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Book Review: Leaving Atlanta by Tayari Jones (Audiobook narrated by ensemble)
Summary:
It’s 1979 in Atlanta, Georgia, and someone is kidnapping–and killing–black children. How this terror haunts one fifth-grade classroom is told through three different perspectives. Tasha, whose parents are “living apart” for a while. A painfully intelligent boy named Rodney who does not actually consider himself lucky to still have his father at home. And Octavia, better known as Sweet-Pea by her family and Watusi by her classmates. She’s the darkest-skinned child in the classroom, and is ridiculed by them all, but she has a spirit that outshines everyone.
Review:
The Atlanta child murders of 1979 to 1980 were a real thing that overshadowed the author’s own childhood. Jones clearly remembers what it was to be in fifth grade and relates those emotions with raw detail, but she also brings along an educated adult’s understanding of race and race relations in the American south. This all combines to create a powerful story that sweeps the reader away to another place and time while simultaneously leaving them with greater understanding.
The book is divided into three sections. Each child’s tale is told through a different narrative method. Tasha’s uses third person. Rodney’s second person, where the reader is told “you are” in an attempt to put the reader closer into Rodney’s shoes. Finally, Octavia’s is told in first person. Tasha’s story covers the first part of the school year, Rodney’s the second, and Octavia’s goes through January. It’s an interesting narrative choice that ultimately works. The reader sees three different reactions to the child murders and race relations at three different points in the crisis, in addition to the children’s observations of other people’s reactions. It provides a multi-layered perspective that clearly demonstrates the complexity of all points the story touches upon: crime, race relations, broken families, class issues, and even just the process of growing up.
I appreciate the narrative complexity that Jones chose, but I do feel the story told suffers a bit. I identified so much more strongly with Octavia than either of the other two children because her voice and personality were able to shine through so much more clearly. Of course, it’s possible that this is the whole point. In fact, it does feel a bit like the whole book is just building up to Octavia’s story. But although I had a similar level of attachment to Tasha, I simply didn’t feel that way for Rodney. Part of that could have been the narrator chosen for Rodney. His voice was rather flat and dull without the nuance of the other two narrators. But I don’t think that the second person narrative tense helped much. Thankfully, Rodney’s portion of the book was quick, and the other two sections more than made up for it.
Speaking of the other two narrators, I feel bad that I was unable to find any of the ensemble’s names. The women who narrated Tasha and Octavia did a phenomenal job. They captured both the age and the dialect of the children without once slipping into a tone that could be perceived of as false or mocking. They truly embodied the little girls, and I felt I got something extra from listening to the audiobook, which is precisely how it should feel. It’s unfortunate that the narrator for Rodney failed to do the same thing, providing a rather lackluster, mediocre performance.
The social justice commentary enmeshed in the book is brilliant. One cannot possibly read this book and not see how racism and entrenched classism negatively impacts children and families. Even at ten, these children get it that the media and police care less about them getting kidnapped that they would if they were white. Even at ten the children have already learned racism so well that they ostracize the darkest child in their class. (This book made me very interested in reading more about racism within the black community). Most powerful to me, though, particularly after reading the books in The Real Help Reading Project, is how subtly Jones demonstrates the difficult choices parents and other adults must make to provide what is best for their children and how that is exacerbated by inequality. I’d be more clear, but that would give away the ending of the book. Suffice to say it’s a powerful message presented in a subtle manner through a little girl with whom it is impossible not to establish a connection.
Overall this is an engaging, thought-provoking piece of historical fiction. It brings the reader directly into a classroom of fifth graders to see how not just a kidnapping and killing spree but also enmeshed racism and sexism impact the present and future of children. Recommended to fans of historical and literary fiction.
4 out of 5 stars
Source: Audible
Book Review: The Walking Dead: Rise of the Governor by Robert Kirkman and Jay Bonansinga (Series, #1)
Summary:
The first in a prequel trilogy that relates how the baddest villain of The Walking Dead’s zombie apocalypse came to be–not just how he came to rule Woodbury, but how he became an evil sociopath.
Review:
Wow. Just wow. If I could be a good book blogger and just say that I would, but I can’t so I suppose I must attempt to put my love for this book into words.
First of all, it’s important to know that this is sort of a prequel to The Walking Dead graphic novels. It’s the origin story of The Governor (aka one of the most evil comic book villains ever). Only instead of sticking to his graphic novel format, Kirkman, with the assistance of Bonansinga, went with the written word. Now, I was offered this book as an audiobook, and I have to say this really affected my reading of it. The reader, Fred Berman, does an absolutely amazing job. He has a natural standard American accent, but seamlessly slips into a Southern drawl when the characters speak. Beyond this though he is able to bring the anguish and tensity to the survival scenes that is necessary without seeming melodramatic. It reminded me of being read to by my own father when I was a little girl. I found myself choosing to curl up with the audiobook over many other activities. So. I’m not sure if the experience is the same reading it yourself. I do know that listening to the audiobook is a remarkable experience.
Now, this is a zombie apocalypse horror novel about an evil man. It gets uncomfortable. Kirkman and Bonansinga bring us inside the minds of men warped by situations and psychiatric problems alike. It’s not pretty. It makes you squirm. But it’s supposed to. Some reviewers have accused this book of being misogynistic because bad things seem to happen an awful lot to the female characters. I have a couple of things to say about that. First of all, hello, do you live in this world? Because women have to survive a lot of bad shit. Second, this is an apocalypse. Think of it as a war zone. Do women get molested, raped, murdered, treated as less strong and unequal? Absolutely. The book isn’t misogynistic. It’s realistic about how a south torn apart by zombies would treat women. The way to determine if a book in this sort of situation is misogynistic is to look at how the author treats the women. Does he present them as hysterical, over-reacting? Do they refuse to stand up for themselves? I can unequivocally say that although horrible things happen to the women in this book, they fight for themselves. It is therefore not misogynistic, but realistic.
Now one thing that probably a lot of people wonder is is the story predictable? We already know who The Governor is and that he keeps his zombie daughter as a pet. That would seem to remove the ability for the authors to surprise us at all. I am happy to say that in spite of knowing the end result, this story kept me on the edge of my seat. Some readers didn’t like all of the surprises and twists. Personally, I feel that they brought the novel up a notch in both talent and enjoyability.
Overall, this is a wonderful addition to The Walking Dead canon. Fans of the graphic novel series will not be disappointed, although fans of the tv show seem to be taken aback by it. All I can say is that the books don’t pull any punches and are not for the squeamish. If you don’t want to be challenged, stick to tv. Everyone else should scoop this up as soon as possible.
5 out of 5 stars
Source: Copy from the publisher in exchange for my honest review and a giveaway
Book Review: To ‘Joy My Freedom: Southern Black Women’s Lives and Labors After the Civil War by Tera W. Hunter (The Real Help Reading Project)
Summary:
Hunter examines the lives of southern black women, particularly southern domestic workers, by narrowing her focus in on the development of the city of Atlanta after the Civil War. Since many ex-slaves moved to Atlanta and then migrated again north during the Great Migration decades later, this makes for an excellent focal point for the topic. By examining black women’s lives in Atlanta both in and out of their employer’s homes, she is able to dissect the roles of race, class, and gender in the elite’s attempts to maintain dominance in America.
Review:
I’ve said throughout the project that the nonfiction books have come up a bit short for me. Although they’ve contained valuable information, they haven’t been the most readable. Nonfiction can tell a story too, and Hunter does exactly that. She explores so much more than just the women’s lives in relation to their employers. Atlanta truly comes to life as we see the women commute to work via bicycle so as to avoid racist trolley lines and kick up their heels on the interracial Decatur Street after dark. We also get to see the empowering role of secret societies in black women’s lives, as well as reclamation of performing in black face and the terrifying resurgence of the Ku Klux Klan. It is impossible not to be moved and outraged by the tale of these women’s struggles. The book addresses three issues: classism, racism, and sexism.
In spite of Americans being told repeatedly that the American Dream is available to all if you work hard enough, Hunter quickly shows how the poor are fighting a losing battle and on top of it are demonized by the wealthy. For instance, the use of debt to keep the poor enslaved:
Poor women often borrowed money in meager amounts, less than one dollar at a time, amassed running accounts for several months or years, and repaid ever-accumulating interest in small installments. Many moneylenders were usurious. It was common for borrowers to pay 250 to 3500 percent interest on small sums, which exacerbated poverty with interminable debt. Fannie Holman, a washerwoman, borrowed between $60 and $90 over a two- or three-year period. Though she would repay over $1,000, the creditor applied it to defray the interest but not the principal of the loan. (page 134)
Similarly, upper class employers’ attempts to control every aspect of their employee’s lives, claiming a right over their bodies:
Dance halls were a menace, declared Proctor, because “the servant class tried to work all day and dance all night.” He warned employers that household laborers would not perform well if they used their leisure unproductively—dancing instead of resting in preparation for the next day of work. (page 179)
Hunter via maps and clear explanations demonstrates how the wealthy acquired the highest land in Atlanta most conveniently near shopping and such, while the poor and blacks were forced into the lowest land that, in addition, sewage was dumped into. These conditions combined with the poor housing provided by slumlords made a perfect scenario for disease, and yet the poor were blamed for the outbreak of tuberculosis in the city and even accused of exposing wealthy whites to it:
Tuberculosis signified more than a purely physiological condition. The disease became a medium for “framing” tensions in labor and race relations, with the rhetoric cloaked in scientific and medical legitimacy. (page 187)
Of course, the fact that black workers were poor was no coincidence. The entire city conspired since the Civil War to make black Americans poor and keep them that way. The wealthy whites, and in a lot of cases the poor whites, wanted black people out of sight and out of mind unless they were actively in service to them
Jim Crow and domestic labor thus represented contradictory desires among urban whites striving to distance themselves from an “inferior race,” but dependent on the very same people they despised to perform the most intimate labor in their homes. (page 105)
Segregation was not a system imposed entirely from above; it also helped to advance the interests of white workers, who were able to gain status from their position in the social hierarchy above all blacks. (page 119)
Jim Crow parks were designed not simply to put white urbanites closer to nature, but also to give them moments of reprieve and distance from blacks in order to channel racial friction in “wholesome” directions. (page 147)
Of course, on top of having their fight for the right over their own bodies and lives depicted by the ruling white class as them being uppity servants and uppity blacks, women had the additional injustice of having their femininity and womanhood called into question.
Like the defiant women in Galveston, strikers in Atlanta showed little attachment to prevailing middle-class conventions of femininity. As they did on other occasions, working-class women used street fights to settle disputes that jeopardized their unity and engaged in militant resistance. (page 89)
The moral implications of women consuming intoxicating substances troubled many middle-class blacks and whites. Women not only evaded laws prohibiting them from entering saloons, they frequented bar room “annexes,” they drank alcohol in alleys and streets, and they sold beer from their homes. (page 165)
I usually don’t quote this much, but the whole book is just so good. The three-way injustices faced by black working class women is palpable throughout. Facing one alone would be daunting enough, but facing three feels terrifyingly insurmountable even just reading about it, let alone living it. And yet some black domestic workers did pull through in spite of the odds and do great things. Women like Carrie Steele.
Former slave Carrie Steele, a stewardess and cook at the train station, volunteered her time as a probation officer for children in trouble with the law. This experience and her childhood as an orphan inspired her to start an orphanage in 1890. She believed that many of the children she came in contact with had fallen on hard times because they had no families to take care of them. Steele raised money to purchase four acres of land and the orphans’ first home by selling her own house, writing and selling her autobiography, and soliciting funds from generous individuals, black and white. By 1898 the Steele orphanage consisted of a brick building, hospital, and schoolhouse, and more than two hundred children had passed through its portals since its founding. (page 142)
Inspirational. Humbling. Awe-inspiring. Words that describe both Carrie Steele’s life and the book as a whole. Read it.
Source: Public Library
Discussion Questions:
- Why do you think Decatur Street was allowed to continue in spite of being the only known location in Atlanta where the races mingled?
- Hunter values the dance halls for the role of letting off steam and embracing black culture they played in black Americans’ lives. How do you feel about them?
- In spite of viewing black Americans as “unclean,” white Atlantans persisted in sending their laundry out to black homes to be washed. Why do you think people were able to hold onto such illogical dichotomies?
- Given the depiction of of everything stacked against them, do you view drug dealers, bootleggers, prostitutes, etc… differently now than you did before?
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Book Review: The Walking Dead, Book 1 by Robert Kirkman (Series, #1) (Graphic Novel)
Summary:
When cop Rick wakes up from a coma brought on by a gun shot wound, he discovers a post-apocalyptic mess and zombies everywhere. He sets off for Atlanta in search of his wife, Lori, and son, Carl, and soon teams up with a rag-tag group of survivors camped just outside of Atlanta.
Review:
I just want to point out that this review is purely focused on the graphic novel, not the tv series. I haven’t even seen more than 10 minutes of the tv show, so remember this is about the books not the show. Thanks! Moving along….
I almost gave up on this within the first few pages, because COME ON. Can we PLEASE get over the whole oh I had a coma and then woke up to a zombie apocalypse trope, please? First, it is so highly statistically unlikely that it was laughable the first few times it was used in my beloved dystopian novels, but at this point it just looks lazy. Come up with some other way to start the apocalypse, ok? I don’t care if your main character is out of touch with reality for a few days because he’s on a drug-fueled sex streak. At least it would be different! Also, a cop, really? You want me to root for a cop? And everyone trusts him because he’s a cop? A cop is the last person I would put in charge if I was a member of a rag-tag bunch of survivors; I’m just saying.
Once we move on beyond the initial set-up though to the group of survivors caravaning their way across America, the story vastly improves. The people are real. They’re scared. They’re angry. The snap easily. They hook up with whoever is convenient (and not necessarily young and hot). They teach the kids to use guns. It’s everything we know and love about post-apocalypse stories.
The artwork is good. Scenes are easy to interpret; characters are easy to tell apart. The zombies are deliciously grotesque, although I did find myself giggling at them saying “guk.” Guk? Really? Ok….
The best part, though, is the people that in your everyday life you are just like, come on, god, bolt of lighting, right here? They’re the ones who get eaten by zombies! It is excellent. So that really annoying chick in camp? Totally gets her head bit by a zombie. It’s cathartic and awesome.
The cast is diverse, and no, the black guy is not the first to be eaten (or the red shirt guy for that matter). It wouldn’t kill Kirkman to be a little less heteronormative, but he’s still got time and more survivors to add.
Overall, this is a good first entry in a zombie apocalypse series. Kirkman needs to be more careful to stay away from expected tropes in the genre and bring more of the creativity it is apparent he is capable of. I recommend it to fans of zombies, obviously. 😉
4 out of 5 stars
Source: Public Library
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