LIVity

What a difference a couple of days can make. Just last week, in my last post, I was telling you all how I was reading The Missing Kennedy: Rosemary Kennedy and the Secret Bonds of Four Women by Elizabeth Koehler-Pentacoff. Since then, I've finished the book.

I really wish I could find the news article I read that made me aware of this book, because I'm sure it said it was on a bestseller list.  I say this to say, the book wasn't bad, but the hype surrounding it was deceptive.

Let's start on the very basic level, the title. Yes, the book was about Rosemary Kennedy, but it was written by Koehler-Pentacoff, the much younger niece of Rosemary's caretaker. And yes, I knew this before reading the book, but I was under the assumption that Koehler-Pentacoff would provide better first hand knowledge.  From her story, it appears she did visit with Rosemary at least once a month from a very early age, but the key words here are "from a very early age." Much of her personal experience lacked mature understanding of a complicated situation. 

Koehler-Pentacoff did have access to some personal notes between her aunt, Rosemary's caretaker, and the Kennedy family, but most of her information, seems like it come through visits to the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum and interviews granted by Shriver family members who were not even born when the most intense decisions about Rosemary were being made.

If I'm being fair, this book seemed more like a memoir of the Koehler family with some basic similarities connecting it to the Kennedys and a lot of hypothetical situations dreamt up by Koehler-Pentacoff after a bit of factual information sparked her imagination.

So all that being said, I'm not really sure how to improve the title, but I always like giving bad news first, so I can end on a sweet note.

The best part of this book for me was the last part where Eunice Kennedy Shriver was really brought into the story.  I summarized the book in my last post, but I need to back up to that for this next part to make sense. See, Rosemary had impaired learning, but was functional until Joe Kennedy, her father, approved a lobotomy to improve behavioral issues she was displaying. The sad part is, her outbursts were most likely simply a result of her family not giving her the independence she craved.  At the time, lobotomies were relatively new procedures, so the doctors that performed Rosemary's botched it. Joe Kennedy, at the advice of doctors, decided it best to house Rosemary in medical facilities and not have the family visit as there was fear that disrupting Rosemary's daily routine would upset her too much.  The family didn't know where Rosemary was living until 20 years later, when Joe Kennedy had a stroke and the facility contacted Rose Kennedy, his wife, in regards to Rosemary.  After Rose Kennedy took over Rosemary's affairs, the Kennedy family was once again involved in Rosemary's life. 

And this is where Eunice comes back into the picture.  Her love and interaction with Rosemary inspired her to create a summer camp for special needs youth. This summer camp was not only the first of several more to follow, but it also was the beginning of the Special Olympics and the Shriver-Kennedy's involvement ensuring inclusion of the disabled on a national level.

At the end of the book, there's a quote from Anthony Shriver

She gave us the ability and sense of being needed

And I think that was really the point of this story, how the circles of Rosemary's reach radiated from the inside out to inspire not only her direct family, but a nation. There's no secret in that and maybe that's my issue with the title. Maybe it'd be more appropriate to frame this story as,  'The Missing Kennedy: How Rosemary Kennedy Inspired a Nation."

Until next time...

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, is a little difficult for me to review because I don't want to give too much away. But if I could sum it up in a couple of words, I'd say it's about the effects of living a life of vanity.

Okay, I'll admit it, I had never heard of James Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man until I listened to Talib Kweli's Memories Live
I related to feeling something higher than myself speaking through me and me having to run to find anything I could use to write the message down. So, if that was the definition of an artist, I wanted to read more about others' similar experiences. And after 15 some years, I finally got around to doing that. In my defense, my 'To Read' list is ridiculously long.

Because of the amount of time it took me to get to this book AND the fact that it's considered a classic, I want to give it a glowing review. I really do. But I can't. And maybe I need to accept that the classics are just not for me, but I still feel the need to see what all the hype is about for each of them. *Kanye Shrug*

Where do I start? I loved the depth Joyce gave the main character Stephen Dedalus. What I mean is, he portrayed him as sensitive to the world around him, a deep thinker and someone struggling to find his way in the world before really coming into his own and standing up for his own belief system.

Let me provide a recap of the story so my last statement makes sense: It begins with Dedalus as a young boy who doesn't come from the best background, but who has the opportunity to attend Catholic school. He's a people pleaser and spends his time practically walking around on eggshells in an attempt to ease things such as the discomfort his peers feel about his curious last name or the disbelief the head of his school has about him actually breaking his glasses. He grows from that insecure boy into a young teen whose lack of response to a young, female peer's interest drives him to regularly seek the company of prostitutes. Catholic guilt from that response spins him into a complete 180 and he becomes so devote in his religion, the heads of his school pull him aside and ask him to consider a life as a priest. At this point, he develops his own philosophical theories which he not only freely expounds upon with his friends, but which also convince him to leave his hometown and all its ideals so he can find his own way in life.

So, although areas are exaggerated, I think most artistically inclined people can relate to Dedalus' journey.

What I didn't like was Joyce seemed to be using Dedalus to push his own philosophical agenda a little too hard. It became unbelievable that a young adult would have all these extensive theories and that they were all he and his friends talked about. I'm in my 30s and my friends and I don't even have conversations with the depth these kids were reaching.

Also, probably my biggest problem with this novel was I felt like I was in the mind of an artist. I know that sounds strange, but bear with me. While I was on the writing retreat, one of the underlying themes that kept reaching me was, write so your reader doesn't have to piece together what you're thinking. Because all artists know that our thoughts can be random and scary at times, but it's our responsibility to bring some sort of order to them before sharing.  And as writers, it's easy for us to craft things that sound good, but may not have any real meaning or are so convoluted, the reader gets tired before finishing sorting thoughts out. I felt some of the former and a lot of the latter with this novel. As a result, I ended up skimming through much of it.

For me, the sign of a good book is if it can make me slow down and digest every sentence; when a sentence makes me smile, re-read it multiple times, pull out my pen and underline it. I didn't have any moments like this with A Portrait of the Artist as A Young Man.

When I was on the verge of womanhood, I would read and re-read Proverbs 31 trying to ingrain the traits of being the ideal woman.  The summary to the left is bare bones and doesn't grasp how amazeballs "ideal" is, so check out the full text if you have a moment.  But let's just say, if she existed, she'd be that mom every other mom hated because her life was so daymn perfect lol. She could do it all and she had it all. 

Needless to say, I'd walk away from this text amazed, but also feeling defeated because let's be honest, nobody can ever achieve all of that. And if it looks like someone is, something is probably way off balance in parts of their life that aren't visible.

To make matters worse, Christianity doesn't provide any in depth examples of the inner lives of women, let alone those of the ideal woman . 

And that's why I loved reading The Red Tent.  The author, Anita Diamant, spun an entire story about the women mentioned in passing in the Bible and has Dinah, the daughter of Jacob, as narrator.  So kind of like biblical history told from a female point of view, but more character driven.

Initially, I thought it was a cool concept, made for a great read and so I was just going to add it to my recommended reading page. But then I started thinking about what Diamant really did with this book.  It wasn't preachy, but it showed Dinah and her mother figures encompassing the virtues of ideal, but very real and imperfect women.  Much like myself. I may not get it all or any of it right at any given time, but I try.  I try to be responsible and do that right thing when necessary, but sometimes I just want pure enjoyment.  I honor my family most times, but when it's time to set boundaries for my own well-being, I do that too.  But maybe most importantly, I try to keep faith.  Sometimes I falter and that's okay because everything will work out.

The last thing I'll leave you with is that this book truly celebrates womanhood.  From our hopes, dreams, strengths, weaknesses, pain, happiness, ritual, loving, wisdom, everything that makes us women, it just made me want to walk up to every lady I saw and fist bump them lol We are awesome! Read this book, ladies and then buy a copy for your mom and your best friend so we all can bask in our sisterhood :-)

~ With ♥ from Halima

     

I recently finished reading Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking.  I was really excited to read this book based off of the title alone, but after completing it, can honestly say my socks weren't blown off.

As an introvert, I have spent countless hours inside my own head learning and trying to be true to myself.  So yea this book provided scientific evidence, but it was about stuff I already know and accept or want to change about myself.  Having data to back it didn't make me any more or less likely to do that though.

I'm happy ending kind of lady myself, so now that I've given you the bad news, I can move on to the good news.  The book is broken into four parts and every chapter in part one, The Extrovert Ideal, is outstanding.

• The Rise of the "Mighty Likeable Fellow" details the shift from the pre-1920s American ideal that the best personality attributes dealt with virtue to the standard that it was more important to be exude confidence and likability.  
• The Myth of Charismatic Leadership really hit home for me. It gave stories of how it feels to be an introvert in settings where extroversion is not only the standard, but where introversion is almost snubbed and not allowed.  It also spoke to one of my biggest pet peeves; just because someone says something loudly and with confidence does not mean they are right.  
• When Collaboration Kills Creativity also struck a chord with me because it addresses the need to set introverts up for success by not making us work in a cookie cutter setting that is meant to promote collaboration, but just ends up being overstimulating for us.

The other parts of the book were interesting but not as personally impactful.  They include: Your Biology, Your Self? which is basically the nature/nurture debate and how and how much we can expand our temperament; Do All Cultures Have An Extrovert Ideal which followed the cases of a couple of Asian American students who grew up in a California town where they were the majority and their respective cultures were largely intact.  Overall this meant have ambition, but you don't have to step on everyone around you to use it;

"Soft power is quiet persistence"

And the last section, How To Love, How To Work which was more of a how to guide - how to pull characteristics from your opposite type, how to communicate with the opposite type and how to raise introverted children.

A quote Cain provided near the end of the book brought everything full circle for me.  She said,

"Figure out what you are meant to contribute to the world and make sure you contribute it."

Simple words, but they needed to be said.  As an introvert, it's easy to allow your voice to be silenced because you get so exhausted from trying to be heard in such a loud culture. But we need encouragement like that to remind us that what we have to say is important too.

~ With ♥ from Halima
     

     

"Truth is 'that which is.' It is specific energy in the universe"

- Paper Money and Gold As Symbols

Frances Cress Welsing

"Black manhood does not mean macho or money, but instead it means warrior or soldier against white supremacy."

So after 13 years, I finally went back and picked up Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness. I was supposed to read it freshman year of college, but...well, anyway. One thing that did stick with me all these years was the discussion about racism in American literature that it sparked. So, after all these years, I decided to go back and see what my former classmates were talking about.

You can read more about the plot in the link I provided above, but in short, the story is about Marlow, a young steamboat captain, that is charged with rescuing Mr. Kurtz, an ivory trader, from one of the ivory company's stations. Upon approaching the station in the heart of the Congo region, Marlow is attacked by natives. Later, the reader finds out that the attack was ordered by Mr. Kurtz who had come to relate to the natives. But this bond between Mr. Kurtz and the natives is portrayed as the result of the illness that eventually took Mr. Kurtz's life.

So, what made this book so racist?

Well, outside of the natives being referred to as nothing other than savages or niggers, they received this era's usual treatment of dehumanization. The African men who were mentioned in this novel were either childlike, driven by simple motivators like food or simply in place to serve white men. The reader never learns anything about these characters, not even something so basic as a name. We are simply supposed to take Conrad at his word - that African culture is savage and evil.

And after all this, the reader is subjected to a conversation between Marlow and Mr. Kurtz's fiancé that starts like this:

'You knew him well,' she murmured after a moment of mourning silence.

'Intimacy grows quick out there," I said.

These words could have been those of any war vet. But in this case, what was the war about?? Men who entered a region to enslave the people and take their resources?? One man who got sick while doing this and as a result turned on his own people?? Maybe it's a difference of perspective, but I see no validity in Marlow's feelings.

Furthermore, I see no validity in any of our great American classics that hold this perspective. I wish educators would stop inserting books like this and Huckleberry Finn and The Last of the Mohicans in our curriculums and calling it diversification. These "classics" do nothing but offer instruction on how to continue a culture of inequality. There have been countless novels published since the late 19th century. I think it's time we find value in these and redefine what it means to be a classic.

I'm almost finished reading my latest literary undertaking.  Usually, I would include the title and link to a book, but in this case it could be harmful.  See, the author of the book wrote about her recovery from mental illness and because everything is Googleable, I don't want anything I say here to compromise her progress should she happen to run across this.

In her memoir, the author speaks about a session she was having when her therapist told her her progress was being stunted by the need for others' validation.  The author was shocked and possibly a little angered by this comment.  But she goes on to detail her recovery which, when it comes down to it, was greatly rooted in public recognition of her talents and abilities.  In short, the author became recognized in the mental health community via her work as an artist (part of her artist's bio included that she was mentally ill).  From there, she began speaking publicly about the elements that aided on her path to wellness.  But in one of the last chapters of the book she says, in so many words, that her feeling of balance stems from people recognizing her as a capable individual who has something to contribute to society. 

So, has the author recovered or has she just found an acceptable way of gaining the validation she craves?? Her fix.  What would happen if her role in the mental health community diminished or disappeared?? Would it throw her back into mental unbalance until she could carve out another means of displaying her value?? 

On a larger scale, what makes the author so different from anyone else??  The need for a feeling of importance or the magnitude of this need?? We all want to feel like our time on earth has meaning.  Validation.  Maybe many of us don't become completely unbalanced when we don't have this, but it's still upsetting and motivates us to work for what we need.  And we do this with what we, as individuals, have available to us.  As a result, it's important to remember, everyones' path will look different. 

I can't judge the author because she found her way to get what she needed.  In fact, I commend her because she worked hard to do so in a positive way.  We should all take a page from her book - figuratively speaking. 

Edwidge Danticat's books are of the sort that make you fail miserably when trying to explain what makes them outstanding. The kind that ties your tongue.  That makes you restart your sentence three times before finally giving up and saying, "You just have to read her work."  Even so, I'll do my best.

When I picked up Krik? Krak! I was expecting a book of unrelated, short stories.  But Danticat truly demonstrated her storytelling abilities in this one.  In every story, she would infuse a golden, literary nugget that was breathtaking, but not distracting.  I would read it, admire it and move on to the end of the short story in which it was written.  As I moved into other parts of the book, and at a time I least expected, I'd find that golden nugget nestled in another story, tying everything together.  And I discovered this wasn't just a book of short stories, this was a history of generations of Haitian women.  And let me take this moment to say, I was unable to finish any of their stories without closing the book and thinking about how powerful it was.  

I'm going to cut this post short because I don't want to give too much away.  So, I'll end by saying, you just have to read her work.

Today, I finished reading Evita: In My Own Words, an autobiography of Eva Perón, former First Lady of Argentina .  And while I loved its insight into Perón's thoughts on social equality, religion and the need for people to actively pursue what is rightly theirs, the below quote is my take away.  It was written by John Page in the book's introduction.  He had just relayed that Perón refused a hysterectomy after being diagnosed with the uterine cancer that would eventually claim her life:

Psychological and perhaps even cultural pressures may have made it impossible for the "Spiritual Mother of All Argentine Children" to cope with the symbolism of a hysterectomy.

If Perón had opted to have her uterus removed, the odds were in her favor that she would have lived a long, cancer-free life.  Instead she got engrossed in her title of the "Spiritual Mother of All Argentine Children," refused to have her womb, the physical embodiment of motherhood, removed and ultimately gave her life to continue playing the role that was cast upon her by others.

After reading this, I couldn't help but think about the similarities  between Perón's story and Ol' Dirty Bastard's.  At first glimpse, you'd think an Argentinian women who died in 1952 would have nothing in common with an African American man who died almost nine years ago, but hear me out.

RZA, of Wu-Tang Clan, provided a eulogy at ODB's funeral.  Here's a video of, what is in my opinion, one of the most notable things he said.  There's a text summary below:

I recently finished reading Tuesdays With Morrie which I'd like to recommend as a highly inspirational and thought-provoking good read. 

I walked away from this story with two quotes with which I connected.  The first is taken from a flashback of a conversation the author, Mitch Albom, was having with the subject of the book, Morrie.  It really encapsulates Morrie's life philosophy.

The way you get meaning into your life is to devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that give you purpose and meaning. 
 

Honestly, I think this is a philosophy many of  us have held at some point in our lives, but we lost sight of it as we took on more responsibility.  And unfortunately, oftentimes this responsibility is a result of what will make us appear happy and successful in society.  It has no actual connection to what will fulfill us on individual levels.

This brings me to the second quote with which I connected:

The culture we have does not make people feel good about themselves.  We're teaching the wrong things.  And you have to be strong enough to say the culture doesn't work, don't  buy it.  Create your own.
 

Now is good time to mention Tuesdays With Morrie sold approximately 30 million copies worldwide.  It's safe to say people love this book.  I think it's because it affirms people's intuition about their life wisdom.  Gives credence to thoughts and feelings they have had, but were anxious about revealing or trusting. 

But if so many people are having the same thoughts about what it takes to reshape society into a better existence, why is the world in its current state??

I hate to keep harping on this, but the answer is simple.  Fear and greed.

Almost every culture worldwide is controlled by a greedy minority.  They fear losing their wealth, so they instill fear in the majority to prevent this from occurring.  They do this by creating situations that have the majority concerned about physical safety, social rank (usually as it relates to race) and financial status.  By keeping the majority's collective mind focused on these, it leaves no time to explore potential.  When the majority is focused on surviving instead of living, it blocks creative energy and lessens the likelihood of people elevating themselves.  This lack of growth stops the birth of new ideas that may usurp and therefore minimize the influence of the minority's existing cash cows.   And this, my friends, is how the rich get richer while the rest of us simply continue to hang on.

We all know it's not right, so in the words of Morrie, "the culture doesn't work, don't buy it." Don't let these lessens taught by life and affirmed by Morrie go to waste.  Go out and create something.  It's time to get free.

I recently began reading Toni Morrison's Playing in the Dark: Whiteness and the Literary Imagination.  
The book consists of three essays:  Black Matters, Romancing the Shadow and Disturbing Nurses and the Kindness of Sharks.

I've nearly completed the first piece and had to record my initial thoughts. The essay focuses on the effect removing Africanist culture from literature has had on American writers, who were largely white males. 

This study is broadening my literary horizons for a number of reasons. First, while it is more common to see a white, male author surmise how women or individuals of another race perceive the world, it's not as common to see an author of another race and gender turn the tables.  So Toni Morrison's take, as a black woman, offers a dynamic perspective on how race in American literature imposes itself on this group.  Needless to say, the confidence she approaches this task with is inspiring to me as a black, female writer.

Second, I've always been angered by the fact that African American history has been removed and taught separately from American history as though one can exist without the other.  That being said, I've never carried this thought process into American/African American literature.  I've always attributed the lack of African American presence or our negative portrayal in American literature to the fact that the authors write about what they know or, more accurately, think they know. I assumed DuBois' veil was in play; white culture's lack of true understanding of our culture blocking them from creating characters of any true substance.  Furthermore, though I've lamented on what our absence or negative portrayal has done to the readers of American literature, I've never considered the effect it's had on the authors. 

Lastly, I want to share a quote I fell in love with from the preface:

The imagination that produces work which bears an invites rereadings, which motions to future readings as well as contemporary ones, implies a shareable world and an endlessly flexible language.

And another from Black Matters:

Writers are among the most sensitive, the most intellectually anarchic, most representative, most probing of artists.  The ability of writers to imagine what is not the self, to familiarize the strange and mystify the familiar, is the test of their power.

These capture just what I hope to one day achieve with my writing - to create something beautiful and meaningful that stands the test of time.  Toni Morrison has made it apparent just how much responsibility comes with this dream.

Feb. 20, 2013 Update: I just finished this book.  I can only say it's complex yet amazing.  I picked it up as a writer always seeking to learn more about my trade, but I'd definitely recommend it to anybody who loves literature.

You know what?? It's time for us to address the misperception of the happy slave.

I watched Alex Haley's Queen this weekend for the first time since its release in 1993.  I was lightweight outraged.  The way slavery and the post-reconstruction era were portrayed was distorted, to put it mildly. 

Because the story is about a mulatto ex-slave, Queen, it focuses on her struggle to find acceptance.  This is something to which a majority of people can relate.  Unfortunately, the truth specific to black people in this era was lost.  For instance, the viewer is confronted with Queen's friend who speaks her mind to her masters with no repercussions, Queen, who simply walks out of the big house's front door, twice, to escape slavery and a group of sharecroppers who go on strike.  Not only do they go on strike, but the only member of the group who faces consequence is the leader, Davis, who happens to be the father of Queen's first-born son Abner.  Davis was lynched for his revolutionary role in the community and this unfortunately, provided the only realistic portrayal of what was largely happening in the South during this era.

Twenty years after Queen, Django comes and demonstrates America's memory of black history has deteriorated even more.   Can I just say, they got y'all when they marketed Django as a movie about slavery??  Slavery in this context was used as the backdrop to a story and was used to draw an audience Quentin Tarantino wouldn't normally attract. 

In spite of all the violence and blood in the movie, the most horrific scene we witnessed that directly addressed slavery was four scars on Kerry Washington's back and the 'r' brand she received for running away.  Yes, the fact that a husband and wife were sold apart was sad, but it was part of the love story that fueled the need for the bloodshed that is classic Tarantino.

The other portrayals of slavery in Django were less than realistic: slaves swinging on a tree swing and fixing their hair while another slave is about to receive a beating and slaves leisurely strolling around the plantation when Django arrives on his first bounty hunting mission to name a few. 

Let me be clear, I'm not looking for more graphic footage here.  In fact, in the case of Django I'm glad there wasn't more blood in relation to slavery.  If there had been, I feel it would've gotten lost in Tarantino's signature exploding body parts and simply become part of the entertainment. 

What I'm asking for is an accurate portrayal.  Something that shows what most black people in America were going through during these eras, not just the stories the majority can relate to - a struggle for acceptance or coping with the loss of a mate.

I think this change of perception starts with who we permit to tell our story.  In the case of Queen, it turns out Alex Haley died before he completed the novel.  Because of this, David Stevens, completed the book and put it on screen.  David Stevens was born in Tiberias, Palestine.  And Django, written by a Italian/Irish filmmaker.  Not saying these men can't appreciate black history, but they overlooked key cultural pieces.  It could have been because they couldn't grasp their importance or it could have been for marketing reasons -  trying to sell a story that would appeal to a greater audience.  Whatever the reason, by continually allowing others to tell our story, we risk having history further rewritten.  We simply can't allow this to happen.

I've been fortunate to have come across and/or been recommended amazing novels over the past couple of months.  I found my most recent read, Silver Sparrow by Tayari Jones, while browsing my Twitter timeline.  Unfortunately, I can't remember who was discussing the novel so I can't thank them for the recommendation, but I'm following suit and recommending it to my readers.

I always hate going into too much detail when reviewing a novel because I don't want to give too much of the plot away, but in brief, this is a story told by two, teenage daughters of a polygamist, James Witherspoon.  The first half of the novel is in the voice of Dana Lynn Yarboro, Witherspoon's oldest daughter.  Dana's mother, Gwen, is Witherspoon's second wife, but she and Dana have been kept secret from his first wife, Laverne and their daughter, Chaurisse.  Hers in an interesting perspective because she is pretty familiar with the comings and goings of Laverne and Chaurisse, while they have no concept of her connection to them.  The second half of the novel is told by Chaurisse.  This provided a dynamic shift in the story because the reader had the opportunity to see Dana and the polygamist situation through her eyes for 160 pages, so it was a different perspective hearing about her, the effects of the polygamy and Chaurisse through Chaurisse's voice.

That's all I'm going to reveal as far as plot, but I do want to share a stylistic element and language that I fell in love with from my favorite chapter titled Uncle Raleigh.  The chapter is a flashback from when Dana was 9 years old and begins with:

As I closed the back cover to A Thousand Splendid Suns, I had to say "That was a good book" even though nobody but my cat, Giselle, was around and she generally pays me no attention. 

This novel relays the history of Afghanistan from the 1980s until shortly after Taliban rule.  The most interesting part is, it's told from the women's perspective.  But the author is a man.  I'm usually leery of authors writing in a voice vastly different from their own, but Hosseini did well with this.  I feel he captured the desire for women to make something out of whatever circumstances they're given, thereby making the reader feel connected to his characters and their plights. 

I don't want to reveal too much because I highly recommend this book and want everybody reading this post to read the novel, but as a brief summary, Hosseini talks about how occupation and the struggle to regain a national identity affects a country.  Spefically, the war to rid Afghanistan of its Soviet occupiers and the subsequent civil conflict that resulted while trying to establish a government. 

It was heartbreaking to read the characters' stories and really get a sense of how all of this fighting affected everyday life and eventually the course of entire lives.  To get into the mindset of people who's every decision is determined by the will to survive.  To see what extremes they'll go to in order to access small luxuries such as watching a movie or traveling freely or having a choice of who you'll build a life with. 

In short, this novel balanced entertainment with history well.  Definitely would give it five out of five stars. 

So, last week's time of reflection threw off my posting flow a little bit, but it's okay, sometimes we need to take time to think.  The downside is, I'm more than halfway done reading Devil in a Blue Dress and I haven't given my thoughts on Manchild in the Promised Land yet.

This is the autobiography of Claude Brown, published in 1965, which recounts how it was coming of age in Harlem in the '50s.  I liked it a lot and gave it four out of five stars.

As far as the story, it was what you'd expect from an account of a man who made something of himself in spite of all odds being stacked against him.  The thing that stood out about this book was Brown's writing style.  Reading it made me feel like I was in his thoughts.  When the book opens, Brown is about five years old, and his thoughts sound like those of a five-year-old child.  Over the course of the book, his writing reflects the thought process of whatever season he was in in his life.  He was also skilled in capturing his thoughts and emotions when dealing with complicated life situations.  These parts of the book felt very human and often provided humorous anecdotes.  All of this made the book enjoyable, but it also gave me the sense of Harlem in the '50s as opposed to feeling like I was reading an analytical account.

The downside to this stream of conscious writing style is that because the book is written how people think, the story was sometimes circular.  This resulted in some redundancy which was a little irritating because the autobiography was so good, I almost felt like I was reading a novel and was expecting a linear plot.

All in all, it was a good book and it comes highly recommended by me.

I'm in the process of reading Fraternity by Diane Brady. I find the subject matter largely uninteresting - the book relays College of the Holy Cross' efforts to attract more black men in the '60s - because having personally experienced being recruited by and attending a liberal arts college with a small percentage of minority students, reading this is like reading the journal I maintained as an undergrad.

I have taken a liking to a key player in the book, Reverend John E. Brooks S.J., the catalyst for Holy Cross' diversity push.

Rev. Brooks' views about what an integrated educational system should look like struck a chord with me.

"Was it fair to subject black students to a body of knowledge that had been forged by centuries of white men?...It wasn't enough to let in black students...the school needed to change."

And I would expand that last statement to say, the education system needs to change.

As a holder of a B.A. in African American Studies with a focus on Literature, one of my biggest gripes is that I can't just say, I was a history major, or, I studied literature. I am forced to differentiate an area of study because America continues to fixate on its citizens' differences. Although I studied the history and literature of a people in this country, I’m forced to refer to my area of expertise as though it exists halfway around the world.

These distinctions exist because it’s
the desire that our mainstream education system remain stagnant. For instance, literary classics should be the gold standard regardless of (or more likely, because of) the antiquated views they posses and history should be taught in the same manner regardless of the common knowledge that it’s been skewed to promote the interests of involved parties.

But how many histories can one country have? And more importantly, why has every other culture’s history been adopted into and taught as American history while our history remains its own category?

I know that by asking for our history to be regarded as simply American history, I’m asking for a lot. It involves the people in power accepting not only factual information, but also us as a people. Delving even deeper, this involves accepting responsibility for what’s been done to keep us on the periphery. I’m aware this is counterproductive to their goals and therefore unrealistic.

Therefore, it is our job to stop getting distracted - trying to keep up with the Joneses or trying to actively rebel by creating a counterculture that is becoming more meaningless by the day. We need to define and focus on our own needs as Americans.

Our history in this country predates slavery and even the arrival of European settlers. So, we need to acknowledge that we're more than just a small portion or an appendix to our country's history. And once we accept this, we need to share the knowledge because regardless of a person's race, ethnicity or culture, if they live here, our history, as American history, affects them.

The diversification in our country's education isn't going to start at the top because like I previously said, the people at the top have a vested interest in keeping things the way they are. So we need to educate each other. I'm trying to do my part through this blog, but I still have a lot to learn, so please treat this as a forum to hold conversation, share ideas and information.

When I began reading Three Cups of Tea, I made a
prediction that I’d either love the book because it was about a man, Greg Mortenson, founder of Central Asia Institute, who turned his thoughts into action, or hate it because it was another story glorifying the Western World’s influence on so-called primitive cultures.

After reading it, I’m surprised that my reaction is simply lukewarm.

I accept Mortenson’s assessment of one of the possible causes of extreme Islam – lack of opportunity. He believed that by providing education in Pakistan and Afghanistan, it would create opportunity. This opportunity would thereby prevent people from feeling the need to join groups such as the Taliban in order to be heard and get what they need. In short, he felt that a counter-attack against terrorism was respect. Provide communities basic needs - schools, clean water and the tools to create industry – instead of solely approaching them destructively.

“People in that part of the world are used to death and violence…the worst thing you can do is what we’re doing – ignoring the victims. To call them ‘collateral damage’ and not even try to count the numbers of the dead. Because to ignore them is to deny they ever existed, and there is no greater insult in the Islamic world. For that, we will never be forgiven.” – Greg Mortenson

My least favorite feeling about the book stems from what remained unsaid. There are children right here in America that could benefit just as much from the aid Mortenson strove to provide for other countries. Although I don’t frown on any humanitarian efforts, I wish more people paid attention to taking care of their own before extending themselves. I just feel we’d be able to do more overall if we’re stronger as a whole.

Okay, so now that my opinion has been stated, I’d like to talk about my favorite story in the book. Jahan, the first graduate of the first school Mortenson founded in Pakistan came to him after she’d completed her studies in her village. When she began her studies, Mortenson asked what she envisioned for her future and promised to help her achieve her goals. She wanted to continue her education by studying medicine in a nearby city and then returning to her village with the knowledge. To convince Mortenson to help her make her dream a reality, she put together a written proposal detailing course load and cost of tuition and school supplies. The catcher was this quote:

“Here comes this teenage girl, in the center of a conservative Islamic village, waltzing into a circle of men, breaking through about sixteen layers of traditions at once: She had graduated from school and was the first educated woman in a valley of three thousand people. She didn’t defer to anyone, sat down right in front of Greg, and handed him the product of the revolutionary skills she’d acquired – a proposal, in English, to better herself, and improve the life of her village.”

If that’s not the fruition of opportunity, I don’t know what is.

Although much of the book focused on humanitarian efforts, Mortenson and Relin did a wonderful job capturing the political context of the conflict in Afghanistan. He described a visit to the Pentagon when he gave a speech about his efforts in Pakistan and Afghanistan. He detailed military officers with laptops under their arms speed walking down hallways – a world apart from life as he knew it from spending time in Pakistan and Afghanistan. They are simply out of touch, using cyberspace to try and fight a very real war.

And last but not least, I loved this quote Mortenson and Relin included from one of Pakistan’s Brigadier Generals, Bashir Baz

“Osama is not a product of Pakistan or Afghanistan. He is a creation of America. Thanks to America, Osama is in every home…you can never fight and win against someone who can shoot at you once and then run off and hide while you have to remain eternally on guard. You have to attack the source of your enemy’s strength. In America’s case, that’s not Osama or Saddam or anyone else. The enemy is ignorance.”

So overall, there’s a lot of really great parts to this book and some that are far too detailed and drag on too long. On a scale of one to five, I’d give it 3.5. Not a must read, but definitely worthwhile.