[identity profile] wordsofastory.livejournal.com
2. Sarita Mandanna, Tiger Hills

Devi is a beautiful, strong-willed young girl, growing up in Coorg, a rural, mountainous area of South India, in the late 1800s. She's in love with Machu, a warrior famous for having killed a tiger single-handedly. Devanna, Machu's younger cousin, is a quiet, intelligent boy, studying to be a doctor, who's in love with Devi. As you might expect, things don't turn out well.

This novel has some beautiful descriptions of scenery (apparently Coorg- spelled Kodagu today- is known as 'the Scotland of India'), but the plot is a bit over-the-top, with tragedy following tragedy. I enjoyed reading to pass the time on a long bus trip, but I'm not sure I can genuinely recommend it, unless you're looking for something to read that won't require a lot of thought.
[identity profile] jinian.livejournal.com
Despite the usual YA book-cover problem, I just bought a book with a young black woman on the cover, and she really is a character of color! The book is The Agency: A Spy in the House, by Y.S. Lee, and my further comments about the character's race are minor spoilers.

Read more... )

Overall, I liked the book. As the author says, having an academy for disadvantaged girls and a secret organization of women spies are good wish-fulfillment to combat the knowledge of the actual crummy roles available to women in the Victorian era, and if the romance wasn't all that believable the preponderance of female characters, their variety of relationships, and their story-driving agency outweighed that for me quite thoroughly.
[identity profile] seekingferret.livejournal.com
38.The Intuitionist by Colson Whitehead

Really, it's a chilly, well-crafted book about progress. It's a book that is practically a single, unmixed metaphor about progress. Is progress good or bad? Does progress move forward or backward? Is progress about technology or is it about people? But Whitehead never says the word 'progress'. He uses the phrase "black box", a triumphant insight on his part because it communicates two simultaneous ideas: one, that progress is about moving toward a future point that is presently unknowable and two, that at present any rational definition of American progress is going to have to focus on improving the lives of black Americans.

Our protagonist, Lila, is the first "colored" (edit: colored female, rather) elevator inspector in city history. Whitehead plays with the surface level significance of that, with her struggles for recognition in the department, with the hidden suffering of the previous "colored" inspectors, with the almost circumstantial torment of watching her colleagues put on a minstrel show. Underneath, he shows her questing for the "black box", the perfect elevator that only her Intuitionist beliefs can lead her to. But Intuitionism is a joke, a stupid fiction (It's significant, I think, that Intuitionism is validated Empirically by the fact that its inspectors are more accurate. Intuitionism is about secretly rebelling against being captive to a broken system). And progress is both its own means and ends. Lila, like Fulton before her, can push the elevator inspectors forward, but whether or not they'll resist is not up to her, but to bigger forces beyond her control.

Which is a scary, big idea. The Intuitionist is good at making scary, big ideas seem small and manageable.



39.The Conjure Woman by Charles W. Chesnutt

Now that I have a Nook, I'm looking to read more ebooks. This has led me to Project Gutenberg and its African-American Authors bookshelf, which is where I found this story collection. It comes highly recommended.

A collection of late 19th century short stories by Chesnutt, they are narrated by an Ohio carpetbagger who has bought a North Carolina vineyard and describe the folk tales that the carpetbagger's ex-slave coachmen tells about plantation witchcraft. Cannily written, you have to look twice to see that these aren't the gentle, humorous folktales they initially look like but rather grim stories about the horrors of slave life. Littered among the colorful conjurers, people turned into animals, and other fantastical details are stories of families broken up because an owner loses a slave in a bet, women forced to marry men they don't want to, slaves unreasonably punished for minor offenses, disease, and pain.

The coachman, and consequently the majority of the stories, speaks in "plantation dialect". This is, needless to say, problematic. It certainly has the potential to reinforce stereotypes. On the other hand, since the stories function as critique of the more uncritical Uncle Remus stories, the use of dialect serves as coded signal about the genre the stories are situating themselves within. These are stories, in short, that demand a critically engaged reader.

The frames are often relatively thin, but they're not pointless. Chesnutt uses his framing story to offer commentary and context to the folk tales, as well as to develop all of the characters in the frame. His frames often point out problems with his folk tales, or suggest that the narrator's perspective is compromised.

tags: a:chesnutt charles w., a: whitehead colson
[identity profile] wordsofastory.livejournal.com
3. Dolen Perkins-Valdez, Wench

Whew, this is a depressing book. But well worth reading; the characters are all very believable and engaging, and the situation is compelling. It's a novel, but one based on a real-life situation: Tawawa House, a popular summer resort in the early and middle 1800s, located in Ohio but frequented by rich men from southern states. The story focuses on four black women, all slaves, and all brought by their owners to Tawawa House over repeated summers. Because, see, Tawawa House has a particular reason for being popular: it's a place where slave-owners can bring their black mistresses, leaving their wives behind.

This is a hard book to describe, because there's not much of a plot; most of what changes over the course of the novel is the slow shifts in Lizzy's (the main character) attitude toward her life and the other people in it. Wench is excellent at describing the tangled situation she and the other women find themselves in, their feelings about each other, other people back home on their plantations, and finding themselves in Ohio- a free state- while still being a slave. Each of the four women has differing attitudes towards their men, ranging from Lizzy (the main character), who really believes her owner loves her and her children, to Mawu, who would kill her owner given the chance. Lizzy's efforts to make a better life for her children shape her character and result in some of the most heart-breaking scenes in the book, while her time in Ohio tempts her to leave them behind and make an escape attempt.

Not a fun book, but an excellent one. I recommend it.
[identity profile] wordsofastory.livejournal.com
32. Geling Yan, The Lost Daughter of Happiness, translated by Cathy Silber

This novel is about a real historical figure, Fusang, a Chinese woman who was a prostitute in San Fransisco in the late 1800s. Although the narration focuses on Fusang and her relationship with others, particularly Chris- a young white boy from a German merchant family in love with Fusang- and Da Yong- a Chinese gangster who is influential in Fusang's life- Fusang herself ultimately remains a blank. She's never given motivations, inner dialogue, or even much emotion. And this is deliberate. The narrator- who, as a Chinese writer living in America in the modern day, may or may not be the voice of the author herself- often breaks into the story, explaining the impossibility of truly knowing another person, especially when that other person is a historical figure with only brief mentions in texts. At other times, the narrator speaks directly to Fusang, asking her to move a certain way or to reply to a question. I found this distancing effect to be really intriguing, but in other reviews people seem to have been annoyed by it, so your mileage may vary.

The language is beautiful and vivid; the plot is compelling. The novel explores racism, sexism, and violence, often explicitly linking events of the historical period depicted to the modern day. Highly recommended.
[identity profile] whereweather.livejournal.com
[Note: Tags I would like to add, when it eventually becomes possible: a: hernandez lea, i: hernandez lea, steampunk.]

#20.  Cathedral Child, Lea Hernandez
Cyberosia Publishing, 2002 (?)

Cathedral Child
is a very curious graphic novel of somewhat confusing provenance.  It is also, I think, unfinished.  I gather that it was meant to be the first volume of a series that Hernandez called "Texas Steampunk Trilogy," but there were a long series of delays in publishing the book and I don't think the second and third volumes were ever produced.

Which is a pity, because Cathedral Child is full of interesting ideas, and has a unique sensibility and a lot of heart.  The ending is very confusing to me, but I don't know how much of that comes from its being supposed to continue on later, or perhaps from the artist having been obliged to cram some extra plot points in where they hadn't been planned.  (Babylon 5 season four, anyone?)

So anyway, I can fault this book on several counts of clarity and pacing. On the other hand, conceptually it is fantastic.  It is set in nineteenth-century West Texas, where a white engineer, Nikola (I see what you did there!), and his investor/partner, Stuart, have set up shop to build an "analytical engine," which in this setting seems to mean an AI. 

They are building their AI inside a mission-style Spanish church, which is referred to as Cathedral, and the "machinists" and "tutors" -- who do the work of teaching and training the young artificial intelligence --  come from among the ranks of the so-called natives, who seem to be Hispanicized Indians.  (This is not entirely clear to me, but on the other hand I am not entirely clear on the distinction between "Hispanicized Indians" and the people we now call Mexicans, so maybe that means I have to do some more research myself.)   In any case, they are brown people, with Spanish names.  And there are really not nearly enough representations of brown people with Spanish names in steampunk at all, much less drawn in a manga-influenced American style, so even if it were just for this I applaud Lea Hernandez a lot.

I won't summarize the whole story here -- I guess I should just recommend reading it yourself, if it seems interesting to you.  I do admit I find the book somewhat confusing.  Some of the story concepts aren't as clearly brought through as they should have been, and I think that unclearness resides both in the storytelling and in the artwork.  On the other hand, I like many of the characters, and some of the ideas are just sublime.  It's really too bad the trilogy seems never to have been finished.

(Also: this book, and its writer, raise a "Who's P.O.C.?" question for me.  Is Lea Hernandez a writer/artist of color?  I am assuming, from her name, her place of origin, and -- here's where it gets really tricky -- from the content of her work, that she is Hispanic, and probably Mexican American.  But does that mean she's necessarily a person of color?  I don't know.  All the (smallish) photos of her I've been able to find online show her with blonde hair.  But I don't know if that means anything; many Mexicans have blonde hair... So here I am, including her, but without really knowing.  For all I know, I could be wrongly assuming.  And we all know what assuming does.  I could be making a ming out of my ass.)
[identity profile] chipmunk-planet.livejournal.com
This is an autobiography by the first president of Tuskegee University (called then Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute), Booker T. Washington. Born to a slave woman in Alabama and an unknown white man, he was emancipated at the end of the Civil War along with the rest of the slaves there, taking the last name of Washington the first time he went to school, when he was about ten or so. The book chronicles his journey from dirt poor to a man known internationally for his work.

There are a few things that strike me about this book: foremost, how 19th century Washington's writing style is. He thinks and speaks as a man of his day, which makes sense, but it's a bit jarring to hear him compare the "barbarous" red man to the black man who "chose life and civilization to extinction". (he actually used this analogy many times in his speeches to prove that blacks were better suited to be part of Reconstruction, joining forces with whites to rebuild the South)

The other thing that you can't fail to miss is the man's humble and cheerful attitude. He has very little in the way of negative to say about anyone, although at the end of the book he does mention times where people ignored him then later contributed to his work as the school grew. Washington's core belief seems to be that his hardships built character, and that through hard work and perseverance anyone could succeed.

He insisted that every one of his students, no matter how well-off, work at the school. The students built the school; they provided their own food, clothing, equipment, and many returned after graduation to teach as well. He himself spent most of his waking time working at the school, making speeches to raise money for the school, writing letters in support of black civil rights (even in other states, and on his vacation!), and networking with prominent white leaders. He visited several Presidents and William McKinley came to visit Tuskegee, the first time a sitting President had visited a black university. Washington also received an honorary degree from Harvard, another first.

Later in his life, he clashed with some of the other black leaders, particularly the religious leaders (and the influential W.E.B. DuBois), for his tell-it-like-it-is assessment of the condition of black America. Washington's view was that only by blacks being prosperous and useful to the country would racial tension be resolved, and that forcing social and political equality prematurely would only lead to a backlash from the majority white populace. He felt that help to blacks should come in the form of promoting both industrial and liberal arts education, because he felt everyone should know how to work with his or her hands (the university took men and women from its inception), and that it was more costly not to educate someone than to do so, both black and white.

He died in 1915 (I've seen several possible causes listed, but he had extreme high blood pressure and possibly a heart condition, and refused to stop working), outliving two wives and being survived by a third, along with many children and grandchildren.

I found this book very interesting and would highly recommend it.
[identity profile] wordsofastory.livejournal.com
22. Beverly Jenkins, Wild Sweet Love

Teresa, a train-robbing, bank-robbing, horse-riding, leather-wearing, genuine Wild West outlaw, is finally captured by the police and sentenced to jail. She gets out early on good behavior, under the condition that she does well in a rehabilitation program that requires her to live with a volunteer. Teresa is assigned to Molly Nance, a wealthy woman who decides to teach Teresa how to be a lady. Meanwhile, Molly's son, Madison- a ex-gambler turned banker- and Teresa begin to realize that all their constant bickering has more to do with sexual tension than dislike.

This book is probably the first real "romance novel" I've ever read*, and though it didn't match up to my preconceived notions in a lot of ways, I don't know if that's because this is a unusual example of the genre, because I had misguided stereotypes in the first place, or because this book has an African-American author and characters. Or all three.

I really enjoyed reading this. Many of the negative impressions I had of the romance genre were not in this book- the heroine wasn't a virgin, she and the hero were equally matched physically (they both get into and win fist-fights, at different points in the plot, for example, and even the mom got to knock out a bad guy at one point), the plot was not driven by silly misunderstandings or anyone needing to be rescued (instead there's a believable uncertainty about what kind of relationship they want to have). I liked that there were various elements of politics in the book- the hero attends an anti-lynching convention at one point, while Teresa and Molly have a discussion about different black political movements. This is a very minor detail in the book, but I appreciated its existence.

Overall, this was just a fun book. The writing wasn't amazing, but it was perfectly serviceable, and I liked the understanding between the main characters. I recommend it.


* Though I do adore Georgette Heyer, and have read tons of her books, she's not really useful as an example of the tropes and themes of the modern Romance publishing industry.
[identity profile] whereweather.livejournal.com
#10.  Kindred, Octavia Butler.
1979

Okay, I am about the fiftieth person to read this book in this community, and the sixth or seventh to post about it TODAY.  Which makes me feel as if an in-depth review would be... unnecessary?  Redundant?  I will, nonetheless, try to write briefly about what I myself took away from it. 

A brief summary: Dana, who is black, is a feminist and a writer.  It is 1976, and she has just moved with her husband of not-very-long, Kevin (who is white), to a their first house together in Los Angeles.  By mechanisms unknown to her, she finds herself unwillingly pulled back into the past, for the presumable purpose --  she quickly figures out -- of saving Rufus, a young white boy who will become the master of his father's Maryland plantation, and keeping him alive long enough to father the child who will become Dana's ancestor.  But that means Dana has to live -- and  try to keep her body, integrity, and sense of self intact, in a society in which blacks are property, women are treated like children, and she has no legal or personal rights at all.

Butler calls this book a "grim fantasy," which seems correct, in that it's certainly not science fiction.  The mechanism of time travel is not really important here; what matters are its consequences.  I find Butler's writing very immediate, and although she is not a particularly lyrical or elegant stylist, her calm, tough, clear prose works very well to keep the story moving, to illuminate character and to draw the reader into the questions she is most interested in addressing: those of assumptions; of ambiguous ethical questions; of painful choices which genuinely -- unlike in most fiction -- have no obvious right answer.

A couple of interesting, and illuminating, quotes from the book's Wikipedia page:

"I was trying to get people to feel slavery," Butler said in a 2004 interview. "I was trying to get across the kind of emotional and psychological stones that slavery threw at people." In another interview, she said, "I think people really need to think what it's like to have all of society arrayed against you."

The book is set on Maryland's Eastern Shore. Butler said she chose the setting "because I wanted my character to have a legitimate hope of escape," and because two famous African-Americans, Frederick Douglass and Harriet Tubman, had been enslaved there.

ext_3152: Cartoon face of badgerbag with her tongue sticking out and little lines of excitedness radiating. (brains)
[identity profile] badgerbag.livejournal.com
A while ago I was looking something up on blackpast.com and started browsing their encyclopedia of biographies. Came across Octavia Victoria Rogers Albert and ended up ordering her book, The House of Bondage, or, Charlotte Brooks and Other Slaves, first published in 1890.



Rogers tells the stories of her neighbors and friends who came out from under slavery in the Southern U.S. She adds in commentary and some interviewing. The prefaces and introductions alone are enough reason to buy this awesome book as they list out books by black women in the 1800s and explain the thought behind this book series - The Schomburg Library of Nineteenth Century Black Women Writers. Here is a great place to start with some narratives of life on Louisiana plantations, of preaching Protestant sermons and hymns against orders from Catholic masters, of later reuniting & proud parents crying as their sons and daughters graduate from college... Very intense.

The entire Schomburg Library series looks good. They're small pocket books and nicely bound & printed.

I recommend you add to this: "A Voice from the South" by Anna Julia Cooper, which explains intersectionality of gender, and race so well and, fuck, she quotes Madame de Stael and just generally rocks. And "The Value of Race Literature" by Victoria Earle Matthews.

They go well together!

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