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Friday Fun! (June: Vacation at the Races)

The motorcycle race track has many turns and elevation changes to be more interesting for the racers.
Hello my lovely readers!
After the busyness of May, I was incredibly grateful to have a whole week off in the month of June! My bf only had half the week off, so at the start of the week I spring cleaned (umm….in June), made my favorite pie (strawberry-rhubarb), and got ready for our camping trip at the races. My bf’s hobby is racing motorcycles, and when he goes to the track, he camps there. Since I had the time off, I was able to go with him. I’m not able to go every time, unfortunately. I was so excited to get to be there! I love getting to see him race! It’s so exciting, and I love that his hobby is so unique and requires such a complex skill set, from actually riding to maintaining the bike. I also love camping and camping at the track is a wonderful different kind of camping. The excitement of being at the track and hanging out with the racers and their families and pit crews around the campfire at night is so much fun. My dad bought us a grill, so I was finally able to cook most of our foods at the track. I took to pinterest and discovered lots of fun things you can grill. I made us grilled tofu tacos, grilled quesadillas, breakfast of course, and, our favorite, zucchini parmesan. I loved getting to spend so much time on one of my hobbies while supporting my boyfriend’s.
With my vacation in there, I’m pleased with how many book reviews I managed to write this month (eight). I had dubbed June the month of reading ARCs, and I managed to get through four of them this month, taking my total number of TBR ARCs down to 16. I finished designing a new cross-stitch pattern, but I have yet to post it since it is a present, and the recipient has yet to receive it! This month I’ll be working on my first commission. I’m excited to show it to you guys when I’m finished.
Happy reading!
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: Fire Baptized by Kenya Wright (Series, #1)
Summary:
The humans won the supe-human war, and now all supernaturals are confined to caged cities whose bars are made up of every metal that is harmful to supes. They also all have a brand on their forehead letting everyone now immediately what type of supernatural they are–crescent moon for shifter, full moon for vampire, wings for fairy, X for mixbreed, which is what Lanore just happens to be. Lanore is hoping to be the first mixie to graduate from the caged city’s university, and she also works on the side with another mixie, Zulu, to run a mixie civil rights group. The purebloods by and large hate mixies. As if her life wasn’t already complicated enough, one night Lanore witnesses a murder, and the murderer turns out to be a serial killer. Now Lanore is on his list.
Review:
I am so glad I accepted this review copy. The branding of supes and caged cities was enough to show me that this is a unique urban fantasy series, but I wasn’t aware that it’s also a heavily African-American culture influenced series, and that just makes it even more unique and fun.
It’s not new to parallel supe civil rights issues with those of minorities, but they often flounder. Wright’s book depicts the complexities eloquently. Making a group within the supes that the supes hate makes it more closely parallel the real world. The addition of the brands on the foreheads also makes the supernatural race immediately identifiable just as race is in the real world by skin color. The caged cities are also a great analogy of inner city life and how much of a trap it can feel like. The fact that Lanore accidentally witnesses a murder on her way home from school is something that can and does happen in the real world.
The other element that I really enjoyed is how Wright brings the African-American religion of Santeria into the mix. She provides multiple perspectives on the religion naturally through the different characters. Lanore doesn’t believe in any religion. MeShack, her ex-boyfriend and roommate, does, and it helps him in his life. And of course the serial killer also believes in Santeria but is going about it the wrong way, as Lanore eventually learns. The book naturally teaches the reader a few things about Santeria, which is often maligned and misunderstood in America. But it does it within the course of the story without ever feeling preachy.
The sex scenes (we all know we partially read urban fantasy for those) were hot and incorporated shifter abilities without ever tipping too far into creepy beastiality land. They were so well-written, I actually found myself blushing a bit to be reading them on the bus (and hoped no one would peak over my shoulder at that moment).
The plot itself is strong through most of the book. The serial killer is genuinely scary, and Lanore doesn’t suddenly morph into some superhero overnight. She maintains her everywoman quality throughout. I wasn’t totally happy with the climax. I didn’t dislike it, but I also think the rest of the book was so well-done that I was expecting something a bit more earth-shattering.
There are two things in the book that knocked it down from loved it to really liked it for me. They both have to do with Zulu. Zulu is a white guy, but his beast form is a black dude with silver wings. I am really not sure what Wright is trying to say with this characterization and plot point. It wasn’t clear when it first happens, and I was still baffled by the choice by the end of the book. In a book that so clearly talks about race, with an author so attuned to the issues innate in race relations, it is clear that this was a conscious choice on her part. But I am still unclear as to why. Hopefully the rest of the books in the series will clear this up for me. My other issue is with how possessive Zulu is of Lanore. He essentially tells her that she’s his whether she likes it or not, and she goes along with it. Why must this theme come up over and over again in urban fantasy and paranormal romance? A man can have supernatural powers and not use them as an excuse to be an abusive douche. I’m just saying. But. This is part of a series, so perhaps these two issues will be addressed in the next book. But for right now, I’m kinda sad that Lanore chose Zulu.
Overall, this is a unique piece of urban fantasy. The tables are turned on the supes with them in caged cities, and the creative use of forehead brands and the existence of mixed-breed supernaturals are used intelligently as a commentary on race relations in the United States. I highly recommend it to urban fantasy fans and am eagerly anticipating reading the next entry in the series myself.
4 out of 5 stars
Source: Kindle copy from author in exchange for my honest review
Movie Review: Skin (2008) South Africa
Summary:
Based on a true story, Sandra Laing was born black to two white parents. Something that is an interesting anomaly of unacknowledged or unknown ancestors, but unfortunately for Sandra it was oh so much more than that. Sandra was born in South Africa during Apartheid, and her white Afrikaner parents were members of the National Party. This film chronicles her fascinating life from a young girl hidden from the sun in the hopes that her skin would lighten as she grew older to a young runaway marriage to striking out on her own with her children.
Review:
I know movie reviews have been scarce around here. That’s mostly because since I joined the gym my evening free time is spent either there or reading. This weekend though I had a cold and a bit of a fuzzy head from a fever so I randomly chose an interesting looking movie from my Netflix recommendations. I had no idea when I chose it that Sandra Laing’s story is a true one. I didn’t realize this bit of information until the end credits. I thought it was one of those “what if” scenarios and knowing that this actually happened makes the whole thing incredibly painful.
We know that innate parental unconditional love is a myth. And if there was ever a true story that should unequivocally dispel this myth once and for all, it’s Sandra’s. Is there anything more abusive, more unloving than raising your child in a culture that hates her and doing, really, nothing about it? Although her parents did fight to have her classified as white and not colored (so they could keep custody of her, because apparently children had to be raised by parents of the same race during Apartheid), they did little else to protect her. Indeed, by her teen years her father was pressuring her to behave for white boys who were being verbally cruel at best or attempting to rape her at worst on dates. It’s little wonder Sandra ran off to be with a black man she met. Your role as a parent should be to protect your child and prepare her to take care of herself in the real world and advocate for herself. But Sandra’s parents’ racism clouded everything so much that the most they did was attempt to hide her.
Of course, the problem then became that Sandra was raised in a privileged background, and that’s all some of the black South Africans could see when they looked at her, including her own husband. He says to her at one point, “You still think of yourself as white.” I find it fascinating how people can become so wrapped up in their own problems resulting from inequality that they fail to see the pain inflicted by it on others, even others that they love.
The actress who plays the older Sandra does a great job showing her progression from a hopeful teen to a downtrodden factory worker at the end of Apartheid. The trauma from a life where everyone judged her either on her own skin tone or that of her parents is abundantly evident on the actresses’ face.
That said, while the topic is incredibly important and the true life events heart-breaking, I don’t think the movie itself does the real story true justice. The actors and actresses did a fine job with what they were given, but even basic googling shows that the story was cleaned up for a mainstream audience, which I think was a very poor decision on the part of the filmmakers. Sandra’s life was actually more difficult than they even give her credit for. For instance, she left home at only 15 (she seems much older in the film), her first husband already had a first wife, she actually had six children not two, etc…. (Essence, The Guardian, Women and Hollywood)
Personally, I view this movie as a gateway to the far more fascinating nitty gritty true story. I’m adding the book by the journalist Judith Stone about her work with Sandra to attempt to figure out her past called When She Was White. But. If you don’t have the time to get into it in depth, the short biopic is definitely a better choice than say the latest romcom out of Hollywood. It will push you to confront the tragedy of racism and the myth of parental love against all odds.
4 out of 5 stars
Source: Netflix Instant
Book Review: Brothers (and Me): A Memoir of Loving and Giving by Donna Britt
Summary:
Now in her fifties, Donna Britt, an award-winning and ground-breaking black, female journalist, takes a look back at her life to see what has influenced her the most. She is unsurprised to find that her life has largely been affected by loving and giving to brothers–black men she’s both related to and not. From growing up surrounded by three blood brothers, to loving brothers, to raising them, Britt discusses the universal influence heterosexual women’s love for men has on their lives, as well as the unique aspect of loving a race of men persecuted in the United States and raising her three boys in the face of the odds stacked against them.
Review:
Britt’s career as a writer shows in her memoir. It is the most well put-together memoir I’ve read in quite some time. Each chapter looks at a key event in her life in order of it being lived, but also looks at the impact those events had on her as a person. She does this by starting with a photograph and an anecdote related to the event, then moves on to describing the event in detail. Everything in her life, though, is impacted by her brother, Darrell’s, death at the hands of two policemen in his early 20s. This terribly unjust incident and how it flavors the rest of her life is the simplest and most effective anti police brutality message I’ve ever read. Was her brother threatening the officers? Maybe. But all it would have taken was for those two men to aim to stop rather than to kill to prevent the loss of someone’s loved one. Britt says later in her memoir that she knows that those officers just saw “a crazy black man” and not a person, and it is now her goal to always see the person, not the stereotype.
Britt, like other memoirists I’ve enjoyed, never takes a “poor me” attitude or tone, in spite of the fact that she really could given the loss of her brother, being raped, and a first marriage to a man who soon got lost in cocaine addiction. Not to mention her second husband’s affair. Yet, through all of this, Britt’s resilience is evident. She constantly tries to improve not just the world but herself. Britt has an ability to look at herself without rose-tinted glasses. She knows her own faults, primarily that she’s a perfectionist and expects too much from people. I think that’s what makes her so relatable and sympathetic. She’s an imperfect person struggling in an imperfect world, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t right about the injustices she’s seen throughout her life.
I think any female reader who has a brother can understand the other central question in Britt’s memoir–How exactly did these boys who were our brothers who loved us and pranked us and guarded us with their fists when we were young grow up into these baffling men? Boys are easy to understand. Men, not so much. That’s even the case with Britt’s own brothers, one of whom grew from a rebel into a religious man who changes his name from Steve to Melech and whom she barely speaks to anymore. Why is it when boys become men and we go from girls to women that communication becomes so hard? Hard, but rewarding and not impossible. Sure, no answers are offered, but it’s nice to see this experience through someone else’s eyes.
Beyond social justice and the universal communication difficulties between men and women, Britt’s memoir also clearly demonstrates an issue that is sometimes hard to explain–that of privilege. Those born with privilege sometimes have a hard time understanding what, exactly, it is those without it are speaking about. I sometimes wonder myself if I’d understand privilege if I’d been born a white MAN instead of a white WOMAN. Britt with a gift of subtlety makes this clear. She talks about needing to be extra perfect, extra good in order to combat the stereotype of the useless black children. Of feeling like she’s representing the entire race when she’s the only black student in her graduate class. Of the fact that maybe if her brother had been white and acting crazy the cops might not have shot him. Of being extra concerned when her son shoplifts because he probably wouldn’t get away with just a slap on the wrist if he got caught. Instead of talking loudly about privilege, it’s simply evident throughout her entire life and the lives of those around her. I would hope that anyone reading this would start to see how inequality survives today, even if it’s not as institutionalized as it once was.
Overall, this is a powerful memoir by a humble woman that again demonstrates why it’s important to listen to the life stories of those older than us. There is always something to learn or to relate to from their life journey. I, naturally, don’t always agree with Britt or her choices, but I respect her commitment to living the best life she can.
I recommend this memoir to fans of the genre, especially, but also to those with an interest in racism in 20th century America and relationships between men and women.
4 out of 5 stars
Source: NetGalley
Book Review: The Burning Sky by Joseph Robert Lewis (Series, #1)
Summary:
In an alternate vision of history, the Ice Age has lingered in Europe, slowing down Europeans’ rate of civilization and allowing Ifrica (Africa) to take the lead. Add to this a disease in the New World that strikes down the invaders instead of vice versa, and suddenly global politics are entirely different. In this world, steam power has risen as the power of choice, and women are more likely to be the breadwinners. Taziri is an airship co-pilot whose airfield is attacked in an act of terrorism. She suddenly finds herself flying investigating marshals and a foreign doctor summoned by the queen herself all over the country. Soon the societal unrest allowing for a plot against the queen becomes abundantly clear.
Review:
Can I just say, finally someone wrote a steampunk book I actually like, and it’s a fellow indie kindle author to boot! All of the possibilities innate in steampunk that no other book I’ve read has taken advantage of are used to their fullest possibilities by Lewis.
I love that Lewis used uncontrollable environmental factors to change the political dynamics of the world. Anybody who has studied History for any length of time is aware how much of conquering and advancement is based on dumb luck. (The guns, germs, and steel theory). Lewis eloquently demonstrates how culture is created both by the people and their surroundings and opportunities. For instance, whereas in reality the Native Americans had to rely on dogs for assistance and transportation against invaders on horseback, Lewis has given the Incans giant cats and eagles that they tame to fight invaders. Similarly, in Europe the Europeans are constantly fighting a dangerous, cold environment and have dealt with this harsh landscape by becoming highly superstitious, religious people. This alternate setting allows for Lewis to play with questions of colonization, race, and technology versus tradition in thought-provoking ways.
Women are in positions of power in this world, but instead of making them either perfect or horrible as is often the short-coming of imagined matriarchies, there are good and bad women. Some of the women in power are brilliant and kind, while others are cruel. This is as it should be because women are people just like men. We’re not innately better or worse. Of course, I couldn’t help but enjoy a story where a soldier is mentioned then a character addresses her as ma’am, without anyone feeling the need to point out that this is a woman soldier. Her gender is just assumed. That was fun.
Although Taziri does seem to be the main focus of this book, the story is told by switching around among a few main characters who find themselves swept together in the finale for the ultimate battle to save or assassinate the queen. This strategy reminded me a bit of Michael Crichton’s Next where seemingly unrelated characters suddenly find how their destinies are all connected together. Lewis does a good job with this, although personally I found the beginning a bit slow-moving. It all comes together well in the end, though, with everything resulting in a surprising, yet logical, ending.
What kept me from completely loving the book is that I feel it needs to be slightly more tightly edited and paced. Some sections were longer than they needed to be, which I can certainly understand, because Lewis has made a fun world to play around in, but as a reader reading what amounts to a thriller, I wanted things to move faster.
That said, I thoroughly enjoyed exploring the steampunk world Lewis has created after a couple of years of loving the fashions and possibilities but finding no steampunk books I liked. If someone were to ask me where to start with steampunk, I would point them here since it demonstrates the possibilities for exploring race, colonization, and gender, showing that steampunk is more than just an extended Victorian era.
Overall this is a wonderful book, far better than the traditionally published steampunk I’ve read. I highly recommend it to fans of alternate history, political intrigue, and steampunk alike. Plus it’s only 99 cents on the kindle. You can’t beat prices like that.
4 out of 5 stars
Source: Won on LibraryThing from the author in exchange for my honest review
Book Review: The Book of Night Women by Marlon James (The Real Help Reading Project)
Summary:
This is the story of Lilith. A mulatto with green eyes born on a plantation in Jamaica to a mama who was raped at 14 by the overseer as punishment to her brother. Raised by a whore and a crazy man, all Lilith has ever wanted was to improve her status on the plantation. And maybe to understand why her green eyes seem to freak out slave and master alike. Assigned to be a house slave, Lilith finds herself in direct contact with the most powerful slave on the plantation–Homer, who is in charge of the household. Homer brings her into a secret meeting of the night women in a cave on the grounds and attempts to bring Lilith into a rebellion plot, insisting upon the darkness innate in Lilith’s soul. But Lilith isn’t really sure what exactly will get her what she truly wants–to feel safe and be with the man she cares for.
Discussion:
This is the third book and second fictional work for The Real Help reading project I’m co-hosting with Amy, and it totally blew me away. A reading experience like this is what makes reading projects/challenges such a pleasure to participate in. I never would have picked up this book off the shelf by myself, but having it on the list for the project had me seek it out and determined to read it within a set length of time. Reading the blurb, there’s no way I would imagine identifying with the protagonist so strongly, but I did, and that’s what made for such a powerful experience for me. The more I read literature set in a variety of times and places, the more I see what we as people have in common, instead of our differences.
There is so much subtle commentary within this book to ponder that I’m finding it difficult to unpack and lay out for you all. Part of me wants to just say, “Go read this book. Just trust me on this one,” but then I wouldn’t be doing my job as a book blogger, would I?
Depicted much more clearly here than in any of our reads so far is how detrimental a society based upon racism is for all involved. There is not a single happy story contained here. Everyone’s lives are ruined from the master all the way down to the smallest slave girl. It is a circle of misery begetting misery begetting misery.
Homer was the mistress’ personal slave and many of the evil things that happen to her was because the mistress was so miserable that she make it her mission to make everybody round her miserable as well. (page 415)
Nobody is happy. Everyone lives in misery and fear. The whites are afraid of a black revolt. The blacks are afraid of being whipped or hung. Everyone is afraid of Obeah (an evil witchcraft similar to voodoo). People start to lash out at each other in an attempt to better themselves. For instance, the Johnny-jumpers are male slaves who are pseudo-overseers given power over the other slaves to beat them. It is simply a system exploiting everyone and for what? From the book it appears to be to maintain Britain’s position of power in the world. The system is evil, and it does not simply beget misery, but despair as well. It brings out the worst in everyone.
A strong theme in this book is that of race being a construct rather than an innate true difference in people. Since Lilith is bi-racial, she has trouble simply aligning herself with one side or the other. Although at first she hates white people, she comes to deeply care for a white man. She comes to see people as individuals and not their race, but alas that thought process is far too advanced for the time she is living in, and she senses this.
She not black, she mulatto. Mulatto, mulatto, mulatto. Maybe she be family to both and to hurt white man just as bad as hurting black man…..Maybe if she start to think that she not black or white, then she won’t have to care about neither man’s affairs. Maybe if she don’t care what other people think she be and start think about what she think she be, maybe she can rise over backra and nigger business, since neither ever mean her any good. Since the blood that run through her both black and white, maybe she be her own thing. But what thing she be? (page 277-8)
It’s impossible not to have your heart break for Lilith, a woman whose whole life revolves around race when all she ever wants is to feel happy and safe, an impossible dream represented for her by a picture from a child’s book that her foster slave father let her take from him. The picture is of a sleeping princess with a prince near her, and Lilith’s obsession with this image follows her throughout her life, until she finally tells herself:
She not no fool, Lilith tell herself. She not a sleeping princess and Robert Quinn is not no king or prince. He just a man with broad shoulders and black hair who call her lovey and she like that more than her own name. She don’t want the man to deliver her, she just want to climb in the bed and feel he wrap himself around her. (page 335)
I found myself wishing I could scoop Lilith and Robert up and place them on an island where they could just be together and raise their mixed race babies and just be happy, but that’s not what happened then, and that’s the dream we must keep fighting for, isn’t it? A world where people can just love each other and be happy and not be forced into misery for economic gain of a person or a business or a nation.
I know it sounds like wishful thinking, but that’s really what I got out of this book. If we don’t want to live in a world that dark, we must embrace love in all its forms. Love begets love, but hate begets hate. Don’t like corporate greed or nationalism overtake your capacity to see the humanity in everyone–the capability for powerful good or powerful evil present in us all. Perhaps this is a bit off-topic for The Real Help Reading Project, but that is the old passion from a youthful me in undergraduate classes that this book reignited, and that is what makes me want everyone to read it.
Source: Public Library
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Please head over to Amy’s post to discuss this book!