The Hate U Give

Like all my favorite stories, Angie Thomas’s The Hate U Give introduced me to a whole new world. Except, however foreign it feels to me, Starr’s world exists–in places I can drive to–even if they’re hard for me to see, given that I’m a white girl. My world might as well be a different planet from the one Starr grows up in. When she was twelve, her father gave her a lecture on how to survive a traffic stop. When I was twelve, my dad gave me the “ice-cream talk.” (Honey, you’re getting to an age when boys are going to start saying they love you, and you need to understand that for most of them, when they say, “I love you,” they mean it–but in the same way they mean “I love ice cream.” When they mean it for real, they’ll ask you to marry them.)

It was a good talk, and it served me well, but then, I didn’t need the other one. Up until a few years ago, I rarely encountered the police, and when I did, they were always respectful and helpful. (In the past few years, I have encountered the police rather more, and they’re still always respectful and helpful.) Like many people, I’m nervous around police officers–afraid I’ll get in trouble (Was I speeding? I didn’t think I was.) But I’ve never been afraid for my life. And growing up, I didn’t even know that in America, there were people who were afraid for their lives when they encountered police officers. The way the history was taught at my school, I imagined racism pretty much ended with Martin Luther King Jr. I only really knew one African American growing up. (My piano teacher–and I don’t recall ever talking to him about anything other than piano.)

When I went to the University of Toledo for school, though, and met classmates who lived in Detroit and were routinely pulled over on their commute home for “driving while black,” I could hardly believe it. I felt my country had betrayed me. How could we pretend everything was good, everything was right, when this kind of thing still went on?

I was outraged.

I still am. Because, as The Hate U Give has reminded me, nothing has improved in the intervening twenty-odd years. White America is still denying there’s a problem while non-white America gets bullied by the police and the courts (and sometimes by banks, housing administrations, “welfare” organizations, school systems…) There is an entire world, just beyond my doorstep, and if I don’t know about it, maybe it’s because I’m willfully ignorant.

And the church–oh the church. My white Christian brothers and sisters, I know some of you are saying you refuse to feel guilty about what our forefathers have done, and I agree that God doesn’t hold people accountable for the sins of their parents. Slavery is not our sin. But not even acknowledging there’s a problem while police harass and kill members of our community–people made in the image of God–that is sin. Not acknowledging there’s a problem when whole generations of African American young men go to prison and die–that is sin. It’s sin. You may not feel guilty. I may not feel guilty. But we are. And if we want to stop being guilty, we need to stop ignoring the problem and start repenting. And, just to be clear, when I say repenting, I’m not just saying we should feel bad that this is going on (though I’m not sure how we can avoid feeling bad that this is going on.) I’m saying we need to start actively working for change–in our churches, in our schools, in our communities, in our country. God is not pleased with us when we ignore oppression.

But, back to the story. I think that after the world-building, the thing I liked best was the characterization–Starr, and her friends, friends both from school and from her neighborhood. I liked getting to know Khalil especially–as more than just a drug dealer. I don’t think I’d realized before how often the media (and thus the rest of us) describe a person who may have engaged in criminal activity by that criminality alone, as if the criminal behavior is their entire identity. Khalil and Starr are pulled over on a (probably bogus) traffic stop, and then Khalil is shot when he leans toward the car window to ask Starr if she’s OK. Despite being unarmed and having no contraband in his car, Khalil is called a suspected drug-dealer in the news, as if that somehow makes him responsible for his own death. Though Khalil was, in fact, dealing drugs, Starr remembers him in much more fullness. She remembers their time growing up together, their days joking around when they worked together in her father’s shop, the way he took care of his grandma (who was battling cancer) and younger brother, the way he still loved his mother even though she was an addict. Even if it was true that he sold drugs (and he had no record, so what business did the papers have reporting such a thing?), it was irrelevant to his death. And even if it had been relevant to his death, it was by no means all he was.

Of course, this is a story. It didn’t really happen. Except it has happened. Again, and again, and again.

I love it when a book manages to teach me something without me feeling like I’m being preached at.

Hello, Universe

It’s easy to see why this book won the Newbery this year.  The kids in this story are quirky, delightfully complex, and easy to believe in and sympathize with.  Even Chet, the stereotypical bully, is not nearly so stereotypical as he first appears.

Don’t get me wrong.  He’s still a bully, and as such, largely unlike-able.  But he has a couple of good points, and you can kind of get where he’s coming from.  He could use a few good friends.

It’s a pity he’s not willing to consider Virgil, Valencia or Kaori as possible friends, because these three, as mentioned above, are wonderful characters, each strong in her or his own right.  They’re the kind of kids I wish I’d known when I was that awkward age between sixth and seventh grade.  Or perhaps I did know kids like this, but was too wrapped up in my own misery to recognize them.

These three, though, manage to look a bit beyond their own borders and make the most of the gifts the universe brings them–the stories, the experiences and the the others that cross their paths.  They grow as people in this short story, and it’s easy to believe that they’ll have what they need to face their tomorrows.

Outlander

I’ve been meaning to read this for months because one of my critique group members recommends everything by Diana Gabaldon.  And yet, somehow, I hadn’t managed it.  I think I was half afraid it wouldn’t live up to the hype.

But it really is that good.  The characters and settings are rich, the plot engrossing, and the romance fresh and satisfying.  I’d read it again.  I might even want to replace my e-book copy with an actual book.

Rejection, Romance & Royalties

This collection of essays about making a living as a fiction writer had me laughing out loud and reading extended sections (when I could get them out without cracking up) to my critique group and long-suffering husband.  Besides being a healthy dose of fun, these  essays were practical and encouraging.  I’m currently borrowing my copy from the library, but I may just get one of my own. Yes, it’s that good.  If you’re a writer, or even if you just need a good laugh, you might want to check this book out.

Dragon of Ash and Stars

This was a Bookbub title I picked up for free, but it was worth so much  more than the nonexistent price I paid.  This is one of only a couple of ebook titles I’ve read that I may try to obtain in actual paper (the others are Audacity and The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay).

Dragon of Ash and Stars is a beautifully written coming of age story, with a unique voice (the narrator is a dragon).  The world building is rich, the details exquisite, and the story reminiscent of Black Beauty.  The main character is complex, realistically flawed, and extraordinarily sympathetic despite (or perhaps as a result of) feeling distinctly not-human.

If you’re into fantasy, I’d strongly recommend this book.

The Finishing Touches

K. gave me this one for a birthday a couple of years ago. As I understand it, she picked it up off some bargain table to fit it into her budget, so I had some qualms starting it. I was pleasantly surprised to discover a well-written, sweet-yet-modern romance (real world, fairly modern problems, but it’s PG at the most). I love returning to this book when I’m stressed out and want something hopeful and not too straining on the brain, and I keep looking for sequels. Alas, nothing new so far as I can tell.

Signs of You

I pre-ordered this book months ago when I first heard it was coming out in part because I’ve met Emily France, and she’s lovely, but mostly because I had seen or heard just a bit of the story at some RMFW event and was longing to read the rest.

It does not disappoint. Riley and her three best friends are vividly drawn, complex people, all of them sympathetic, all of them flawed. I find myself fascinated by the adventure they go on together to unravel the paranormal puzzle that is further tangling their already complicated lives, and I’m fully involved in the story right to the very end. The love story is sweet, and even the present tense doesn’t grate on me the way narrative present usually does–at least not after the first page or so.

Definitely a read I’d recommend. (But probably for kids a bit older than mine.)

The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes

I must have read some Sherlock Holmes stories before–I’m sure I must have.  But I can’t recall doing so.  I’ve seen movies and TV shows, serious takes and spoofs.  But this might be the first time I’ve read the real thing.

The real thing doesn’t disappoint. Sherlock is brilliant and quirky, Watson grounded and real.  The problems are ingenious, and though I still prefer novels to short stories, I enjoyed every one of these. I believe I’m keeping this book.  I may even keep an eye out for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s other collections.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

My kids and I have been reading through the Harry Potters together for several months, and have just finished number five.  We started this set because the kids are getting pressure from classmates to read and discuss the books, but I don’t want my two reading them on their own yet.  This is the compromise we came up with.

Reading these aloud, I notice things I didn’t when reading them to myself–unfortunate things like awkward dialogue tags and the overuse of adverbs. But the story is just as brilliant, the world just as rich, the characters just as complex and finely drawn, and the humor just as delightful.  And the experience is more meaningful when I read with my kids.

I love the way we get to the end of a section and they beg for more.  I love the conversations that get started around the dinner table about what good families are like and who to trust and how to make good choices and how the world isn’t divided into good people and Death Eaters–that evil can take many forms and faces, some of which initially appear to be good.  I love the way the kids get inspired to create their own worlds as they emerge from this one.

I’ve always loved these books.  I love them even more now that my family is experiencing them together.

Career of Evil

This is the third Cormoran Strike novel, a deliciously complicated psychological mystery by Robert Galbraith (otherwise known as J.K. Rowling).  I first picked up the Galbraith novels because I love Rowling’s work, but I keep reading them because they’re wonderful.

I love Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott, and the way the relationship between them sparks with chemistry and confusion, even more than if they were romantically involved.  I love the complexity of the other characters and the richness of the world.  I love the insight the work gives into the everyday struggles of living in modern London.

I also like the mystery itself.  There’s plenty of suspense and enough red herrings to keep me guessing until fairly late in the story.  Altogether, an excellent book of its type.  Galbraith has become one of my favorite mystery authors, one of the very few whose works I keep around on my shelves for re-reading.