, we get the full story of a family through the unfolding of this book. Evangeline speaks to us from after Eamon’s death, primarily during a current day weekend snowed in with Eamon’s brother, Dalton. Eamon speaks to us from before his death, how it felt finding Evangeline, marrying her and towards the end, his internal struggle as he prepares to be a father while working in a dangerous profession. And then there’s Dalton, Eamon’s adopted brother. His story spans years, back to his childhood becoming part of Eamon’s family up through the present day as he finds out about his biological parents and deals with Eamon’s passing and his promises to take care of Evangeline and the baby is anything were ever to happen to Eamon.
I can’t say exactly what I was expecting from this book. Between the mentions of Dalton as a perfect book boyfriend and the tragic circumstances that create the basis of the novel, I didn’t real have a tangible feel for how I thought things would play out. And really, I hadn’t done too much research into it, other than seeing those few comments on bookstagram and seeing if the library had it. So, needless to say, what I got was unexpectedly amazing – much more than I had been planning or hoping for, that’s for sure. First of all, the writing was just brilliant. It’s vividly insightful and emotional without taking the language too far and obscuring the messages with words. Does that make sense? I am not into novels where the individual words/language is more important than the story they’re telling – a balance of the two elements is really important to me. It’s meditative and reflecting without getting lost in itself, or losing me as a reader. All in all, the narrative style is a perfect match for the story it’s telling. I wrote the following note as I was reading and it’s so accurate that I’m just going to quote myself here: “The feelings that come through on every page are so strong, so heavily rendered, the good and the bad, that you can feel them rising off the page and enveloping you.” Yup – I wrote the truth. Also, I just loved the artistic aspects woven all the way through. I’m not a dancer or a musician (so I had to look up some of the terms), but with Evangeline as a ballerina and Dalton as a pianist, the music and dance vocabulary sprinkled throughout and used as a framework for the story itself is a lovely device.
As for the characters themselves, it would be hard for them to not seem realistic, based on how well-written their emotions are. So yes, they were fully dimensional. I mean, this is a limited view of them, based on the circumstances they are in and this section of their lives we’re exploring, so (especially for Evangeline) they may not be as developed as a larger context could have made them. But at the same time, the was Cross-Smith represents them, you can tell that there is more there for each of them, it’s just pushed away for now. And I did like that. Also, and mainly, let’s talk about the men. I have never, not that I can remember, read a book with two such wonderful male protagonists. The healthy masculinity in the book is off the charts. Both Eamon and Dalton are emotional, sensitive, thoughtful and completely able to be “manly” without sacrificing these traits. I just…it was beautiful to read. And yes, everyone who said Dalton was the perfect book boyfriend was SO RIGHT. Oh man, he really is close to perfect. But I don’t want to forget about Eamon. I see why Dalton is the focal point, for sure (and I’m down with it), but Eamon displays all these characteristics and would be just as legit as far as book boyfriends go, if he were option. It’s impossible to say that Evangeline is lucky to have them both in her life under the circumstances,
but also, one cannot ignore that there is good fortune there somewhere.
This book was just so much more than I was expecting. The plot had more depth and twists than I was expecting, the relationships developed were exquisite in both joy and pain, and the emphasis on family, what makes a family, is everything. I loved this book and, even though I cried through the last 30-40 pages, it was totally worth it. I just feel so much after reading this and have so much belief in the power behind healing and hope and how worth it, how meaningful, it is to pour your heart into the people that you have chosen.
“Women, you are sleek and gorgeous. You hold us together, you’re the ribbons. We’re men. Dangerous only if you take us too seriously. We’re the whiskey. To whiskey and ribbons.”
“Family was a pact. Friendship was a pact. Love was a pact. Written in blood.”
“Grief is horrifyingly personal. Grief is horrifyingly generic.”
“I think of our breaking hearts sounding like the snow – so quiet we can barely hear them, but after the right amount of times we can look around and see how everything is changed. Covered.”
“…I look happy and hope it’s not an accident. Happiness, an elusive fish I cannot catch whole – only small darting flashes. Feels nasty to consider or wish for happiness. But I also know that without at least a little light, things die.”
“I can see it. Like how if you put your thumb over the end of a spraying garden hose it’ll make a rainbow. A surprise. It’s almost an accident. You have to look for it or you’ll miss it. You have to hold it perfectly still in the right light.”
I had really never heard of this book before seeing one of the main characters mentioned in a post on bookstagram. As always, I need to be better about writing these things down, because I totally don’t remember who made the original post, but the question was something about book boyfriends. And more than one person mentioned someone named Dalton. It wasn’t a name I recognized, so thankfully someone also listed the book it was from: Whiskey and Ribbons. Well, I’m nothing if not a sucker for a good book boyfriend, so the next time I was at the library I checked for this book and, since it was available, grabbed it!
I think perhaps the premise of this book doesn’t do its contents justice. I think, if I had just read the description, I would not have been as inclined to read it. Evangeline is nine months pregnant when her husband, Eamon, a police officer, is killed in the line of duty. Honestly, that’s such a heartbreaking start and I am not always in the mood for sobbing while reading (I’m ridiculously emotional). Told from three perspectives, we get the full story of a family through the unfolding of this book. Evangeline speaks to us from after Eamon’s death, primarily during a current day weekend snowed in with Eamon’s brother, Dalton. Eamon speaks to us from before his death, how it felt finding Evangeline, marrying her and towards the end, his internal struggle as he prepares to be a father while working in a dangerous profession. And then there’s Dalton, Eamon’s adopted brother. His story spans years, back to his childhood becoming part of Eamon’s family up through the present day as he finds out about his biological parents and deals with Eamon’s passing and his promises to take care of Evangeline and the baby is anything were ever to happen to Eamon.
I can’t say exactly what I was expecting from this book. Between the mentions of Dalton as a perfect book boyfriend and the tragic circumstances that create the basis of the novel, I didn’t real have a tangible feel for how I thought things would play out. And really, I hadn’t done too much research into it, other than seeing those few comments on bookstagram and seeing if the library had it. So, needless to say, what I got was unexpectedly amazing – much more than I had been planning or hoping for, that’s for sure. First of all, the writing was just brilliant. It’s vividly insightful and emotional without taking the language too far and obscuring the messages with words. Does that make sense? I am not into novels where the individual words/language is more important than the story they’re telling – a balance of the two elements is really important to me. It’s meditative and reflecting without getting lost in itself, or losing me as a reader. All in all, the narrative style is a perfect match for the story it’s telling. I wrote the following note as I was reading and it’s so accurate that I’m just going to quote myself here: “The feelings that come through on every page are so strong, so heavily rendered, the good and the bad, that you can feel them rising off the page and enveloping you.” Yup – I wrote the truth. Also, I just loved the artistic aspects woven all the way through. I’m not a dancer or a musician (so I had to look up some of the terms), but with Evangeline as a ballerina and Dalton as a pianist, the music and dance vocabulary sprinkled throughout and used as a framework for the story itself is a lovely device.
As for the characters themselves, it would be hard for them to not seem realistic, based on how well-written their emotions are. So yes, they were fully dimensional. I mean, this is a limited view of them, based on the circumstances they are in and this section of their lives we’re exploring, so (especially for Evangeline) they may not be as developed as a larger context could have made them. But at the same time, the was Cross-Smith represents them, you can tell that there is more there for each of them, it’s just pushed away for now. And I did like that. Also, and mainly, let’s talk about the men. I have never, not that I can remember, read a book with two such wonderful male protagonists. The healthy masculinity in the book is off the charts. Both Eamon and Dalton are emotional, sensitive, thoughtful and completely able to be “manly” without sacrificing these traits. I just…it was beautiful to read. And yes, everyone who said Dalton was the perfect book boyfriend was SO RIGHT. Oh man, he really is close to perfect. But I don’t want to forget about Eamon. I see why Dalton is the focal point, for sure (and I’m down with it), but Eamon displays all these characteristics and would be just as legit as far as book boyfriends go, if he were option. It’s impossible to say that Evangeline is lucky to have them both in her life under the circumstances,
but also, one cannot ignore that there is good fortune there somewhere.
This book was just so much more than I was expecting. The plot had more depth and twists than I was expecting, the relationships developed were exquisite in both joy and pain, and the emphasis on family, what makes a family, is everything. I loved this book and, even though I cried through the last 30-40 pages, it was totally worth it. I just feel so much after reading this and have so much belief in the power behind healing and hope and how worth it, how meaningful, it is to pour your heart into the people that you have chosen.
“Women, you are sleek and gorgeous. You hold us together, you’re the ribbons. We’re men. Dangerous only if you take us too seriously. We’re the whiskey. To whiskey and ribbons.”
“Family was a pact. Friendship was a pact. Love was a pact. Written in blood.”
“Grief is horrifyingly personal. Grief is horrifyingly generic.”
“I think of our breaking hearts sounding like the snow – so quiet we can barely hear them, but after the right amount of times we can look around and see how everything is changed. Covered.”
“…I look happy and hope it’s not an accident. Happiness, an elusive fish I cannot catch whole – only small darting flashes. Feels nasty to consider or wish for happiness. But I also know that without at least a little light, things die.”
“I can see it. Like how if you put your thumb over the end of a spraying garden hose it’ll make a rainbow. A surprise. It’s almost an accident. You have to look for it or you’ll miss it. You have to hold it perfectly still in the right light.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
I love reading because it opens up so much of the world that is unknown. Like, there is just so much out there to learn about. I am drawn to books that will give me insight into something I didn’t previously know about. And even if, like in this case, the story itself is told in a more fictional way, I am still introduced to something I had no/less knowledge of. And after reading books like one, I always spend time researching the “reality” of the events and history. Everyone always says that reading helps you gain perspective and empathy…and this, right here, is how it happens.
She Would Be King is a magical realism retelling of the story of the founding of Liberia. The books starts with us being introduced to our three protagonists. Gbessa, is exiled from her village, Lai, after being born cursed. June Dey flees his life as a slave on a plantation in Virginia after a violent confrontation. Norman Aragorn leaves his country of birth, Jamaica, to follow his mother’s dreams. When they all find themselves together in West African, they start to realize each has a special gift that puts them in position to be able to help the vulnerable of the ancestral lands. And Gbessa in particular, after being taken in by African-American settlers in Monrovia, finds that she may be the only one who can unite the newcomers and the indigenous tribes.
After reading this book, and hearing a few facts that sounded familiar, I can say that I was likely introduced to this story, in a nonfictional context, in a history class at some point. But even with those vaguely recognizable pieces of information, this book taught me so much more than I had ever previously learned, I am sure. Plus, it taught it to me from a perspective that I am positive is not included in history classes. What I’m sure I learned is that American Colonization Society “helped” create a space in Africa where “free” African-Americans could create their own society. What I’m sure was left out is how this was motivated not by altruism, but by the US’s interest in getting rid of the people that they felt were competing with whites to the economic and societal detriment of the country. Also, I’m sure it wasn’t mentioned that the fatality rate for these A-A “settlers” was so high or that they continued to be ruled by white “governors,” among other things. I also was fascinated by the exploration of the societal structure in Monrovia and how it so closely imitated the culture of the US, because that is all the settlers knew. This, of course, led to complicated relations with the local tribes whose land was being “settled” and who ended up working as servants and in other menial jobs. Plus, with the language and tradition barriers between all the indigenous tribes and the new settlers, and the ever-present threat of white invasions, there were so many layers of complicated interactions. Needless to say, in a purely educational way, this was an incredibly illuminating read for me.
As for the story itself, I have to be honest, it was a slow start for me. It took me almost two weeks to read the first half to two thirds of the book. I struggled to get into the swing of the story. The first three or four sections, the ones that introduce us to the protagonists, are almost like completely different stories. There are no overlapping characters, locations, etc. and it seemed like a very fragmented start, especially because I thought I was reading about the founding of Liberia and none of the settings for this first hundred or so pages was even remotely Liberian. I just couldn’t figure out the connections between anything that was happening and couldn’t imagine how they’d all end up together and where they needed to be. However, once their stories did finally come together, and Gbessa made it to Monrovia, things started moving much faster. I was able to find the flow and the pages started turning faster. After taking weeks to get to that point, I finished the last third in about two days. And the time spent setting everything up started to make more sense. In fact, knowing the origins of each character, and from where their individual powers were born, really helped me understand how they reacted to the situations they found themselves in. It also clarified the different decisions they made, and the way they made them, in regards to who to protect and when to do so. In most cases, but particularly Gbessa’s this was really quite devastating to read. But the exploration of the effects of their individually tragic and oppressed backgrounds was important and thoroughly represented. Many times the tragedies in this book were overwhelming, but in a balanced and authentic way that, again, for me, was enlightening and educational. I do wish that the last third, the part that directly addressed Liberia and its origins, included more detail and elaboration, on par with the backgrounds of Gbessa, Norman and June Dey that we were given in the beginning. It seemed just a little rushed in comparison. However, that likely would have made this more of a plot-based historical fiction piece than a character-based magical realism piece. And I did enjoy the folklore-like style that she used – it was the perfect matched for that stylistic decision – so I respect her creative decision with that.
I have some other random thoughts that don’t really go anywhere, so I’ll pop them all in here. First, I just loved the way that Moore shows the fate and circumstances of Africans and African descendants (African-Americans) from such a variety of backgrounds, locations, traditions, experiences, ideals, etc. From the US to Jamaica to West Africa, from escaped slaves to “freeborn,” from indigenous to settler, from local tradition to Christianity, it was wonderfully encompassing. Also, the way that Moore takes the oft-used “magical negro” trope and completely rewrites it as the central story, as real power, as the hero(ine) is something really special. Last, the overall nuance in Gbessa, Norman and June Dey’s characters was spectacular. I already mentioned this a little, but just the way that their experiences dictated the way they all handled their curses/gifts, how they walked the line of being simultaneously free and not free, was one of the nightlights of this novel.
I loved the magical realism aspects mixed into the real history of the country. Moore’s pride in Liberia is clear on every page and her goal in sharing its unique story with the world is accomplished with aplomb. Although I had some issues with the pacing and a bit of a slow start, I loved what I learned while reading this. Overall, this was a largely compelling retelling.
“And without a spirit, you cannot feel. You react, but the longer you exist in a world without your spirit, the less you feel. And feeling, no matter how low the emotion, is a gift. But in that place we stopped feeling when our spirits were killed. Laughter was a reaction. Tears were a reaction. Those screams were a reaction. But the source of them – the mother of joy, of sadness, or terror – was a ghost like me.”
“Seem everybody I ever know ain’t got time to do nothing. Someday you want time to do some things you never had time to do.”
“The girl with the biggest gift of us all. Life. If she was not a girl or if she was not a woman; if she was not a woman or if she was not a witch, she would be king.”
I love reading because it opens up so much of the world that is unknown. Like, there is just so much out there to learn about. I am drawn to books that will give me insight into something I didn’t previously know about. And even if, like in this case, the story itself is told in a more fictional way, I am still introduced to something I had no/less knowledge of. And after reading books like one, I always spend time researching the “reality” of the events and history. Everyone always says that reading helps you gain perspective and empathy…and this, right here, is how it happens.
She Would Be King is a magical realism retelling of the story of the founding of Liberia. The books starts with us being introduced to our three protagonists. Gbessa, is exiled from her village, Lai, after being born cursed. June Dey flees his life as a slave on a plantation in Virginia after a violent confrontation. Norman Aragorn leaves his country of birth, Jamaica, to follow his mother’s dreams. When they all find themselves together in West African, they start to realize each has a special gift that puts them in position to be able to help the vulnerable of the ancestral lands. And Gbessa in particular, after being taken in by African-American settlers in Monrovia, finds that she may be the only one who can unite the newcomers and the indigenous tribes.
After reading this book, and hearing a few facts that sounded familiar, I can say that I was likely introduced to this story, in a nonfictional context, in a history class at some point. But even with those vaguely recognizable pieces of information, this book taught me so much more than I had ever previously learned, I am sure. Plus, it taught it to me from a perspective that I am positive is not included in history classes. What I’m sure I learned is that American Colonization Society “helped” create a space in Africa where “free” African-Americans could create their own society. What I’m sure was left out is how this was motivated not by altruism, but by the US’s interest in getting rid of the people that they felt were competing with whites to the economic and societal detriment of the country. Also, I’m sure it wasn’t mentioned that the fatality rate for these A-A “settlers” was so high or that they continued to be ruled by white “governors,” among other things. I also was fascinated by the exploration of the societal structure in Monrovia and how it so closely imitated the culture of the US, because that is all the settlers knew. This, of course, led to complicated relations with the local tribes whose land was being “settled” and who ended up working as servants and in other menial jobs. Plus, with the language and tradition barriers between all the indigenous tribes and the new settlers, and the ever-present threat of white invasions, there were so many layers of complicated interactions. Needless to say, in a purely educational way, this was an incredibly illuminating read for me.
As for the story itself, I have to be honest, it was a slow start for me. It took me almost two weeks to read the first half to two thirds of the book. I struggled to get into the swing of the story. The first three or four sections, the ones that introduce us to the protagonists, are almost like completely different stories. There are no overlapping characters, locations, etc. and it seemed like a very fragmented start, especially because I thought I was reading about the founding of Liberia and none of the settings for this first hundred or so pages was even remotely Liberian. I just couldn’t figure out the connections between anything that was happening and couldn’t imagine how they’d all end up together and where they needed to be. However, once their stories did finally come together, and Gbessa made it to Monrovia, things started moving much faster. I was able to find the flow and the pages started turning faster. After taking weeks to get to that point, I finished the last third in about two days. And the time spent setting everything up started to make more sense. In fact, knowing the origins of each character, and from where their individual powers were born, really helped me understand how they reacted to the situations they found themselves in. It also clarified the different decisions they made, and the way they made them, in regards to who to protect and when to do so. In most cases, but particularly Gbessa’s this was really quite devastating to read. But the exploration of the effects of their individually tragic and oppressed backgrounds was important and thoroughly represented. Many times the tragedies in this book were overwhelming, but in a balanced and authentic way that, again, for me, was enlightening and educational. I do wish that the last third, the part that directly addressed Liberia and its origins, included more detail and elaboration, on par with the backgrounds of Gbessa, Norman and June Dey that we were given in the beginning. It seemed just a little rushed in comparison. However, that likely would have made this more of a plot-based historical fiction piece than a character-based magical realism piece. And I did enjoy the folklore-like style that she used – it was the perfect matched for that stylistic decision – so I respect her creative decision with that.
I have some other random thoughts that don’t really go anywhere, so I’ll pop them all in here. First, I just loved the way that Moore shows the fate and circumstances of Africans and African descendants (African-Americans) from such a variety of backgrounds, locations, traditions, experiences, ideals, etc. From the US to Jamaica to West Africa, from escaped slaves to “freeborn,” from indigenous to settler, from local tradition to Christianity, it was wonderfully encompassing. Also, the way that Moore takes the oft-used “magical negro” trope and completely rewrites it as the central story, as real power, as the hero(ine) is something really special. Last, the overall nuance in Gbessa, Norman and June Dey’s characters was spectacular. I already mentioned this a little, but just the way that their experiences dictated the way they all handled their curses/gifts, how they walked the line of being simultaneously free and not free, was one of the nightlights of this novel.
I loved the magical realism aspects mixed into the real history of the country. Moore’s pride in Liberia is clear on every page and her goal in sharing its unique story with the world is accomplished with aplomb. Although I had some issues with the pacing and a bit of a slow start, I loved what I learned while reading this. Overall, this was a largely compelling retelling.
“And without a spirit, you cannot feel. You react, but the longer you exist in a world without your spirit, the less you feel. And feeling, no matter how low the emotion, is a gift. But in that place we stopped feeling when our spirits were killed. Laughter was a reaction. Tears were a reaction. Those screams were a reaction. But the source of them – the mother of joy, of sadness, or terror – was a ghost like me.”
“Seem everybody I ever know ain’t got time to do nothing. Someday you want time to do some things you never had time to do.”
“The girl with the biggest gift of us all. Life. If she was not a girl or if she was not a woman; if she was not a woman or if she was not a witch, she would be king.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
Joining in for my third @words.between.worlds monthly book (this being their December choice). After three amazing reads (Speak No Evil and Fruit of the Drunken Tree being the last two), it’s pretty safe for me to say that, even if I can’t join on the correct month, I’ll be adding all their choices to my TBR. Each has been intense and profound and gorgeously written and this one is no different.
Born in NYC, Nour moves back “home” to Syria with her mother and two older sisters after her father’s death. Still reeling from and trying to deal with the grief from that loss, the family is thrown into even further trauma after their home is completely destroyed by a stray shell. The family decides to leave in search of safety and stability, traveling through seven countries in the Middle East and North Africa along the way, and facing untold numbers of hardships and further suffering. Woven into this modern-day tale illuminating the Syrian refugee crisis is another tale. Nour’s favorite story that her father used to tell, of Rawiya, the 12th century girl who disguised herself as a boy in order to apprentice with a famous mapmaker. Nour and Rwiya’s travels parallel each other, both in terms of location and in loss/growth, as they search for their better futures, their happy endings.
This is such a heart-wrenchingly beautiful story. I want to say that I loved it. I want to tell you that it was gorgeous and inspiring and tangible in the best way. But at the same time, I feel like I cannot truly say all that because looking at the subject matter…it’s too real for that. It’s impossible to say that I was entertained and impressed by this book when, at the same time, I know that it’s telling a story that is not at all a story, but rather day-to-day life, for so many. The combination is emotionally crushing. As it needs to be, as it is. There is not a single bit of restraint shown by Joukhadar. She holds nothing back, she doesn’t coddle the reader. She hits us with all the loss, all the suffering, all the hopes. And it’s perfection.
Let me list out a few other things that I particularly liked.
- The way Nour and Rawiya’s stories mirror each other’s creates a wonderful structure for the overall story. They are similar enough to be clear counterparts across time, yet at the same time are not so identical that knowing one necessarily gives away what will happen in the other. Also, the fantastical elements of Rawiya’s story are a nice lighter touch sprinkled throughout the more difficult sections that make up Nour’s story. And the connection and insight that Nour’s knowledge of this story gives her to her father’s memory and her mother’s plans is also a brighter spot in the overall novel.
- I loved the use of synesthesia as a stylistic device and, as we find out towards the end, a plot device as well. I have always been fascinated by color and its connection to other senses and I love reading about it in books. (The Astonishing Color of After does this super well too.) Plus, it was super cool to learn that the author actually has synesthesia herself!
- Nour’s voice is really pretty well done for her age. Sometimes things go over her head that you think she should understand, while other times she seems overly intuitive for a child. But I think, under the trying circumstances, that’s a very realistic bounce back and forth, as she tries to comes to terms with what she has seen and what she is experiencing. The way children cope with trauma is incredibly different than adults. So I respect the way the author portrayed that here.
- Overall the writing is just breathtaking. I haven’t highlighted this many passages from a book in a while. And I sighed out loud so many times at a perfect turn of phrase or a stunning description.
- The sub-context of this novel, the love letter to the maps of our lives, to celebrating who you are and where you’ve been, even when it’s painful to remember, is stirring. These histories shape and make you – you cannot (and should not) forget them – but at the same time you do not have to let them win. You can simultaneously embrace them and become more than them. Each of our hearts and persons are a map of what we have lived. And despite sharing many circumstances with others, we still process everything in our own ways, so that for each of us, our maps can parallel but still look very different from, anyone else’s. That person to person unique-ness is so special.
- I loved that each new section started with a poem in the shape of the country Nour and Rawiya visit in that part of the book. It’s both literarily (the poems are just as emotionally affecting as the rest of the book, if not more so) and visually impactful. So creative.
Just like Nour collects stones, so this story slowly adds weight to your heart. Each new tragedy, whether big or small, like a weight on your heart. It’s incredibly heavy, both literally and figuratively. A metaphor at its finest and subtlest. The loss in this book, of people, home, self, identity, dignity, precious memories and possessions – it’s almost too much. And, again, to know that it’s not just a story for many people is unimaginable. The focus Joukhadar brings to this current-day crisis is important and sharp. Yet, with her ending, she still manages to show that there are ways out, that lives can be saved, that hearts still hold onto hope for a better future and that there’s no reason why it cannot be out there. The significance of that message cannot be ignored. This books is stunning. You should read it.
As I mentioned, the writing was simply gorgeous, and I found myself stopping SO often to mark favorite quotes and passages. Enjoy a few here (and then go read the book for yourself):
“How many Polaroids are there of places that no longer exist?” (this was just a really striking image/question)
“People always think dying is going to hurt. But it does not. It’s living that hurts us.”
“It was a noble thing, she thought, to seek beauty in a calloused world.”
“‘If you don’t know the tale of where you come from,’ he said, ‘the words of others can overwhelm and drown out your own. So, you see, you must keep careful track of the borders of your stories, where your voice ends and another’s begins.’ […] ‘Then stories map the soul,’ Rawiya said, ‘in the guise of words.’”
“Does it make it easier to live with loss if you don’t name it? Or is that something you do as a mercy for other people?”
“I wonder if almost can cost you as much as did, if the real wound is the moment you understand that you can do nothing.”
“…in my head I am counting up the broken families I have seen. I am counting the missing fathers and the buried mothers, giving form and breath to those who were left behind, asking myself how many times you can lose everything before you open yourself to nothing.”
“‘We always go back,’ I say. ‘We go back to death-places. It’s like somebody dying opens a door, and we have to look in.’”
“We aren’t on any map.”
“…and I am starving for my name, starving to feed my children the things they’ve forgotten, starving to find the words to say that home was a green place once and will be again.”
“‘I am a woman and a warrior. […] If you think I can’t be both, you’ve been lied to.”
“No one can take our land or our names from our hearts.”
“‘But what is the lesson?’ Rawiya asked. ‘What is there to learn from all this – this brokenness, this chaos? We saw the wounded, magnificent world, its mountains, its rivers, its deserts. Is there any making sense of it?’ […] ‘Must there be a lesson?’ al-Idrisi said. ‘Perhaps the story simply goes on and on. Time rises and falls like an ever-breathing lung. The road comes and goes and suffering with it. But the generations of men, some kind and some cruel, go on and on beneath the stars.’”
“‘I wonder if all maps are stories. […] Or all stories are maps.”
Joining in for my third @words.between.worlds monthly book (this being their December choice). After three amazing reads (Speak No Evil and Fruit of the Drunken Tree being the last two), it’s pretty safe for me to say that, even if I can’t join on the correct month, I’ll be adding all their choices to my TBR. Each has been intense and profound and gorgeously written and this one is no different.
Born in NYC, Nour moves back “home” to Syria with her mother and two older sisters after her father’s death. Still reeling from and trying to deal with the grief from that loss, the family is thrown into even further trauma after their home is completely destroyed by a stray shell. The family decides to leave in search of safety and stability, traveling through seven countries in the Middle East and North Africa along the way, and facing untold numbers of hardships and further suffering. Woven into this modern-day tale illuminating the Syrian refugee crisis is another tale. Nour’s favorite story that her father used to tell, of Rawiya, the 12th century girl who disguised herself as a boy in order to apprentice with a famous mapmaker. Nour and Rwiya’s travels parallel each other, both in terms of location and in loss/growth, as they search for their better futures, their happy endings.
This is such a heart-wrenchingly beautiful story. I want to say that I loved it. I want to tell you that it was gorgeous and inspiring and tangible in the best way. But at the same time, I feel like I cannot truly say all that because looking at the subject matter…it’s too real for that. It’s impossible to say that I was entertained and impressed by this book when, at the same time, I know that it’s telling a story that is not at all a story, but rather day-to-day life, for so many. The combination is emotionally crushing. As it needs to be, as it is. There is not a single bit of restraint shown by Joukhadar. She holds nothing back, she doesn’t coddle the reader. She hits us with all the loss, all the suffering, all the hopes. And it’s perfection.
Let me list out a few other things that I particularly liked.
- The way Nour and Rawiya’s stories mirror each other’s creates a wonderful structure for the overall story. They are similar enough to be clear counterparts across time, yet at the same time are not so identical that knowing one necessarily gives away what will happen in the other. Also, the fantastical elements of Rawiya’s story are a nice lighter touch sprinkled throughout the more difficult sections that make up Nour’s story. And the connection and insight that Nour’s knowledge of this story gives her to her father’s memory and her mother’s plans is also a brighter spot in the overall novel.
- I loved the use of synesthesia as a stylistic device and, as we find out towards the end, a plot device as well. I have always been fascinated by color and its connection to other senses and I love reading about it in books. (The Astonishing Color of After does this super well too.) Plus, it was super cool to learn that the author actually has synesthesia herself!
- Nour’s voice is really pretty well done for her age. Sometimes things go over her head that you think she should understand, while other times she seems overly intuitive for a child. But I think, under the trying circumstances, that’s a very realistic bounce back and forth, as she tries to comes to terms with what she has seen and what she is experiencing. The way children cope with trauma is incredibly different than adults. So I respect the way the author portrayed that here.
- Overall the writing is just breathtaking. I haven’t highlighted this many passages from a book in a while. And I sighed out loud so many times at a perfect turn of phrase or a stunning description.
- The sub-context of this novel, the love letter to the maps of our lives, to celebrating who you are and where you’ve been, even when it’s painful to remember, is stirring. These histories shape and make you – you cannot (and should not) forget them – but at the same time you do not have to let them win. You can simultaneously embrace them and become more than them. Each of our hearts and persons are a map of what we have lived. And despite sharing many circumstances with others, we still process everything in our own ways, so that for each of us, our maps can parallel but still look very different from, anyone else’s. That person to person unique-ness is so special.
- I loved that each new section started with a poem in the shape of the country Nour and Rawiya visit in that part of the book. It’s both literarily (the poems are just as emotionally affecting as the rest of the book, if not more so) and visually impactful. So creative.
Just like Nour collects stones, so this story slowly adds weight to your heart. Each new tragedy, whether big or small, like a weight on your heart. It’s incredibly heavy, both literally and figuratively. A metaphor at its finest and subtlest. The loss in this book, of people, home, self, identity, dignity, precious memories and possessions – it’s almost too much. And, again, to know that it’s not just a story for many people is unimaginable. The focus Joukhadar brings to this current-day crisis is important and sharp. Yet, with her ending, she still manages to show that there are ways out, that lives can be saved, that hearts still hold onto hope for a better future and that there’s no reason why it cannot be out there. The significance of that message cannot be ignored. This books is stunning. You should read it.
As I mentioned, the writing was simply gorgeous, and I found myself stopping SO often to mark favorite quotes and passages. Enjoy a few here (and then go read the book for yourself):
“How many Polaroids are there of places that no longer exist?” (this was just a really striking image/question)
“People always think dying is going to hurt. But it does not. It’s living that hurts us.”
“It was a noble thing, she thought, to seek beauty in a calloused world.”
“‘If you don’t know the tale of where you come from,’ he said, ‘the words of others can overwhelm and drown out your own. So, you see, you must keep careful track of the borders of your stories, where your voice ends and another’s begins.’ […] ‘Then stories map the soul,’ Rawiya said, ‘in the guise of words.’”
“Does it make it easier to live with loss if you don’t name it? Or is that something you do as a mercy for other people?”
“I wonder if almost can cost you as much as did, if the real wound is the moment you understand that you can do nothing.”
“…in my head I am counting up the broken families I have seen. I am counting the missing fathers and the buried mothers, giving form and breath to those who were left behind, asking myself how many times you can lose everything before you open yourself to nothing.”
“‘We always go back,’ I say. ‘We go back to death-places. It’s like somebody dying opens a door, and we have to look in.’”
“We aren’t on any map.”
“…and I am starving for my name, starving to feed my children the things they’ve forgotten, starving to find the words to say that home was a green place once and will be again.”
“‘I am a woman and a warrior. […] If you think I can’t be both, you’ve been lied to.”
“No one can take our land or our names from our hearts.”
“‘But what is the lesson?’ Rawiya asked. ‘What is there to learn from all this – this brokenness, this chaos? We saw the wounded, magnificent world, its mountains, its rivers, its deserts. Is there any making sense of it?’ […] ‘Must there be a lesson?’ al-Idrisi said. ‘Perhaps the story simply goes on and on. Time rises and falls like an ever-breathing lung. The road comes and goes and suffering with it. But the generations of men, some kind and some cruel, go on and on beneath the stars.’”
“‘I wonder if all maps are stories. […] Or all stories are maps.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
This book is one of the three I let myself buy when I was at Powell’s (out west for vacation means of course I was going to visit famous bookstores) a few months ago. This is one of those books that has the perfect mix of a gorgeous and artistic cover, an important contemporary and diverse premise, and an original twist…in this case it’s written in verse by an award-winning slam poet. It has, unfortunately, taken me months to get to it. But it was worth the wait.
Xiomara is in high school, the daughter of Dominican immigrants, a twin, and lives in Harlem. She cannot help the attention that her curvy body brings her or the fact that she’s starting to be interested in boys. Both are out of her control, but her traditionally religious mother doesn’t seem to understand that. With no one to talk to about her struggles as a young woman, she turns to writing poetry. And when a teacher at school suggests that she join the new slam poetry club, Xiomara finds the courage to follow some of her own dreams and desires. However, that’s still not enough to overcome years of conditioning towards guilt and concealment. Nor will it be quite that easy to be open about it all with her mother.
The is the second book written in verse that I’ve read this year…and really ever. The first, Long Way Down, was impressive to me for its depth of message with such brevity of words. This was a little different. Though still less words than a traditional novel, this novel tended towards longer verse. Which, I think, makes sense, since in my experience with spoken word (that being the author’s background), it’s essentially full-on story-telling, just with more flow and rhythm. I loved both for different reasons. And as someone who does not read that much poetry, it’s amazing how just saying “it was written in verse” does nothing to actually describe the style or really give you any hint of what to expect. There are so many different ways to be a poet! That may sound silly, but it’s a new arena for me, so I’m learning. In any case, this book read a little more traditionally, in my opinion. But it was still such a fun, interactive, reading experience, to try and get into the movement of the words. I do a little bit wish I had listened to this one, instead of reading it, since performance is part of slam poetry. I bet that would have been amazing and immersive. Regardless, I still loved the reading experience. I felt Xiomara’s emotions strongly and clearly, and I felt like, despite there being less space for exposition, I truly got to know her, and watch her transform, throughout the book.
As far as themes go, the main exploration was of the age old (but no less traumatic for that) internal fight of adolescence between “letting down” parental expectations and trying to grow into/become one’s own person. Xiomara so obviously loves and respects her parents, but struggles so hard with what she sees as her inability to be what they want. She is constantly shrinking herself down, fighting off her urges, and feeling guilty as hell. That kind of mental stress is no good for anyone, in any situation, but it is even sadder to see here, where the “rebellions” she does have, the ones that are truly causing her all this pain, are fairly mild. It was hard to read, as an outsider, because I just wanted to hug her and say that she’s fine, she’s normal, she’s a great kid, and she isn’t doing anything wrong. The added pressure of religious expectation in this mix, and the guilt it causes her when she is unable to believe without question or be the “perfect” young lady (pitting her body type and natural desires vs the accusation of being slutty/dirty) gets pretty personal for me. I was raised in a religious home and, though it was nowhere near the situation Xiomara was in (my mother and I are on great terms, and I, naturally, do not have the “inviting” curves that she has), there is still so much internalization of negativity about sexuality and desire that I still struggle with today, as an almost 30-year-old adult. Honestly, just the fact that she felt the need to hide so much of herself, physically and emotionally, hurt my heart. The bottom line is, these topics were explored so thoroughly and movingly here – and full credit to the author for being able to do that.
Final thoughts: this book deeply affected me. I loved the big things, as described above. But I love the little ones too, like Xiomara’s stage name (and the title of the book), her relationship with her twin brother (and how they handle his secrets and struggles as well), and her strength of character (for standing up for what she feels is right for herself in more than one situation with her “boyfriend”). This story is raw and genuine and incredibly important. There is a deep feeling in the telling of it and that comes through on every page.
Two full poems (chapters?) in particular really struck me. I don’t want to recreate them in whole here, because I want you to go read the whole book and get them in context, but I do want to point out which ones and why. After – which speaks to all the places and times and situations (so, the universality) of getting uncomfortably “admired” by men. It just does an amazing job representing the ubiquitous-ness of it. The other is Things You Think About in the Split Second Your Notebook is Burning – it’s just particularly poignant in the way it addresses feeling alone in the world, wondering who is there for you to confide in and who would be there for you at the very end and the feeling of being totally lost/adrift in the world.
And now, an insanely long collection of snippets that spoke to me throughout this novel:
“When your body take up more room than your voice / you are always the target of well-aimed rumors, / which is why I let my knuckles talk for me.”
“Sometimes it feels / all I’m worth is under my skirt / and not between my ears.”
“…but one thing I know for sure / is that reputations last longer than the time it takes to make them.”
“Something in my chest flutters like a bird / whose wings are being gripped still / by the firmest fingers.”
“This world’s been waiting / for your genius a long time.”
“I let the words shape themselves hard on my tongue. / I let me hands pretend to be punctuation marks / that slash, and point, and press in on each other. / I let my body finally take up all the space it wants.”
“Tells me / a lot of things but none of them an answer to anything I asked.”
“She knew since she was little, / the world would not sing her triumphs, / but she took all of the stereotypes / and put them in a chokehold / until they breathed out the truth.”
“It’s confusing to know / you shouldn’t be doing something, / that it might go too far, / but still wanting to do it anyway.”
“And I think about all the things we could be / if we were never told our bodies were not built for them.”
“The world is almost peaceful / when you stop trying / to understand it.”
“There is freedom in choosing to sit and be still / when everything is always telling you to move, move fast.”
“Because so many of the poems tonight / felt a little like our own stories. / Like we saw and were seen. / And how crazy would it be / if I did that for someone else?”
“…words give people permission / to be their fullest self.”
This book is one of the three I let myself buy when I was at Powell’s (out west for vacation means of course I was going to visit famous bookstores) a few months ago. This is one of those books that has the perfect mix of a gorgeous and artistic cover, an important contemporary and diverse premise, and an original twist…in this case it’s written in verse by an award-winning slam poet. It has, unfortunately, taken me months to get to it. But it was worth the wait.
Xiomara is in high school, the daughter of Dominican immigrants, a twin, and lives in Harlem. She cannot help the attention that her curvy body brings her or the fact that she’s starting to be interested in boys. Both are out of her control, but her traditionally religious mother doesn’t seem to understand that. With no one to talk to about her struggles as a young woman, she turns to writing poetry. And when a teacher at school suggests that she join the new slam poetry club, Xiomara finds the courage to follow some of her own dreams and desires. However, that’s still not enough to overcome years of conditioning towards guilt and concealment. Nor will it be quite that easy to be open about it all with her mother.
The is the second book written in verse that I’ve read this year…and really ever. The first, Long Way Down, was impressive to me for its depth of message with such brevity of words. This was a little different. Though still less words than a traditional novel, this novel tended towards longer verse. Which, I think, makes sense, since in my experience with spoken word (that being the author’s background), it’s essentially full-on story-telling, just with more flow and rhythm. I loved both for different reasons. And as someone who does not read that much poetry, it’s amazing how just saying “it was written in verse” does nothing to actually describe the style or really give you any hint of what to expect. There are so many different ways to be a poet! That may sound silly, but it’s a new arena for me, so I’m learning. In any case, this book read a little more traditionally, in my opinion. But it was still such a fun, interactive, reading experience, to try and get into the movement of the words. I do a little bit wish I had listened to this one, instead of reading it, since performance is part of slam poetry. I bet that would have been amazing and immersive. Regardless, I still loved the reading experience. I felt Xiomara’s emotions strongly and clearly, and I felt like, despite there being less space for exposition, I truly got to know her, and watch her transform, throughout the book.
As far as themes go, the main exploration was of the age old (but no less traumatic for that) internal fight of adolescence between “letting down” parental expectations and trying to grow into/become one’s own person. Xiomara so obviously loves and respects her parents, but struggles so hard with what she sees as her inability to be what they want. She is constantly shrinking herself down, fighting off her urges, and feeling guilty as hell. That kind of mental stress is no good for anyone, in any situation, but it is even sadder to see here, where the “rebellions” she does have, the ones that are truly causing her all this pain, are fairly mild. It was hard to read, as an outsider, because I just wanted to hug her and say that she’s fine, she’s normal, she’s a great kid, and she isn’t doing anything wrong. The added pressure of religious expectation in this mix, and the guilt it causes her when she is unable to believe without question or be the “perfect” young lady (pitting her body type and natural desires vs the accusation of being slutty/dirty) gets pretty personal for me. I was raised in a religious home and, though it was nowhere near the situation Xiomara was in (my mother and I are on great terms, and I, naturally, do not have the “inviting” curves that she has), there is still so much internalization of negativity about sexuality and desire that I still struggle with today, as an almost 30-year-old adult. Honestly, just the fact that she felt the need to hide so much of herself, physically and emotionally, hurt my heart. The bottom line is, these topics were explored so thoroughly and movingly here – and full credit to the author for being able to do that.
Final thoughts: this book deeply affected me. I loved the big things, as described above. But I love the little ones too, like Xiomara’s stage name (and the title of the book), her relationship with her twin brother (and how they handle his secrets and struggles as well), and her strength of character (for standing up for what she feels is right for herself in more than one situation with her “boyfriend”). This story is raw and genuine and incredibly important. There is a deep feeling in the telling of it and that comes through on every page.
Two full poems (chapters?) in particular really struck me. I don’t want to recreate them in whole here, because I want you to go read the whole book and get them in context, but I do want to point out which ones and why. After – which speaks to all the places and times and situations (so, the universality) of getting uncomfortably “admired” by men. It just does an amazing job representing the ubiquitous-ness of it. The other is Things You Think About in the Split Second Your Notebook is Burning – it’s just particularly poignant in the way it addresses feeling alone in the world, wondering who is there for you to confide in and who would be there for you at the very end and the feeling of being totally lost/adrift in the world.
And now, an insanely long collection of snippets that spoke to me throughout this novel:
“When your body take up more room than your voice / you are always the target of well-aimed rumors, / which is why I let my knuckles talk for me.”
“Sometimes it feels / all I’m worth is under my skirt / and not between my ears.”
“…but one thing I know for sure / is that reputations last longer than the time it takes to make them.”
“Something in my chest flutters like a bird / whose wings are being gripped still / by the firmest fingers.”
“This world’s been waiting / for your genius a long time.”
“I let the words shape themselves hard on my tongue. / I let me hands pretend to be punctuation marks / that slash, and point, and press in on each other. / I let my body finally take up all the space it wants.”
“Tells me / a lot of things but none of them an answer to anything I asked.”
“She knew since she was little, / the world would not sing her triumphs, / but she took all of the stereotypes / and put them in a chokehold / until they breathed out the truth.”
“It’s confusing to know / you shouldn’t be doing something, / that it might go too far, / but still wanting to do it anyway.”
“And I think about all the things we could be / if we were never told our bodies were not built for them.”
“The world is almost peaceful / when you stop trying / to understand it.”
“There is freedom in choosing to sit and be still / when everything is always telling you to move, move fast.”
“Because so many of the poems tonight / felt a little like our own stories. / Like we saw and were seen. / And how crazy would it be / if I did that for someone else?”
“…words give people permission / to be their fullest self.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
This book was not super high on my TBR (though it was on it – because the cover is incredibly eye-catching and got me to read the synopsis) until I read about how legit Wilde is with writing representative characters. I mean, I am also a giant nerd and I love the focus on how geeky is the new cool, for sure. But overall it seemed a little fluffier than I was looking for…at least at the time. But I’ve been sick over the past couple weeks and fluffy was kinda what I needed. So I figured, if I’m gonna go fluffy, let me do it with rep. And I’m over here patting myself on the back for that decision. Let me tell you.
This is the story of three friends who travel from Australia to San Diego for a giant convention (SupaCon). One of these friends, Charlie, is a pretty famous vlogger and just starred in an indie movie that is getting quite the fandom. The other two, Taylor and Jamie, are just awesome nerdy friends who have wanted to go to SupaCon for years. Since this is the end of high school for them, they decided now would be the time to go big and tag along as Charlie does some press events for her movie. Of course, drama ensues: ex-boyfriends pop up unexpectedly, some friends break out of their years-long “just friends” dance, anxiety and self-consciousness are everywhere, and chances are taken on new loves.
Now, when I say this was a fluffy read, I mean it unequivocally. This is essentially a YA contemporary romance. But also, the setting and characters make it something so much…more(?)...than that. The question mark is because it really shouldn’t be anything more, but the unfortunate thing is that there are very few books out there with this kind of diverse representation in the characters. And there also aren’t many that take place in such a completely geeky setting. So yea, it was more. Anyways, let me expound on that a little. Taylor is a bit overweight and suffers from fairly extreme anxiety that has very recently been re-diagnosed as Autism Spectrum. Charlie is part-Asian and bisexual. Those are just the two narrators. And there are a number of other side characters and new friends that they meet at the convention that are similarly ability- and sexuality-diverse. I have not read a lot of books, if any, with protagonists like this, so bearing in mind the fact that there is not a lot out there for main-stream comparison, they were very authentically written. The labels aren’t there just on the surface, but permeate much deeper into their personalities, reactions and development throughout the book. (After reading more about the author, and learning that she too is bisexual and autistic, I feel like that explains her success on that front.)
I’m going to go a little more in depth about Charlie, specifically, because her character really spoke to me. She is overall really comfortable with herself and in her skin – being proudly out about her bisexuality. But at the same time, she has never actually been in a relationship with a girl. So when she starts down the road to that during this story, she is nervous about it, despite knowing it feels right. This situation is probably one that, as a reader, I identify with more than most books I read. I have alluded to this a number of times in other reviews, but this might be the first time I’m every fully writing it out. I am bisexual. And I have never dated a girl. Because honestly, it took me until very recently to really realize and understand that part of me. I think, growing up (and even past “growing up” and just being grown) I didn’t recognize what I was feeling. I figured it was just an extra strong admiration or friendship with certain females I had met, spoken with, seen on tv, etc. It never occurred to me that it could be anything more because growing up, I didn’t even know that liking someone my own gender was an option. Like, I didn’t think it was bad, I just didn’t even understand it as an option. And, since I liked and was attracted to guys too, and that was “normal,” I just went with it. And then I met my now husband when I was pretty young (19) and fell hard. And I don’t regret that for a second. He’s my lobster. And he has been super incredible and supportive as I have worked to figure out this part of myself. I wouldn’t give him up for the world. But now I’m also comfortable saying that, if (goodness forbid) anything ever happened to him, I’d be open to a much wider dating pool after him. Anyways, apparently, I decided this was going to be a whole personal and introspective type review and it got way long. The point is, I identified hard with Charlie here. And I completely appreciate Wilde writing a book like this, for all of us that didn’t know this was a thing you could be when we were Charlie’s age. She wrote in her interview at the back of the book that this was written in part because it’s the book she wished she had growing up. Me. Too. And I’m glad I found it now – better late than never.
So, back to the book itself. I also was a BIG fan (pun mostly intended) of the Comic-Con setting. I loved the Harry Potter type fandom that Taylor is part of (I FEEL that). And all the references to some of my favorites real-life fandoms just made me smile so big while reading. (I’m looking at you Supernatural and The Vampire Diaries). Honestly this was just an awesomely fun book to read, in that respect. Also, all the characters give each other wonderfully cheesy speeches about owning who you are and being comfortable in your own skin and it’s just a great big hug-fest of self-love all the way through. It might be a little much, at times, but I can’t even complain because who doesn’t need those kinds of reminders in their lives sometimes? No one. That’s who.
Bottom line, I finished this book with a heart brimming with empathy and feels. It may not be an incredibly deep or unique plot, but the genuine characters and nerdy setting gave it that something extra, at least for me. And it’s such a quick read. I binge read it in like, 2 hours. So Wilde gets my thanks and recommendation. Big fuzzy feels hugs to her.
This book was not super high on my TBR (though it was on it – because the cover is incredibly eye-catching and got me to read the synopsis) until I read about how legit Wilde is with writing representative characters. I mean, I am also a giant nerd and I love the focus on how geeky is the new cool, for sure. But overall it seemed a little fluffier than I was looking for…at least at the time. But I’ve been sick over the past couple weeks and fluffy was kinda what I needed. So I figured, if I’m gonna go fluffy, let me do it with rep. And I’m over here patting myself on the back for that decision. Let me tell you.
This is the story of three friends who travel from Australia to San Diego for a giant convention (SupaCon). One of these friends, Charlie, is a pretty famous vlogger and just starred in an indie movie that is getting quite the fandom. The other two, Taylor and Jamie, are just awesome nerdy friends who have wanted to go to SupaCon for years. Since this is the end of high school for them, they decided now would be the time to go big and tag along as Charlie does some press events for her movie. Of course, drama ensues: ex-boyfriends pop up unexpectedly, some friends break out of their years-long “just friends” dance, anxiety and self-consciousness are everywhere, and chances are taken on new loves.
Now, when I say this was a fluffy read, I mean it unequivocally. This is essentially a YA contemporary romance. But also, the setting and characters make it something so much…more(?)...than that. The question mark is because it really shouldn’t be anything more, but the unfortunate thing is that there are very few books out there with this kind of diverse representation in the characters. And there also aren’t many that take place in such a completely geeky setting. So yea, it was more. Anyways, let me expound on that a little. Taylor is a bit overweight and suffers from fairly extreme anxiety that has very recently been re-diagnosed as Autism Spectrum. Charlie is part-Asian and bisexual. Those are just the two narrators. And there are a number of other side characters and new friends that they meet at the convention that are similarly ability- and sexuality-diverse. I have not read a lot of books, if any, with protagonists like this, so bearing in mind the fact that there is not a lot out there for main-stream comparison, they were very authentically written. The labels aren’t there just on the surface, but permeate much deeper into their personalities, reactions and development throughout the book. (After reading more about the author, and learning that she too is bisexual and autistic, I feel like that explains her success on that front.)
I’m going to go a little more in depth about Charlie, specifically, because her character really spoke to me. She is overall really comfortable with herself and in her skin – being proudly out about her bisexuality. But at the same time, she has never actually been in a relationship with a girl. So when she starts down the road to that during this story, she is nervous about it, despite knowing it feels right. This situation is probably one that, as a reader, I identify with more than most books I read. I have alluded to this a number of times in other reviews, but this might be the first time I’m every fully writing it out. I am bisexual. And I have never dated a girl. Because honestly, it took me until very recently to really realize and understand that part of me. I think, growing up (and even past “growing up” and just being grown) I didn’t recognize what I was feeling. I figured it was just an extra strong admiration or friendship with certain females I had met, spoken with, seen on tv, etc. It never occurred to me that it could be anything more because growing up, I didn’t even know that liking someone my own gender was an option. Like, I didn’t think it was bad, I just didn’t even understand it as an option. And, since I liked and was attracted to guys too, and that was “normal,” I just went with it. And then I met my now husband when I was pretty young (19) and fell hard. And I don’t regret that for a second. He’s my lobster. And he has been super incredible and supportive as I have worked to figure out this part of myself. I wouldn’t give him up for the world. But now I’m also comfortable saying that, if (goodness forbid) anything ever happened to him, I’d be open to a much wider dating pool after him. Anyways, apparently, I decided this was going to be a whole personal and introspective type review and it got way long. The point is, I identified hard with Charlie here. And I completely appreciate Wilde writing a book like this, for all of us that didn’t know this was a thing you could be when we were Charlie’s age. She wrote in her interview at the back of the book that this was written in part because it’s the book she wished she had growing up. Me. Too. And I’m glad I found it now – better late than never.
So, back to the book itself. I also was a BIG fan (pun mostly intended) of the Comic-Con setting. I loved the Harry Potter type fandom that Taylor is part of (I FEEL that). And all the references to some of my favorites real-life fandoms just made me smile so big while reading. (I’m looking at you Supernatural and The Vampire Diaries). Honestly this was just an awesomely fun book to read, in that respect. Also, all the characters give each other wonderfully cheesy speeches about owning who you are and being comfortable in your own skin and it’s just a great big hug-fest of self-love all the way through. It might be a little much, at times, but I can’t even complain because who doesn’t need those kinds of reminders in their lives sometimes? No one. That’s who.
Bottom line, I finished this book with a heart brimming with empathy and feels. It may not be an incredibly deep or unique plot, but the genuine characters and nerdy setting gave it that something extra, at least for me. And it’s such a quick read. I binge read it in like, 2 hours. So Wilde gets my thanks and recommendation. Big fuzzy feels hugs to her.
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
I’ve had this one on my TBR for a few months now, having heard multiple times how good it is. And when I saw it on Book Outlet last time I was perusing the site (I won’t say how often I do that…gotta keep my book-buying complex on the DL as much as possible, haha) I went for it. This past weekend I was participating in the @25infive readathon and, since I had a lot of driving to do for work, I went ahead and got the audiobook as well. Excitingly, it was read by Khan-Cullors herself, which I know I’ve mentioned before is one of my favorite things
about listening to memoir-type nonfiction pieces. Anyways, I flew through this one.
Patrisse Khan-Cullors is one of three, along with Opal Tometi and Alicia Garza, who founded the #blacklivesmatter movement, when Trayvon Martin’s murderer walking free become a proverbial final straw for them. In this memoir, she takes us back to her childhood and youth around L.A. From an incredibly, tragically, young age, she began to experience the persecution and institutionalized racism the US inflicts upon the black and brown people that live here, particularly from law enforcement and the “justice” system. In her neighborhood, within her family, and personally, she lives a myriad of incidents that illustrate how pervasive, restrictive and violent the reality is. We see how this interacts with her own intersectional marginalization, being black, female and queer, as well as her brother’s, as a young, black man with a mental illness. And over the course of the book, we watch as she becomes an organizer, an activist and a major civil rights leader for the current age.
It’s been days since I finished this review and I am still working to process my reactions in a way that allows me to accurately reflect and share them in this written review. These are such sensitive topics, and such unbelievably important ones, that I want to make sure I do them justice. In addition, as an incredibly privileged white woman, I also want to make sure that I am as respectful and introspectively thorough as I can be. And to be perfectly honest, I am very nervous about making sure I do that right. All that being said, here we go.
First, let me just say that this book was absolutely phenomenal. An affecting, powerful, inspiring, eye-opening and heartbreaking memoir. Even with all that I have read, studied, asked, and learned, there is nothing that comes as close to understanding as hearing from Khan-Cullors, and others like her, from their own hearts and lives. The racial profiling, police brutality, systemic racism of the justice system, and more that Khan-Cullors faced even as a child, and that she (we) stills see(s) people of all ages, even young children, facing today, belies believing. In fact, while reading, this is the type of story that one wants to be a dystopian fiction. Or, barring that, one wants to believe that, at the very least, her lived experience is an extreme example. But it is not. Not even close. This is a reality for untold numbers of people in our country and it continues to be swept under the rug by those in positions of power. And the fact that this is not necessarily a “special” story, but rather one that is similarly experienced by so many (which she gives many examples of as well, throughout the narrative)…that is where the true terror and horror and impact and sadness, where the heart of Khan-Cullors’ message, lives. That is where the importance of sharing her story takes root.
There has been quite a bit of negative backlash and counter-protest to the BLM movement. The media, the voice of the majority, has proclaimed the intrinsic violence of the movement and of the people involved. But with this book, Khan-Cullors gives profound insight into the truth of the matter – that it was founded to protect some of the most vulnerable from the violence that is enacted against them every day. It is born of a love and a hope that their futures can be safer and full of opportunity for the same happiness and success that less vulnerable populations take for granted. And the way she takes the accusation of terrorism, thrown at many both prior to and in conjunction with BLM, and illustrates the absurdity of the charge being leveled against those who are in fact not terrorists, but have been victims of terrorism themselves, is clearly and deeply
rendered.
If you have never thought about these things before, or if you have ever been of the opinion that #alllivesmatter (or #bluelivesmatter) is a more important rallying cry than #blacklivesmatter, than I beg you to read this book. It makes it so clear that the issue is not that those other lives don’t matter, but that for so long it has been acted on that black lives do not, and this is to call attention specifically to that. It is enlightening, moving and at times, so appalling that it’s difficult to read. But for those of us who have never had to live those types of moments, it’s an absolutely necessary, required even, difficulty. Because just imagine…if it’s that hard to read, how much more impossible is it to live? And then, when you are done, I hope your thoughts have been reframed. Khan-Cullors presents so many important ideas, poses so many necessary questions, examines the true motivations behind so many policies/laws and dares the reader to dream of and work towards a better, more equal, future. And I challenge, for us all, myself included, that we find ways to share the message and take the action that this memoir calls for and desperately requires.
I listened to the audiobook, which was wonderful, but unfortunately did not allow me to mark pages of the quotes and passages that struck hardest (of which there were a ridiculous number). So, I have gathered here the ones that I was able to find going back through the physical book. But I encourage you to read it for yourself, because there are so many more that deserve to be shared:
“The binary that makes a person either good or bad is a dangerously false one for the widest majority of people. I am beginning to see that more than a single truth can live at the same time and in the same person.”
“We agree there is something that happens inside of a person, a people, a community when you think you will not live, that the people around you will not live. We talk about how you develop an attitude, one that dismisses hope, that discards dreams.”
“These pieces of family history and harm that never heal, that pass on generation to generation.”
“In California there are more than 4,800 barriers to re-entry, from jobs, housing and food bans, to school financial aid bans and the list goes on. You can have a two-year sentence but it doesn’t mean you’re not doing life.”
“What is the impact of not being valued?
How do you measure the loss of what a human being does not receive?”
“When I speak at universities, in colleges, I share these statistics. I tell them that even as we are labeled criminal, we are actually the victims of crime. And I tell them there are no stats to track collateral deaths, the ones that unfold over months and years spent in mourning and grief: the depression that becomes addiction to alcohol that becomes cirrhosis; or else addiction to food that becomes diabetes that becomes a stroke . Slow deaths . Undocumented deaths. Deaths with a common root: the hatred that tells a person daily that their life and the life of those they love ain't worth shit, a truth made ever more real when the people who harm you are never held accountable.”
I’ve had this one on my TBR for a few months now, having heard multiple times how good it is. And when I saw it on Book Outlet last time I was perusing the site (I won’t say how often I do that…gotta keep my book-buying complex on the DL as much as possible, haha) I went for it. This past weekend I was participating in the @25infive readathon and, since I had a lot of driving to do for work, I went ahead and got the audiobook as well. Excitingly, it was read by Khan-Cullors herself, which I know I’ve mentioned before is one of my favorite things
about listening to memoir-type nonfiction pieces. Anyways, I flew through this one.
Patrisse Khan-Cullors is one of three, along with Opal Tometi and Alicia Garza, who founded the #blacklivesmatter movement, when Trayvon Martin’s murderer walking free become a proverbial final straw for them. In this memoir, she takes us back to her childhood and youth around L.A. From an incredibly, tragically, young age, she began to experience the persecution and institutionalized racism the US inflicts upon the black and brown people that live here, particularly from law enforcement and the “justice” system. In her neighborhood, within her family, and personally, she lives a myriad of incidents that illustrate how pervasive, restrictive and violent the reality is. We see how this interacts with her own intersectional marginalization, being black, female and queer, as well as her brother’s, as a young, black man with a mental illness. And over the course of the book, we watch as she becomes an organizer, an activist and a major civil rights leader for the current age.
It’s been days since I finished this review and I am still working to process my reactions in a way that allows me to accurately reflect and share them in this written review. These are such sensitive topics, and such unbelievably important ones, that I want to make sure I do them justice. In addition, as an incredibly privileged white woman, I also want to make sure that I am as respectful and introspectively thorough as I can be. And to be perfectly honest, I am very nervous about making sure I do that right. All that being said, here we go.
First, let me just say that this book was absolutely phenomenal. An affecting, powerful, inspiring, eye-opening and heartbreaking memoir. Even with all that I have read, studied, asked, and learned, there is nothing that comes as close to understanding as hearing from Khan-Cullors, and others like her, from their own hearts and lives. The racial profiling, police brutality, systemic racism of the justice system, and more that Khan-Cullors faced even as a child, and that she (we) stills see(s) people of all ages, even young children, facing today, belies believing. In fact, while reading, this is the type of story that one wants to be a dystopian fiction. Or, barring that, one wants to believe that, at the very least, her lived experience is an extreme example. But it is not. Not even close. This is a reality for untold numbers of people in our country and it continues to be swept under the rug by those in positions of power. And the fact that this is not necessarily a “special” story, but rather one that is similarly experienced by so many (which she gives many examples of as well, throughout the narrative)…that is where the true terror and horror and impact and sadness, where the heart of Khan-Cullors’ message, lives. That is where the importance of sharing her story takes root.
There has been quite a bit of negative backlash and counter-protest to the BLM movement. The media, the voice of the majority, has proclaimed the intrinsic violence of the movement and of the people involved. But with this book, Khan-Cullors gives profound insight into the truth of the matter – that it was founded to protect some of the most vulnerable from the violence that is enacted against them every day. It is born of a love and a hope that their futures can be safer and full of opportunity for the same happiness and success that less vulnerable populations take for granted. And the way she takes the accusation of terrorism, thrown at many both prior to and in conjunction with BLM, and illustrates the absurdity of the charge being leveled against those who are in fact not terrorists, but have been victims of terrorism themselves, is clearly and deeply
rendered.
If you have never thought about these things before, or if you have ever been of the opinion that #alllivesmatter (or #bluelivesmatter) is a more important rallying cry than #blacklivesmatter, than I beg you to read this book. It makes it so clear that the issue is not that those other lives don’t matter, but that for so long it has been acted on that black lives do not, and this is to call attention specifically to that. It is enlightening, moving and at times, so appalling that it’s difficult to read. But for those of us who have never had to live those types of moments, it’s an absolutely necessary, required even, difficulty. Because just imagine…if it’s that hard to read, how much more impossible is it to live? And then, when you are done, I hope your thoughts have been reframed. Khan-Cullors presents so many important ideas, poses so many necessary questions, examines the true motivations behind so many policies/laws and dares the reader to dream of and work towards a better, more equal, future. And I challenge, for us all, myself included, that we find ways to share the message and take the action that this memoir calls for and desperately requires.
I listened to the audiobook, which was wonderful, but unfortunately did not allow me to mark pages of the quotes and passages that struck hardest (of which there were a ridiculous number). So, I have gathered here the ones that I was able to find going back through the physical book. But I encourage you to read it for yourself, because there are so many more that deserve to be shared:
“The binary that makes a person either good or bad is a dangerously false one for the widest majority of people. I am beginning to see that more than a single truth can live at the same time and in the same person.”
“We agree there is something that happens inside of a person, a people, a community when you think you will not live, that the people around you will not live. We talk about how you develop an attitude, one that dismisses hope, that discards dreams.”
“These pieces of family history and harm that never heal, that pass on generation to generation.”
“In California there are more than 4,800 barriers to re-entry, from jobs, housing and food bans, to school financial aid bans and the list goes on. You can have a two-year sentence but it doesn’t mean you’re not doing life.”
“What is the impact of not being valued?
How do you measure the loss of what a human being does not receive?”
“When I speak at universities, in colleges, I share these statistics. I tell them that even as we are labeled criminal, we are actually the victims of crime. And I tell them there are no stats to track collateral deaths, the ones that unfold over months and years spent in mourning and grief: the depression that becomes addiction to alcohol that becomes cirrhosis; or else addiction to food that becomes diabetes that becomes a stroke . Slow deaths . Undocumented deaths. Deaths with a common root: the hatred that tells a person daily that their life and the life of those they love ain't worth shit, a truth made ever more real when the people who harm you are never held accountable.”