I was suspicious of this small book. The slang title seemed contrived to me. So did the optimism.
I was wrong.
Even the cover is thought-provoking –
Are those hands up as in “Hands Up, Don’t Shoot”? Or are they calming hands telling us, as two different people do in this book, that “we gon’ be alright”?
Of all of the essays in the collection, only two disappoint. Oddly, one is Chang’s most personal one “The In-Betweens,” however much he distances himself from it by using second person. It comes across as out of place. The other unsuccessful one is “Making Lemonade,” a cursory look at Beyonce’s film. What’s here is fine. One just gets the sense that Chang probably has more to say on this topic. Unfortunately, these two are the last in the collection. Together, they sort of kill the momentum that Chang has developed.
But the rest, notably, “Is Diversity for White People?” and “Hands Up” are incredibly pointed and powerful. They can easily keep company with Coates, Baldwin and the like. “Is Diversity for White People?” (subtitled On Fearmongering, Picture Taking, and Avoidance) rewards re-reading and conversation.
Am I as confident as Chang, particularly when it comes to the apparent success of social media? Probably not. But given the events these days, this one brought me the most hope, no, not hope, but assurance that I’ve felt in a while.
As with even the most tentatively sci-fi of novels, the architecture of this one was a bit confusing for me. But for about 2/3 of the novel, I enjoyed the confusion, the questions it raised about cities – the way we live in them, what we see and don’t see, how we create borders, etc.. Mieville’s understated insights and minimalist prose combined with a hard-boiled detective story made for a compelling narrative. And then, it seems, he had to find a way to end it, and we went catapulting and careening this way and that, with exposition spilling everywhere. Then I just wanted to finish it.
I told the wonderful staff at Mac’s Backs that I was interested in learning more about homelessness (there are two shelters near my new school), and I was handed this book. It is a stunning, thorough and driven account of the evolution of homelessness in the city. While I understand that World War II and even trends in social work were beyond the control of those in charge of the city, there is clear evidence here that the government, together with business leaders, simply and deliberately sought to eliminate the homeless from the city’s landscape, created more homelessness in previously black and working-class neighborhoods and legislated systems of abuse that remain in place today. Voinovich, for example, vowed to get ‘tough on crime’ and his brother was in the prison building business. Another Mayor pushed for more arrests to be made in a particular neighborhood to make it easier to push it into the hands of developers. There were signs of hope, like the Unemployed Council, with its Black Panther-like efforts at creating unity, but there were, like the Panthers, victims of the divide-and-conquer strategy.
A great and necessary book.
This was an entertaining look at the life of the Indians’ player-manager. It’s a bit lightweight at times, and Boudreau can be predictably crotchety and other times, but it is a slice of life look at the way baseball used to work from one of its stars. Along the way, we meet Bill Veeck, Larry Doby and a few other memorable names. We see the Tribe win the 1948 series and a few efforts by Boudreau to extend his career, especially as a manager. The ‘Behind the Mic’ part gets short shrift here. There are very stories here beyond his nervousness about the job and the sudden death of his first broadcasting partner.
Monet has such a distinct and evocative voice that I even enjoyed reading her author’s note. There is a freshness here, not only to the project, which I can’t claim I understood at all times and in all places, but also to the voice. She puts words and images together in ways I’ve not experienced before. The book jacket says it’s an “ode to mothers, daughters, and sisters – the tiny gods who fight to change the world” and I agree. The book’s a tribute, written by one in the know, one who is not intent just on lavishing praise, but of telling it like it is.
Here’s a piece about Monet
Her own site
How to buy the book
If you don’t believe me, believe Angela Y. Davis, Terrance Hayes, Harry Belafonte and Carrie Mae Weems, all of whom who provided blurbs of praise for the back of the book.
There are books you read that prompt you to wonder, “How did the author know how I think?” There are others that you read that prompt you to wonder, “How did the author know about my life?” Rare is the book that does both. Shelter in Place is one such book. From his perfect title to his masterful use of language, Maksik creates a world that resonates with both my interior and exterior life. Though the plot takes place far from where I’ve ever lived (the NW United States), I felt like I was present in the story. Maksik’s narrator, with his careful use of verb tenses, made me think about gender, family, dreams and, in general life, in completely new ways.
I loved Maksik’s earlier novel, A Marker to Measure Drift. This, though, makes the top 10 list. This one was life-changing.
I think the idea of Young Readers Editions of certain books is great. In this case, the version for Young Readers might even be better. It’s not as dense and is definitely much more focused than the original version written with Christina Lamb. That story is much more political one; this version is, appropriately, the memoir of a remarkable teenager. Of course it’s hard to tell whether it’s Malala or Patricia McCormick here, but there is some stylistic flair in this version.
There can be no doubt. Malala is a remarkable person, an inspiration to us all. I look forward to watching and supporting her work in the years to come.
the Malala Fund