Tag: african american literature

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The Prophets

Title: The Prophets

Author: Robert Jones, Jr.

Genre: African-American historical fiction

Oh my, this book. Let me say right now that I absolutely loved it. But it’s not an easy book. The language is complex, but beautiful. The subject is about slavery, so you know going into it how difficult it will be to read about. But please don’t let this stop you from reading it. This story will stick with me for a long time.

From Goodreads: Isaiah was Samuel’s and Samuel was Isaiah’s. That was the way it was since the beginning, and the way it was to be until the end. In the barn they tended to the animals, but also to each other, transforming the hollowed-out shed into a place of human refuge, a source of intimacy and hope in a world ruled by vicious masters. But when an older man—a fellow slave—seeks to gain favor by preaching the master’s gospel on the plantation, the enslaved begin to turn on their own. Isaiah and Samuel’s love, which was once so simple, is seen as sinful and a clear danger to the plantation’s harmony.

With a lyricism reminiscent of Toni Morrison, Robert Jones, Jr. fiercely summons the voices of slaver and the enslaved alike to tell the story of these two men; from Amos the preacher to the calculating slave-master himself to the long line of women that surround them, women who have carried the soul of the plantation on their shoulders. As tensions build and the weight of centuries—of ancestors and future generations to come—culminate in a climactic reckoning, The Prophets masterfully reveals the pain and suffering of inheritance, but is also shot through with hope, beauty, and truth, portraying the enormous, heroic power of love.

It’s hard for me to say you should read this book because xyz reasons. It’s difficult. It’s challenging. It’s complicated. This story isn’t one you’ll fly through. But it’s just a beautiful one. The love between Samuel and Isaiah is one we should all hope to have. The love that when someone looks into your eyes, they see all the way inside you. The love that just by a movement or gesture, they know your emotions. I couldn’t read this book for hours on end. It was just too much. But at no point did I want to step away. I loved this book. Easily one of the best I’ve read this year.

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Beloved

There is absolutely no way to do this book justice. No matter what I write, the adjectives I use, the descriptions I provide, they will never be enough to convey the power of this book. This is my second Morrison book this year (see The Bluest Eye review for further opinions on Morrison, most of which are the same as I presented here). For the 2016 book challenge, I was going to select One Hundred Years of Solitude for a 20th century classic, but I was so moved by The Bluest Eye that I selected Beloved instead.

Published in 1987, winner of the Pulitzer Prize, horribly adapted into a movie (please don’t watch. It will ruin you) and censored by stuffy housewives everywhere, this book has no equal. Morrison’s prose is breathtaking. One scene a slave dares to speak his mind, is then whipped, and the owner reminds him that “Definitions belong to the definer, not the defined.” It is rare that a sentence of such magnitude is formed so perfectly with such minimalistic language, yet holds such a profound meaning. This sentence sums up our society today. Labeling another person is a national pastime these days. And Morrison captured this concept perfectly.

The story isn’t an easy one to read. Between the vocabulary, unexpected shift in narrator, non-chronological order, and the plot itself, this book will drain you. But every minute of reading is worth it. Morrison is easily the best writer of our modern era. And sadly, her books are rarely studied because of the aforementioned stuffy housewives who don’t want their special snowflakes exposed to the horrors of the world. Not only is it valuable to expose children to difficult times, it’s also critical so we learn to never repeat our mistakes.

Morrison is considered one of the greatest African-American writers in American history. I agree wholeheartedly and will go on to say she’s one of the most important writers, among the very best of all writers in American history. Her ability is like none other. She is simply the best.

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The Bluest Eye

I’ve never read Toni Morrison. With all the profound, important books I’ve read, all the authors we will be reading for decades to come, she is one I haven’t gotten around to, until this week. And let me make this clear- I get it.

I get why she is required reading. I get why she is considered a master of her craft. I get why she has won a Pulitzer. This book simply took my breath away. So many memorable phrases and sentences of just a few words, but their meaning and context is profound.

The story is so difficult to read, especially since it involves children and their fears, terrors, horrors. However, even though the events in the book take place in the past, their importance cannot be forgotten easily. We should value children, protect them, love them, no matter what.

I am absolutely going to read more from this formidable author. There should be another word for people who are heads and shoulders above their peers. Author doesn’t seem like a strong enough word for what Morrison is. It’s downright insulting to put her in the same category with Nicholas Sparks or James Patterson. Morrison’s words and legacy are limitless.

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books and reading

Their Eyes Were Watching God

I am pretty sure I’ve reread everything from high school, aside from random Christopher Pike books, but I have no desire to ever read those again. But all the meaningful books I read back in the day, I have reread as an adult, considering I taught high school for a number of years. And I thought of revisiting one that I taught but haven’t read in awhile, but nothing jumped out at me. So, instead of going the high school route, for this challenge, I chose to reread a book that I read in college. In my American Lit II class, we read Their Eyes Were Watching God. The only thing I remembered from this book (which I’m almost positive I did actually read it) was that it was African-American lit and there was a character named Tea Cake in it.

And while I was reading, I was consciously aware that this was a brand new book to me. I remembered absolutely nothing. So, maybe I didn’t read it in college, but that doesn’t sound like me. I slogged my way through everything. In any case, I’m glad I went back to this one. I really enjoyed it, given the plot is pretty sparse. However, the characters are quite rich and the writing was wonderful. Much of it is written in dialect, so I did have to slow down a bit, but once I got the hang of it, for example “Ah” instead of I, I was able to move quicker through it. The main character, Janie, just wants love, the universal desire. She wants to be in love, the sweet nectar honeybee kind of love. Her grandmother wants her to marry for security, so Janie does. It doesn’t work out, though. She moves on to another man, one who promises to love her and treat her well. Eh, not so much there either. Finally, the last one, Tea Cake, does a fair better job. They are like cats and dogs at each others’ throats at times, but he understands her best, but not fully. Such is the way of life, I suppose. Can anyone FULLY understand us?

Even though this book is nearly 80 years old (right? 1937…. my math is terrible), I was able to relate to it. Don’t we all want to be loved, treated right, and understood at our cores?