As much as good writing enchants me, I also love when I am reminded of the power of photography to capture a person, a moment, an idea. This week I was fortunate to come across Ruddy Roye’s Instagram account, when seeking out professional photographers to follow. A self-described “photographer with a conscience,” Roye’s street photography is fantastic by itself, but he often adds commentary to the photos that makes them even more interesting, talking about why he took a particular shot or giving some facts or a quotation each one. It seems that his work brings an important lens to black America and working class America.
When you’re jobless, the pace of time becomes very slow. Like excruciatingly slow. I was getting more and more addicted to Facebook and that had become a serious problem. During those days, Farmville was at its peak and people were going crazy sending each other pigs, horses, dogs, and what not.
This was quite a unique read for me. Varun’s story is a book straight out of Bangalore, India, and so it feels different from the U.S.-published books I read almost exclusively. It doesn’t quite read like the memoirs and autobiographies that I’m used to, and it took a minute to adjust to the super-casual language and frequent interjections of Varun’s thoughts.
Varun wants to start a company, but he feels trapped by the expectations of his family that he get a steady, well-paying tech job and make a good impression on the aunties in his mother’s social circle. Then he and a good friend get the idea to start a clothing brand company for alums of prestigious local high schools. The book is a mixture of self-exploration, business strategy, and cultural analysis.
I liked that Varun’s book took me into a different side of the world, and through the first-person narrative of a current resident, rather than that of a non-native or an expat. However, at the same time, I have to say that I wasn’t always riveted by the story he has to tell. Maybe a lot of that has to do with the fact that I’m not really interested in starting a business right now, and I don’t quite relate to his focus on making the most money possible. Or it might have to do with my observation that the book has a distinctly “bro-ey” feel to it — Varun is often hanging out with his male friends talking about drinking or the girls they think are hot. Also, the chapters sometimes feel too short (many are just a couple pages), with not enough material to get into the interesting relationships in Varun’s life, and while he strives for a light, whimsical tone the comedy was hit-or-miss.
But I do think that Varun’s story could be particularly appealing to the Silicon Valley entrepreneurial types or anyone else starting up a small business. The one thing you take away from the book is that it takes a lot of creativity and persistence to get any business up off the ground.
I am reminded of what I have always known, but what some would choose to deny: that there is no way to work your way out — earn your way out — of this sort of crisis. In these moments, what you’ve done matters less than how you look.
The article that really gave me chills this week was Charles Blow’s account of his son having a gun pointed in his face at Yale for being a suspected burglar (aka, walking while black). Blow’s post isn’t particularly long or one of his more purposefully eloquent pieces of writing, but you can just feel the sadness and anger coming across the page that he can’t protect his son from the discrimination one experiences as a black person in the U.S.
He agonizes about what could have happened if his son had made a “suspicious” or panicked movement in his surprise and distress at having a gun pointed at him. He laments the fact that he had to have a talk with his son in the past about what to do if this very situation were to happen, even as he rejoices that he did.
Most of all, I’m thankful that Blow took a clear shot at respectability politics by pointing out that no black kid is safe from this harassment and violence. No parent of a black child is free from the specter of losing him or her through the perception that this child is a threat.
Martin Luther King Jr.’s day of remembrance seems to have arrived at a particularly opportune time of the year, given the heightened dialogue around black lives and race relations in the U.S. I watched the Selma movie this past weekend to put myself in an even greater mode of reflection about where we’ve been as a country and where we’re headed when it comes to race. I’d definitely recommend the film.
In the social justice world I often hear talk about how society has made much progress in racial justice throughout the years, but that we have a long ways to go. This is still true. We have to acknowledge both the past and the present.
With regards to the latter, here’s roundup of racial justice links I found interesting this past week:
- Organizers took MLK day as inspiration for a weekend-long set of actions in various cities across the U.S. Here’s what went on in just the Bay Area, for example.
- The best long-form article I read last week was on the making of Silicon Valley with respect to race and class. An important read, given the high intensity economic pressure that Silicon Valley and the tech sector exert on low- and middle-income residents throughout the Bay Area.
- Speaking of income and neighborhood change, this video by a young man named Kai about the changes he’s seen in his home community of the Mission District in San Francisco is quite well-done.
- As most people heard, the Oscars were pretty white this year. I’m also particularly surprised looking down the list of past non-white actor nominees to see very few Asian/Pacific Islanders.
- Malinda Lo penned a great blog post called Self-Rejection and Writing from a Marginalized Perspective that gave me lots of food for thought about my writing and various intersecting identities.
Whew, this one took me a while to get through — 969 pages is no small feat. I think one recommendation I have for someone picking up A Clash of Kings after a year or two away from the A Song of Ice and Fire series that it’s a part of is to recap the first book (A Game of Thrones) before digging in. I spent the first hundred pages remembering who the heck all the various characters are. NOTE: Anyone looking to avoid spoilers about A Game of Thrones should probably stop reading here.
To Martin’s credit, he picks up pretty much where the last book left off. The realm is in turmoil, there are multiple “kings” vying for the Iron Throne, basically your ideal setting for a long story of battles and journeys — which seem to be key components of all good fantasy. Martin continues with the alternating POV style that he began in A Game of Thrones, where each new chapter switches the character telling the story. For the most part, I think that strategy works well for Martin, since he has so much geographic area to cover with his tale. It’s like a giant, narrative game of Risk.
When I read the first book in the series I actually didn’t think that I would read the second, not because I didn’t envision myself enjoying it, but because I planned to watch the TV show instead (I know, I know, book people don’t hurt me). But in starting the second season of the show I got the sense that I was missing a lot of back story, so I turned to other Netflix disks while I gave myself a chance to read the second book.
Unfortunately, I kept picking the book up for a few days and then putting it down again to finish other, shorter books. While I love the depth and nuance that Martin creates through his works, sometimes they do get just a tad… long. When I got to the last three or four hundred pages though I really gave Clash of Kings the attention it deserved and got more firmly sucked into the story.
One aspect not unique to Martin’s work that I took issue with throughout Clash of Kings was the depiction of women as weak and powerless. My frustration is complicated, because I do think Martin is trying to depict a time similar to our Middle Ages, where women really didn’t have much power at all. Even so, the frequent portrayals of sexual violence against women, related in a very casual manner through the eyes of the male characters got a little challenging to accept. I would have loved to see a few more “strong” female leads. Catelyn Stark arguably plays this role, but her pieces of the book are surprisingly uninvolved — there is no place where she really carries a pivotal impact on the plot. Arya, another potential strong female role, is a child and that identity seems to trump her feisty nature and brains when it comes to power. I hope that both their roles grow in later books.
As I said, this phenomenon of normalizing rape and sexual violence in fantasy books seems to extend to many other authors outside of Martin’s work, and I can’t help but wonder if the prevalence has something to do with the fantasy writer playing field, which to my knowledge seems fairly white and male. I used to read a lot more fantasy when I was younger, and I think the skewed demographics, along with the sheer length of many of those books has led me to step a little away from the genre. I’m happy to have dipped a toe back in with a solid work like Clash of Kings, but I also think I got my fix for a while.