The Turner House by Angela Flournoy

Cha-Cha should have stopped running. Better to walk as if he’d been walking all along, then make a slow circle back to his truck. But he couldn’t stop himself. He wasn’t skilled at acting natural.
—from
The Turner House by Angela Flournoy

The Turner House

I have a tentative but pure memory of my great-grandfather’s house in the Haight neighborhood of San Francisco, which I visited a some point in my late childhood. I remember the steep set of steps leading up to the front door and the way that the rooms stretched out as wood-floored caverns to the back of the house. I remember several different colors, some blues and greens in particular. I have vague memories of my great-grandfather himself — his deep, patient face, covered in grooves and wrinkles. I can still sense the pride and astonishment I felt at how long he lived, over 100 years.

The house itself got sold away after my great-grandfather’s passing, but his many children and their children (and their children) are a living legacy of this man, formerly a farmer, who migrated from Texas during the great migration and made his new home in Northern California. I think being the product of this history is part of the reason why I’ve always been so fascinated by cities, race, and who owns different spaces and neighborhoods.

Because of my interests, The Turner House was such a treat, but lots of other people would love this book too. Flournoy’s story revolves around a house, as the title suggests — the family home of the Turner clan. The family’s matriarch Viola is getting older and closer to passing away, while her children try to figure out what to do with the property. Some of the children are happier than others, but they all have unique ties to the house and to each other, which Flournoy teases apart skillfully.

The eldest of all the children, Cha-Cha, feels the heaviness of his burden to guide and support the others. He feels haunted by a haint, or ghost, and undertakes a path of internal discovery and an uncovering of family history as a result.

The setting of modern-day Detroit was beautifully constructed, building a very rich sense of home alongside the equally true realities of poverty, white flight, and decay. Flournoy shows us the broken down home foundations and the persistent crime, but also that old neighbor who still lives next door and the familiarity with the streets of one’s youth.

I love that this breakout book was Flournoy’s first, since I think that can only mean positive energy for her next works as she develops and gets more established. I’m also really inspired for stories that I’m working on which also have to do with place, race, and belonging. I’ll happily take suggestions for other books in a similar vein.

4Stars24 out of 5 stars

This review is for BookLust’s “A More Diverse Universe” reading challenge, encouraging readers to review books by and/or about people of color.

A More Diverse Universe 2015

See a full list of my book reviews here and my book review policy here.

Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng

You could stop taking their phone calls, tear up their letters, pretend they’d never existed. Start over as a new person with a new life. Just a problem of geography, he thought, with the confidence of someone who had never yet tried to free himself of family.
–from
Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng

Everything I Never Told You

Somehow I end up reading a lot of family dramas. I think most writers have a lot to say about family, and for writers of color maybe even more so, since there is so much to say about trying to negotiate your own self-development, fit into a world that doesn’t always look like you, and hold onto the things that really matter to you at the same time.

So even though I’d heard a lot of great things about Ng’s book, I was expecting it to read as a collection of experiences that I’d seen in other books. But what I actually found was something really fresh and raw.

Everything I Never Told You centers on a mixed Chinese American/white family living in a small, mostly-white suburb in Ohio. From the first page you find out that the middle daughter, Lydia, is unexpectedly dead, and the rest of the book unravels from that fact to explore exactly what happened and why.

What I loved most about this book was how well Ng was able to dive into the subtleties of the emotions that run through families under the surface. The entire story is an uncovering of sorts, first about who the parents are and the baggage that they each bring to raising their kids, and then to slowly develop an intricate picture of who the three children are. Each kid is uniquely different, with both strong and weak characteristics, even though they’ve grown up in the same family.

The uncovering feels familiar because it’s the process that we all do over time to dissect our own family histories, emotions, connections, and wounds. We all travel that journey somehow, even if we don’t spend a lot of time consciously ruminating on it.

Ng’s book is definitely a heart-heavy one, but I couldn’t put it down, and I’m so incredibly glad that I read it. It gives you a lot of food for thought not just about your own life and how you interact with family, but also how you approach your life in general, what you believe is possible, and whether you feel fulfilled or trapped. I’m so excited to see what she comes out with next.

5Stars25 out of 5 stars

This review is for BookLust’s “A More Diverse Universe” reading challenge, encouraging readers to review books by and/or about people of color.

A More Diverse Universe 2015

See a full list of my book reviews here and my book review policy here.

September Roundup: Writer Mode and Local Economies

leaf-blur-leaves-ground

I love the feeling of fall in the air. Despite the late heat waves here in the Bay Area, I can tell from the orange-brown of the leaves and the new briskness of the air that fall is here, and it’s been inspiring a lot of creative thoughts. I recently joined a writer’s group, which has me easing back into working on the bits and pieces of a novel I have in the workings. Morning time in particular is turning into an especially productive head space for me.

I’ve been watching Gabriela Pereira from DIY MFA on that newfangled app Periscope. This past week she posted one video a day talking about blogging tips for writers. I found it super helpful, and I enjoy a lot of the content on her site and podcast in general.

I also recently picked up Still Writing by Dani Shapiro, which is part memoir and part writing/life advice. Shapiro writes in lovely short passages that contain a lot of little gems like this:

Let go of every should or shouldn’t running through your mind when you start. Be willing to stand at the base of a new mountain, and with humility and grace, bow to it. Allow yourself to understand that it’s bigger than you, or anything you can possibly imagine. You’re not sure of the path. You’re not even sure where the next step will take you. When you begin, whisper to yourself: I don’t know.

On a different note, I’m little thrown right now with the news that Uber is coming into downtown Oakland with two or three thousand employees. Like many cities, Oakland is struggling so much right now with high rents and housing unaffordability on the rise and I’m wondering how a new influx of wealth is going to change the city. I worry about what the move will mean for the cityscape and its race/class politics, and I’m afraid of what it means for the economy that these companies relying on “independent contractors” (rather than decently compensated employees) are proliferating and growing so rapidly.

Lastly, I’ve been thinking a lot recently about sustainable travel. I have a big exciting trip to Asia coming up, but I want to make sure that when I get there I’m respectful of local cultures, customs, environments, and economies as much as possible. I still have a lot to figure out as to what that will mean on the ground, but I want to be thinking about sustainability when choosing where to stay, what to purchase, and how to act while I’m there. I’ll be looking for plenty of advice in the coming months from friends and other folks who have made similar trips!

Citizen: An American Lyric by Claudia Rankine

And you are not the guy and still you fit the description because there is only one guy who is always the guy fitting the description.
–from
Citizen: An American Lyric by Claudia Rankine

Citizen An American Lyric

The minute I saw the cover I knew I had to read this book. The image of a black hoodie means so much these days in the wake of Trayvon Martin and many other black folks who’ve paid the ultimate price in the face of racism. But for awhile Rankine’s work just felt too heavy of a book for me to read. I’ve needed some space and a few lighter books under my belt before being able to pick up Citizen and give it the presence it deserves.

Rankine is really taking racism to task in her book. Citizen in some ways feels like Rankine’s much needed rant about all the microaggressions and race-based bias or invisibility she’s encountered throughout life. What I think is important though is that Rankine is saying all of this through prose poetry, which lets the rant flow and settle into your brain in little pieces that each deserve their own time to be processed.

Each section of Citizen is in a slightly different style or tackles a different subject, such as media news, microagressions, or more free-floating expression. I connected most with the sections that were about recent events, but I think there’s something in here for everyone. I bet most people who read it will have at least one line that really stands out to them the way that the quote I pulled for the intro stood out to me.

Since I grew up playing tennis and basically worshipping the Williams sisters, I particularly loved the section that talked about all the flak Serena’s had to take as a top female black athlete. Rankine shows a really awesome and sensitive interpretation of some of Serena’s early career “explosions” at umpires who were overly eager to call her serves out of bounds and police her movements on the court. Rather than chalking those outbursts up to the brashness of youth, Rankins suggest they are actually the consequences of microagressions unexpressed.

Throughout her work, Rankine mixes in powerful images, such Glenn Ligon’s 1990 painting in block letters repeating the phrase “I feel most colored when I am thrown against a sharp white background.” Those breaks, along with lots of white space helped me pause as I was reading and know where I could put the book down.

I think Citizen is the kind of work that I’ll probably read pieces of from time to time and take away different meanings. It makes me even more excited to pick up Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me and other recent works that take on some of the BlackLivesMatter issues. I think we’ll be seeing a lot more writing that addresses race issues in the coming years.

4Stars24 out of 5 stars

See a full list of my book reviews here and my book review policy here.

Affirmative Poetry

man writing

Reading books by women of color has been a lifeline for me during difficult times. Or joyous times. Anytime I’m yearning for a sense of connection and orientation to my own experiences picking up a book by Toni Morrison, Louise Erdrich, or Jesmyn Ward is grounding for me.

So I was confused and upset to find out about white poet Michael Derrick Hudson appropriating the name of a Chinese American woman, Yi-Fen Chou, to get his work into the latest version of The Best American Poetry. Using the pseudonym of a woman of color is a strategy that he claims to have used whenever he had a hard time getting published under his own name. He says this is quite a successful tactic.

The atrocious pattern got revealed by Sherman Alexie, who guest edited The Best American Poetry anthology and made the tough decision to include Hudson’s poem after he found out about the misrepresentation. Alexie included a letter alongside the poem that described what happened and why he decided to run the poem anyway. He said that he did favor Hudson’s poem partially because of the Chinese American female pseudonym and that he didn’t want all of the poems within the anthology questioned by pulling Hudson’s.

Understandably, Alexie’s decision didn’t sit well with some, and I have to admit I’m a little torn about it myself. Alexie did point out that “nepotism” among writers of color is just like the nepotism that white writers have been perpetuating among themselves for ages, rather than being some unprecedented and unfair action.

But he could have gone a little further than saying his selection choice wasn’t that important. He could have said that it was a big deal for him to choose a Chinese American woman, because everyone’s story matters and there have been so many barriers to people of color getting published that some affirmative action in the literary world is a good thing.

If no one made an effort to publish the women of color authors that have mattered so much to me, who knows where I would have found those guiding voices. And I reject the idea that people of color are inferior writers to white writers. There’s plenty of room in the world for Hudson’s poems, and we’re learning to make more room for the real Yi-Fen Chou’s also. Plus, I don’t hear women of color complaining every time they get rejected from a publication, even though I’d bet that happens much more disproportionately. Rejection isn’t fun for anyone, but it’s a part of the writer life.