School Book Round-up

Do you remember this photo, which I first published here back in February?

Back then, I said I might write more about these books later. Well, now seems an appropriate time. There are only two more class periods this semester, so I’m almost done with Introduction to African American Studies. I have class on Tuesday, then again on Thursday, and my final, 12-page paper is due by 5:00 on the 15th. So, yeah, 95% finished.

Here’s a review of the books, in the order I was assigned to read them, to help my loyal reader[s] decide what to read while they’re at the beach this summer…

The Making of African America (Ira Berlin)

An enjoyable kick-off to the semester. This book appealed to my love of history; it’s an account of the four “great” migrations of persons of African descent in America. Berlin’s comparisons between the four migrations are a bit strained at times, and he insists on offering four examples every god-damned time he needs an example. For example (ha!), at one point he was discussing music, and then he offered four examples of music that came out of each migration. That’s not so bad, but when it happens eight times in ten pages, it gets old. Also, he repeats himself a lot. In class I mentioned how he said nearly the same sentence three times within two pages. That got a chuckle out of my classmates. The ones who were awake.

A Mercy (Toni Morrison)

Some lower-class white guy in the 1600s mail-orders a bride, stumbles ass-backwards into owning a black, female slave, and somehow has a Native American woman tagging along with him. One of them was pregnant, too. Then he dies. Then there’s, like, 100 pages left in the book where this United-Nations-of-women have to try to make a life for themselves in an extremely patriarchal society. Or, at least I think that’s what the novel was about. I couldn’t figure it out. It had this stream-of-consciousness feel to it, a gimmick authors use to get readers to think it’s a cool book. I, on the other hand, don’t think it’s a cool book/film/TV show unless I can at least figure out what the heck is going on. We had to write an in-class paper on this novel, and I got an A-, so maybe there isn’t anything to get. Skip it. 

Twelve Years a Slave (Solomon Northup)

I wrote about this book back in March, so go read that AT THIS LINK. It’s not exactly well-written; Northup isn’t a master of English by any means, and he has that ubiquitous 19th-century habit of spoiling his story before he gets to it. Still, it was an engaging telling of an important story. If you read only one book from the above pile, make it this one.

Women, Race, & Class (Angela Davis)

Davis provides a compelling glance at the struggle of rights in America, particularly how women’s rights and civil rights intersected. The book told about, for instance, how not all abolitionists believed in equal rights for women, and not all women believed black people should be allowed to vote. Davis is also a Marxist, so she paints pretty much every historical figure in a negative light. Unless they’re a communist. Then she loves them. She later conflates reproductive rights to mean “the right to prevent or end pregnancy.” Then she moans about the for-profit structure of our marketplace. I’m sure Davis gives all the profits from this book to charity. Or Cuba.

Brothers and Keepers (John Edgar Wideman)

Well, this could have been an awesome book. A true-life account of two brothers: one is a college professor, the other is serving life in prison. It’s written by the brother who’s the professor. Unfortunately, Wideman turns the book into a self-indulgent diary. He spends 12 consecutive pages, for example, detailing his drive to the prison to visit his brother. His brother, who has the more interesting tale, gets about 15-20% of the book. In between, Wideman uses every literary device he can conjure, and spends big chunks of the book telling readers about minutiae that is probably interesting to no one. Like when he whines about the day he took a shortcut to the prison once, and how that really messed up his day. When we discussed this in class, I said, “He’s trying to tell us how tough life is with a sibling behind bars, but all I could think was: how awesome is your life that taking a shortcut is the worst thing that happened to you all day?” Wideman is an award-winning novelist, and it shows in two ways. One, the book’s structure is akin to a novel, which isn’t such a bad thing and, two, it’s obvious Wideman has the clout to circumvent the editorial process, which is a bad thing. If he’d been a first-time author, and an editor had trimmed this tome down to, say, 150 pages, with Wideman’s brother doing closer to 50% of the talking, then it would be endorsable.

From Black Power to Hip Hop (Patricia Hill Collins)

It’s not about black power or hip hop. And I’m not just saying that: Hill Collins comes right out and says that in her bloated introduction, which uses ten pages to tell readers what the subsequent six chapters will include. I skipped most of those ten pages, figuring they were redundant spoilers, then I read the first four chapters. Then I skimmed the last two. I think Hill Collins is trying to say some interesting things here, but every sentence is so dense, I just didn’t have time to pause after each period and digest what I’d read. Needless to say, I didn’t finish it. I therefore neither endorse nor denounce it.