Love in the Library

 

Until I went to grab a copy of the cover of the book online, I'd forgotten why I'd requested Love in the Library by Maggie Tokuda-Hall from the library. Love in the Library is based on the true story of the author's grandparents meeting and falling in love while in a Japanese internment camp where her grandmother was the librarian. This is a very short picture book and there's not much meat to it. I will always view picture books within the context of a fifth grade classroom. I taught about Japanese internment when I taught fifth grade and this is not a book that I would have shared with my class. There was nothing to it. The only substance was in the author's note at the end. I also wondered why the illustrations didn't have the characters, Tama and George, looking Japanese. (And hey, would I even be allowed to teach about Japanese internment these days? And how disturbing is that!)

Here's the author's blog that will fill you in on the situation much better than I can. But in a nutshell, Tokuda-Hall wrote the author's note that I read in my library copy. Remember, thta's the only bit of the book that I felt had any substance. Scholastic had offered to license her book. BUT... they wanted the author's note edited - to remove all the substanitative writing from it - to ... to what? Make it less offensive? Offensive to whom? Make it less likely to be banned? Are publishers thinking that way? This is why I read this simple picture book and why I think you should, too.

Why shouldn't young children learn about Japanese internment camps? Why shouldn't young children learn about the crisis at our southern border? We're not talking kindergartners here. We're talking about older elementary school children who have a right to learn the true history of our country. A good teacher knows how to frame such a book. A racist parent does not. Which is why the racist parent takes offense. 

The more I think about this, the angrier I become. I guess I'm glad that I read this book, if only to be more familiar with the conflict with Scholastic. Book banning terrifies me. It should bother you, too.

The Violin Conspiracy

 Brenda Slocumb is the author of the autobiographical fiction, The Violin Conspiracy. Fictional Ray loves playing the fiddle, much to his mother's consternation. She'd like nothing more than for Ray to get a job at a hospital cafeteria making minimum wage, helping to support the family. Ray, however, has a dream to be a professional musician. The only one who supports him in this dream is his grandmother.

His grandmother gifts him her grandfather's beat-up fiddle which turns out to be a priceless Stradivarius! Ray was a talented violinist but knowing that this the violin his grandfather played gives him a special spark. 

Ray is recruited to attend college on a music scholarship by a professor who does all she can to show him that his dream makes sense. She helps him conquer the racism that beleaguers the music world. Ray - and his Strad - take the music world by storm.

He's all set to compete in the Tchaikovsky Competition, the Olympics of classical music, when his violin is stolen from his case, with a ransom note - and a sneaker - in it's place. Ray suspects either his family - or the family that owned his great-great-grandfather when great-great-grandfather was a slave. But could it be someone else?

Slocumb cleverly knits the story together, taking us back in time. Will Ray every find his violin?

The novel allowed me to explore things I'd never thought of before, mostly involving race and being a musician as a career. I never really warmed up to Ray as a character, though. Is that why I only gave this one 3-stars on goodreads? Perhaps.

Horse

I'm a big Geraldine Brooks fan. In the past (pre-dating this blog), I've enjoyed her novels: Year of Wonders, March, People of the Book, and Caleb's Crossing as well as her memoir, Foreign Correspondence: A Pen Pals Journey from Down Under to All Over. When her latest, Horse, was released, I was in no rush to read it. Even after I kept seeing recommendation after recommendation. I mean... I don't love horses. Even after I heard it was about so much more than just horses, I wasn't getting my name on library waitlists. Until I finally took the plunge. After waiting about 16 weeks, the book became available.

I had a hard time getting into Horse. There were three timelines told from multiple perspectives. Some chapters were short, some were very long. But the novel did capture my attention early on. I wanted to learn what happened to Jarret, Darley (later Lexington), Jess and Theo. So kept on reading.

The book is too complex for me to give you a synopsis. Check out goodreads or the publisher's website for that. There were so many themes. Art. Thoroughbred breeding and racing. Slavery. Racism. Self-discovery.

Brooks excels at developing all the characters, not just the main characters, so you really do care about each one, even if you don't like them and it's only to care about what happens to them.

After reading two books dealing with serious racism, I think I need a break. Maybe it's time to read a rom-com?

Winter's Reckoning

A member of my Books & Beer Club has a friend who wrote a book, she's going to be in Florida in February. "How about if we pick this for our February book?" I didn't hold out much hope, but sure, I love to meet with authors and so I was totally game. Even better when I was able to get an e-book of Winter's Reckoning: A Novel by Adele Holmes from the library.

Wow! What a book. It never would have crossed my radar if not for this book group. It's a novel about the power of women during a time when the races were still being separated in nearly every single way. Jim Crow was very much alive in Jamesville.

Maddie, a Yankee, is a healer in a dying southern Appalachian town in the early 1900s. Her husband who was always accepting of Maddie's open mindedness, unlike most of the rest of the town. Maddie is training two other young women to become healers, too: Ren Morgan, a black woman, and her granddaughter, Hannah. Most of the town can't stand the close friendship between Maddie and Ren.

A new church reverend comes to town. He preaches about the importance of the separation of the races. The KKK which had been quiet in Jamesville comes back full force, threatening Maddie, Ren, and many others who fall within their orbits.

The book was engaging from start to finish. It was a very powerful story that I've recommended on Renee's Reading Club on Facebook. I was so looking forward to meeting Adele Holmes and discussing the novel. Life happens. I have the opportunity to visit my daughter out of town on book club night. I can't pass up a chance to see my daughter and to stay in her new house. Still, I'm sad that I won't be at my next Books & Beer Club meeting.

Joshua: A Brooklyn Tale

How Joshua: A Brooklyn Tale wasn't on my radar until recently is beyond me. I read about it recently in an email from the Jewish Book Council. Andrew Kane's novel is such a powerful read.

This story which spans about 40 years centers on Joshua, Paul and Rachel, three individuals whose lives intersect repeatedly over the time period covered in the book.

From the blurb: Joshua: A Brooklyn Tale views four decades through three lives. Andrew Kane's novel is a love story about loneliness, a reflection on the value of community that acknowledges that it takes a village to raise a mob, a tale of public dysfunction and personal demons, and an image of the frail beauty of humanity that somehow survives.

Themes in the book include religious identity, fanaticism, racism, segregation, women's roles, opportunity, and the bonds of friendship. There's romance, eating disorders and parental expectations.

Joshua is a young black boy when his mother moves him from Bed-Stuy to Crown Heights in an effort to increase his opportunities in life. Paul is a secular Jew living on Long Island with his assimilated parents who is exposed to Hasidic Judaism when he trains for his Bar Mitzvah with a rabbi from Crown Heights. Rachel is the rabbi's daughter.

I grew up in Brooklyn so was able to picture some of what was described in the book. There are also historical events that are fictionalized - somewhat - and I recall several of those as well. The book culminates with the Crown Heights riots in 1991 and sadly, much has not changed in those 30-plus years.

I highly recommend Joshua: A Brooklyn Tale and think it would make a great choice for my synagogue book club. We just selected a different book for our October book, but I might suggest this for our January title.

 

The Personal Librarian

Having grown up and lived in and around NY for most of my life, I'd heard of the Pierpont Morgan Library and was familiar with stories about JP Morgan. I was, however, totally unfamiliar with the story of JP Morgan's personal librarian. But apparently so were many other people.

Marie Benedict had the idea for The Personal Librarian but felt that a white woman would have trouble doing justice to the story of black Belle da Costa Greene. Her agent found her Victoria Christopher Murray to work as her co-author. The story about their partnership in the authors' notes at the end of the novel was very interesting.

JP Morgan was a financier and collector. He hired a librarian away from Princeton University on the recommendation of his nephew, Junius, to help him curate his collection.

Belle da Costa Greene was a woman working in a high powered position in the early years of  the 20th century. She had extensive knowledge, impeccable taste and was a shrewd negotiator. But Greene also had a secret. Her name at birth was Belle Marion Greener and she is the daughter of "colored" civil rights activist, Richard Greener. As difficult as it was for Belle to hold this position as a woman, she never would have been able to hold this position had anyone, most especially JP Morgan, known that she was a "colored" woman.

Belle's parents were up and coming in the 1870s. Richard Greener was the first colored person to graduate from Harvard College. He went on to graduate school and was teaching at the University of South Carolina when the Civil Rights Act of 1875 was overturned in 1883. The couple and their one child moved to the family home of Belle's mother. Eventually they moved to NYC with their enlarged family because they sensed that racial discrimination in the south and in Washington, DC was going to get worse than it was. Belle's mother decided that the only chance her children had for a future was to pass as white. Belle's father who had built his career on advocating for the rights of blacks was unable to go along with this way of life. The parents separated. Belle's, her mother and her siblings changed their last name and hinted towards Portuguese in their lineage to account for their olive skin coloring.

The book had two big story lines. One was about Belle's rise as JP Morgan's personal librarian and the building of his world class collection. The other was about Belle's life as a colored woman living as a white woman. At first I thought that Belle, who tells the story in first person, harped a lot on her secret. Until I realized how huge it must have been for a colored woman to live as a white woman. It was and is something that I can't imagine. This aspect of the novel gave me lots to think about.

There were other subplots focusing on women's suffrage, anti-Semitism, and the whole upper class art scene. Readers of historical fiction and those who enjoy reading about women who were ahead of their times will enjoy The Personal Librarian.

Now I need to remember that I'd  like to see the library the next time I'm visiting New York City, whenever that might be.

Color Me In

I saw this young adult novel recommended on an email from the Jewish Book Council. I thought after the "weightiness" of The Weight of Ink, something more contemporary and shorter might be appreciated for our next synagogue book club meeting. Now that I've read it, even though I enjoyed it, I'm not sure if it's the best choice for this particular book club.

Color Me In is the coming of age story of a 16-year old Nevaeh Levitz. Growing up in an affluent NYC suburb, attending a prestigious private school in Riverdale, Nevaeh never considered her bi-racial roots beyond feeling like she didn’t really “fit in” with her peers. She never even really considered that her very best friend, Stevie, is also bi-racial and facing some of the prejudice that she is able to avoid.

When Nevaeh’s Black mom and White Jewish dad split up, Nevaeh and her mom move in with the mom’s family in Harlem. At the same time, her dad decides that even though Nevaeh is past Bat Mitzvah age, this is a ritual he wishes her to partake in. Now Nevaeh is really forced to come to terms with who she is.

Nevaeh develops a relationship with non-traditional Rabbi Sara while preparing for her Bat Mitzvah. For the sake of the synagogue book club, I wish that this part of the storyline had been more developed. Much more of the story is about Navaeh's realizations of how much easier her life has been because she can pass for White. Thinking outside of just the book club, I really did appreciate the way that Diaz dealt with many of the race issues. 

I also really liked that Color Me In was not predictable. I had a preconceived notion of how the novel would end and it did not end that way.

For the next two months, I will keep my fingers crossed that the members of the book club will have some appreciation for this young adult fiction since I was the one to recommend it.

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian

Books & Beer Club reads a banned book each September for Banned Book Week. A few of the classics were selected, but I threw out The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie because that was the banned book that several in my little book club were planning to read for our October meeting observing Banned Book Week. I wanted to read True Diary, but I'd already read and selected The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison as my banned book for October. Figured I could do double duty... True Diary has such awesome reviews.

Then why is it banned? There's profanity, alcoholism, sexuality and violence. I still don't understand what makes those things ban-worthy. This novel is autobiographical, using most characters who are composites of people the author grew up with, and I'll bet it comes very close to reflecting the life of a Native American, an Indian, coming of age in the 1990s on a reservation in Washington State. The author is an Indian and was raised on the reservation.

Junior - or Arnold - comes from a loving family. He lives with his alcoholic father, his mother, his grandmother and his older sister, Mary. If they have nothing else, they have love. And they have each other. Junior was born with health problems and as such, he's the target of many of the bullies on the reservation. The kid bullies - and some adult bullies. Junior is also smarter and more curious than probably all the people on the reservation. He's a reader. A real book lover. Junior's best friend is Rowdy whose home life is not nearly as loving or peaceful. Rowdy is one angry kid, but he's Junior's devoted protector.

The Diary covers Arnold's first year in high school. He starts at the school on the reservation, but after an incident happens on the first day, he transfers to the white high school 22 miles away from where Arnold lives. He works to be accepted at his new school and to still feel a part of the reservation. It's not as easy as one might imagine.

The book is engaging from the start. It's a novel about some pretty heavy, serious stuff but written in a lighthearted humorous manner that makes it easier to read, although that doesn't diminish the seriousness of what Alexie is sharing. Big themes in the novel are bullying, racism, alcoholism, grief, and the meaning of friendships and family. There's also a far share of teenage angst. After all, Arnold is 14-years old.

Junior is also a cartoonist. That's how he handles much of what churns through his mind. Junior's cartoon creations are excellently brought to the pages of The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Ellen Forney who somehow gets into Junior's brain as she puts marker to paper. Markers are not her usual medium but they were most probably Junior's. The cartoons come off as being very authentic.

I hope the Books & Beer folks enjoy the book as much as I did. There's certainly a lot to talk about.

The Nickel Boys

 

I don't even know where to begin with writing about Colson Whitehead's The Nickel Boys. What a powerful read.

I read Whitehead's previous novel, The Underground Railroad, back in July of this year. I enjoyed that one, although am still not sure how I feel about some of the fantastical aspects of the novel.

The Nickel Boys is different. It's based on the true story of The Dozier School for Boys, a boys' reform school in northern Florida that was in existence for over 100 years. The two things that struck me most about  this book were my familiarity with the discovery for unmarked graves of students on school property in 2011, the year after I moved to Florida. The other thing that brought me to pause was following the Derek Chauvin murder trial, for the killing of George Floyd last May, at the same time.

Elwood Curtis lived with his grandmother in Tallahassee, Florida in the early 1960s. He was an inquisitive boy and tried to stick to the straight and narrow. He received an album of Martin Luther King Jr.'s speeches which became a treasured possession. In high school, he got involved with the Civil Rights movement. He develops a relationship with one of his teachers who makes it possible for Elwood to attend a black college on the outskirts of Tallahassee while  he's still in his senior year of high school. Because the college is  on the outskirts of  town, Elwood needs to hitchhike to get to the college. He gets picked up by a Packard which turns out to be a stolen car. As a punishment for "his crime," Elwood is sent to The Nickel Academy.

The Nickel Academy is open to both black and white boys, but it is very much segregated. We are led to believe that the experiences of the white boys versus that of the black boys is very different. Elwood, as a black "student," gets punished early on and winds up in the hospital. After that, he's a bit more careful. Until he decides that he needs to take a stand against the injustices against others that he observes during his time at the reform school. 

Living in Florida has been eye opening to me. I was raised in NYC and while I'm sure everyone was not treated equally or fairly, the racism wasn't as blatant as it is in the south. In 2011 when the story of The Dozier School broke, I had a hard time something so horrible could be happening "in this day and age" so close to where I was living. One of the characters in the novel, Millie, was raised in NYC and she has a hard time coming to terms with what "Elwood" has experienced.

This week, though, listening to the Derek Chauvin murder trial, I can't help but wonder about the lack of progress we, as a nation, have made over the past 60 years in terms of civil rights. We haven't come far at all. We have a very long way to go.

I would highly recommend  this griping, spare, raw novel.

Small Great Things by Jodi Picoult

I seem to think that readers of contemporary fiction either love Jodi Picoult or hate Jodi Picoult. I am a fan... and that might color the way I read and review her novels. Jodi Picoult takes contemporary issues (in this case it's race) that she takes from real news sources. She expands them into a fictionalized version of their earlier selves, tells the story from many different points of view. There's a trial. And there's a twist. It's her formula and it works really well. At least I think so.

Small Great Things was no different. But unlike many of her other books, this one was so incredibly thought provoking and one that will stick with me a long time. It made me rethink my views on race in America, something I will continue to ponder over. Prior to reading the book, I thought I knew how I felt. Now I'm not so sure.

The story centers on Ruth, a black nurse in a Connecticut hospital, who is forbidden to care for a newborn baby, Davis. Davis, named after Confederate president, Jefferson Davis, is the son of white supremacists, Turk and Brittany. When Ruth is conveniently the only medical staff person around when Davis starts seizing, stops breathing and dies, she becomes the easy target to blame for Davis' death.  Ruth gets arrested, her public defender is Kennedy, the character in the story that I most related to. Like me, Kennedy thought she knew how she felt about races and racism. Like me, Kennedy had to rethink a whole lot of things. Things like white privilege. I knew it was there... but never really thought about it much, just because, well, it was...

The character that I found most fascinating was Turk. He was the window to learn about different groups of white racists. It was unsettling for the most part but it made me understand that the different groups feel differently about the races and their ways of making things right (in their) worlds can be quite different. I don't know that the differences will really stick with me but the quality of the hate and the anger, that will remain with me a long time. It also gave me insight into some of the racial tensions that I see brewing around me. A usual history and current events lesson all rolled into one.

Picoult weaves real life race issues into the novel. There are references to Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner and several others. She even has a fictionalized version of Reverend Al Sharpton.

Some reviewers of Small Great Things found Ruth and her sister, Adisa (previously known as Rachel) as the least believable characters of the novel. They comment that Ruth and Adisa are caricatures of the groups they are meant to represent. I'm not 100% sure about that. Yes, Ruth goes on to get her graduate degree at Yale, to live in a nice neighborhood, to raise one son who is an all-star student in a good high school. Adisa lives in the projects with her five children, although we are reminded that they all had the same father.

Ruth and Rachel were the daughters of single mom, Lou, who worked as a domestic in the home of a wealthy family in Manhattan. They were raised in Harlem. (My one source of serious irritation with the novel was when someone asked Ruth if she was from Manhattan and she said, no, she was from Harlem. Is it my whiteness that has always made me think that Harlem was in Manhattan? Or did Picoult goof here?) Ruth showed academic giftedness at an early age and Lou's employers helped facilitate Ruth's entry and scholarship to be able to attend Dalton, a prestigious private school in good neighborhood. Rachel continued going to her local school up in Harlem. That's when the sisters begin to drift apart, inhabiting totally different worlds. Ruth becomes closer to Lou's employer's daughter, Christina, than she is to her own sister.

It's Ruth and Christina's relationship that really forces those two characters to think about their differences due to race. Quite interesting thoughts at that.

Another comment I saw in more than one review was that Picoult was clearly writing for a white audience when she wrote this book. She most probably was. But to me, a white woman, it didn't diminish the story or how thought provoking I found the novel.

If you're already a fan of Jodi Picoult, I predict that you are going to love this book. If you're not, you might pick apart the story and the characters, and you might really dislike the novel, but I bet you will start rethinking about your views on race and racism. It was an easy read, even with its heavy subject matter. I was able to finish it in two sittings (on my flight to New York and then finished on the flight home). I've read some good books in 2016, but this one, most likely the final book I'll finish this year, stands out as one of the best.

The banning of books

No stranger to banned books, Judy Blume's young adult
novel, Iggie's House (1970) was banned.

Yes, I've been reading Outlander (#6 A Breath of Snow and Ashes) meaning I have nothing new to review. I feel like that gives me nothing to write about.

I've had some great book talks with my sister-in-law, neighbors and friends with probably a dozen titles added to my "To Be Read" list. Are you following me on goodreads?

Why am I writing about banned books today? Isn't Banned Books month in September? I saw a news story the other day and it's weighing heavily on my mind. After a parent complaint to a school district in Virginia, To Kill A Mockingbird and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn have been temporarily banned. The parent's complaint was that the racial slurs (the language in the books) distressed her mixed-race son.

Just a few months ago, after I read The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn for probably the first time (shocking, I know!), I came across an article debating whether or not the original book in Mark Twain's words should be read or should a book with "nicer language" be read instead. (My commentary here.) At the time, I felt strongly that it was important to read the original with students for all the teachable moments.

Personally, I don't believe in banning books. And I don't understand books being banned in a school setting. I do understand how a parent might not want his or her child to read a book independently that might appear to normalize racism... or sexual assault... or any negative value the parent might not want the child exposed to on his or her own. 

Aren't these books the ones that need to be read and discussed? And yes, discussion is key in the reading of books that might be "uncomfortable."

Do we want to simply give lip service to racism? Is it enough to say "Never use the n-word?" Or do we want our youth to understand the implications. What easier way to give enough exposure for a meaningful discussion than be reading a book.

Racism is real. It exists today. It existed in the time of Scout Finch and Huck Finn. The two books in question might be fiction but each one is based on the realities of the time periods in which the books are set. These stories challenge prejudice. They don't encourage it. They don't suggest it. They don't condone it. Isn't fiction a great starting point for discussions about icky subjects? And isn't it important to learn lessons from the past so that maybe the future can be a brighter, more peaceful, less hateful time?