Tao and Oneness

To change my scenery a bit, I took my laptop notebook to a window door.  From my position on the floor, legs tucked over a dark green fleece blanket, I see that our grass needs cutting in all its sound greenery.  There’s also that tree stump created last winter.  It hosts a small cluster of mushrooms where a butterfly currently keeps dipping on and off.  The two weeks worth of recyclables are parked at the curb, the bin and the plastic trash can filled with empty bottles of zero calorie drinks, 20oz water bottles, and Kashi cereal boxes.  A FedEx truck just raced by, and I wish there was something for me to receive as I sit writing, continuing to find ways to bring comfort to this thing called life.

I was a little hesitant to sit before my neighborhood with my notebook, seeing that a couple of years ago our neighborhood was hit by a group of teens breaking into homes.  Unfortunately, I became a victim of said teens when they got into my new, used car and took the non-operational stereo out.  It recently came to my attention that they have long been caught.  Two of them found themselves on the receiving end of a bullet fired from strapped homeowners in another area of the city.  The two survived their karmic twists.

So why am I sharing all this?  Why am I bringing up my lawn, a butterfly, recycling, and thieves?  Because I find it the appropriate time to look back and discuss the Tao’s second chapter/verse through the translation of Derek Lin and Dr. Wayne Dyer’s interpretations.  It is here that we acknowledge some of the good and the bad in life, and how it is kind of unnecessary to gnaw on their differences when they both come and arrive from the same source.

Derek Lin’s translation goes as:

When the world knows beauty as beauty, ugliness arises

When it knows good as good, evil arises

Thus being and non-being produce each other

Difficult and easy bring about each other

Long and short reveal each other

High and low support each other

Music and voice harmonize each other

Front and back follow each other

Therefore the sages:

Manage the work of detached actions

Conduct the teaching of no words

They work with myriad things but do not control

They create but do not possess

They act but do not presume

They succeed but do not dwell on success

It is because they do not dwell on success

That it never goes away

Wayne Dyer's read as:

Under heave all can see beauty as beauty,

only because there is ugliness.

All can know good only because there is evil.

Being and nonbeing produce each other.

The difficult is born in the easy.

Long is defined by short, the high by the low.

Before and after go along with each other.

So the sage lives openly with apparent duality

and paradoxical unity.

The sage can act without effort

and teach without words.

Nurturing things without possessing them,

he works, but not for rewards;

he competes, but not for results.

When the work is done, it is forgotten.

That is why it lasts forever.

What can we say is the meaning behind this verse?  Of course it depends on your personal interpretation.  However, I got the sense that it coincides with the expression that “everything is everything” or “it is what it is.”  I believe the key terms between both verses are “each other”, “duality", "unity", and "success."  So how inspiring the better person can be to acknowledge the parallels we see daily in life and nature, and accept them equality.

And because I tend to over think, I must go on...  

A single thing, concept, idea, or existence can’t be labeled or called such without the recognition of its opposite--even by its opposite.  Dyer points out an example in this chapter where he asks the question: “Has it ever occurred to you that beauty depends on something being identified as ugly?”  With that said, the idea of beauty has also fashioned the idea of ugly, just like life can generate the idea of death.  Good can conjure up the meaning of evil.  Male knows of female.  It is almost like saying we/life live in a grayness where we/life possess even the things we sometimes reject or judge unfairly.  According to the Tao, or my thinking/seeking, these possessions are all necessary in their oneness.

I think we as humans may be the only animals that place focus on these differences.  Seriously, like Dyer says, “the daffodil doesn't think that the daisy is prettier or uglier than it is.”  Why would it when--as a plant--it simply just is?  Nevertheless, we do the opposite of it every day to other people, and in view of some of their circumstances.  We’re all guilty, and I can be honest in saying that I don’t know how I can reach such a state of perceiving.  Especially in a time where I am so busy trying to change my life as thoughts rush pass me while I speed along.

But I think one of the keys here is to live and respond with good intent toward others.  This allows comfort within yourself that you don’t necessarily have to justify yourself to no one.  Half the time not even to yourself.  What you like is what you like.  Who you are is who you are.  All you can do at the end of the day is do good and be.  So why waste so much time fighting those who do the same?

A complicated mess, but thank you so much for reading. (^.^)

Sources:

Dyer, Wayne W. Change Your Thoughts, Change Your Life: Living the Wisdom of the Tao.  Carlsbad, CA: Hay House, 2007.

Lin, Derek. "Accurate Translation of the Tao Te Ching." Accurate Translation of the Tao Te Ching. N.p. .

Multicultural'ing Through Manga

Okay, so there are a multitude of avenues people can explore to bond themselves with members of different cultures/ethnicities. I am one of those people who wish he could take them all. I mean, everyday we see people finding ways to learn from other people with all discrepancies aside. So I write this in the wake of watching cultural expressions/performances via foreign television shows, wishing for the opportunity to once again trade ideas with someone foreign to my cultural background. I am almost anxious for the opportunity.  Seeking a fresh connection outside of my past memories.


I suppose food is an obvious choice for cultural exploration because it allows easy access for people to share and discuss the variety in their taste.  It also enables a glimpse into cultural traditions and unique dish-making techniques. Sharing literature is another tool of cultural discovery.  It opens the doors of communication, comprehension, and acknowledgement of differences that could equate to similarities. A given to sharing cultures is building relationships and connections.  Healthy relationships with people can transcendent just about any barrier when we put work into it. So to do so with someone of another culture not only awakens awareness in each person involved, but it also builds community. And I don’t know about you, but I’ve always wanted to live next to people who have something external to teach the internalness of me.

When I was in high school I learned much of this firsthand from a girl who became a good friend of mine for a short period. She was a foreign student from China named, Amy. Now, I had many American friends from Asianic backgrounds, so there never was a blockage of language. Despite the thick language barrier I had with Amy, I learned to connect with her through books and comics. While she was not necessarily shy, she was not forward in seeking friendships either. In other words she would smile at you, but you would have to come to her. 

When I found her reading a manga (though manga is Japanese for “comic“, her version was translated to Chinese which would be better defined as manhua), I was generally curious about the writing, pictures, and content. She shared them with me.  I found myself intimated by the Chinese characters, regardless of being moderately proficient at reading Japanese Hiragana and Katakana. Chinese characters just seemed too compound; difficult and hard. The strokes appeared far more bulky and indecipherable in print than the Japanese I was familiar with, which mainly came out of children's books should that count for something. Nevertheless, Amy and I found ourselves friends as she best explained Chinese characters to me, while I shared my longhand short stories tucked within my binder in return. 

We saw each other in home economics, which almost always offered us free time. So each day became a matter of me explaining some of the intricacies behind the English alphabet system, and its grammatical structure, as an extra help to her schoolwork concerns. Meanwhile, Amy taught me about Chinese language (or Mandarin) in the most basic, simplified way that she could for my thick skull to register. She opened me up to researching the four pitch tones associated with her language as part of our dialect exchanges.

Our friendship continued to grow through the exchanging of language. She would hastily “read” my Japanese-language books (as well as my English-written short stories) that I received from the public library, and I would borrow her manhua and Chinese-language novels. We became good friends, her sharing doughnut with red bean paste snacks while I shared with her my less than exotic Doritos. When our classes changed the following year we met at the school library to continue our friendship, but we slowly lost touch as our high school years progressed.  Then at some point, she graduated before my class.  Her memories and little lessons still stay inside of me. I mean, this was the girl who introduced me to the manhua version of Naoko Takeuchi’s Sailor Moon.

There were many factors that played into my friendship with Amy, the foreigner student. Despite our cultural and ethnic differences, one of those factors was a conscious decision to explore our differences through our common interests. We removed any set of bias thoughts to do so, aware that there is something to be learned from both ends.  Call me exhausted or jaded with my present environment, but nothing would give me more pleasure than to experience something as special as that again.  Which is reason number 107 as to why I wanted to start a blog.  Much love, people.

Book/Manga Chat 1

Why of course Towel & Cornbread is a blog about books, manga, and the various methods I like to share concerning self-help.  So to tie those in, I’ve posted my recent book chat video.  Inside I discuss books by Gloria Naylor and Laurell K Hamilton (who I should do a blog post on because of my love-hate relationship for her Anita Blake series).  I touch a little on Naoko Takeuchi’s Sailor Moon English reissue of volume 12, as well as some bonus material from the depths of my general interest.

The Men of Brewster Place - Gloria Naylor
Linden Hills - Gloria Naylor
Mama Day - Gloria Naylor
Bailey’s Café - Gloria Naylor
Affliction - Laurell K. Hamilton
Sailor Moon 12 - Naoko Takeuchi
Time and Eternity - NIS America
Songversation - India.Arie

Canon American Literature? Or Not?

People usually relate what makes American Literature American to authors such as Hemingway, Faulkner, and Fitzgerald (to name a small few). These are the authors persistently taught in American schools, analyzed in American colleges, and referred to as sources of inspiration to up-and-coming American writers. These authors are more than likely viewed as the “essence” of American literature because they contain sharp expressions of what it means to be American (though I believe that's individual-based) and to have the freedom to purse a destiny with pride.  Hemingway often wrote of soldiers, faith, and what it means to be honest.  Faulkner wrote about America’s south and the importance of individuals maintaining his or her memories during times of change.  So one could even state that American classics usually impressed a sense of patriotism, instilled by characters that are normally Caucasian.

So then is there really a such thing as American Literature canon? I believe literary canon refers to literature that distinctly represents a period of time in American history. Therefore, this literature becomes a critical educational tool, especially when it unveils candid examples of civil discord within certain American ethnic groups.  However, whereas American literature undoubtedly consists of diversity, there are many who consider the classics (Faulkner, Hemingway, Fitzgerald) as sole literary canon writers. Because these “canons” are frequently taught in schools and upheld to represent American literature, it can reflect in society in two fashions: bias and suppression of detailed history. Unless taught specifically within a certain curriculum, students are probably less likely to become exposed to examples of Holocaust survivors residing, within their inner struggle, on American soil. Furthermore, African-American literature, featuring the exploitation of slavery leading into the civil right wars, is a teaching tool sometimes glossed upon.  You can call it a blank theory of mine, but it wasn't until college that literary diversity was bumped up to the level of necessary and encouraged.  Therefore, much of the fore mentioned information is taught in history books, but because of that it lacks the emotion and honest engagement that literature provides. It is seen as facts and not so much needed stories. 

In many respects, ethnic authors have to “beat” Americans’ view of canon literature so that the ethnic perspective within this idea of canon literature can be told clearly.  Examples may be disapproval of exposing Latino-American‘s poor treatment in America, or quieting Japanese-Americans from revealing the atrocities of living in an internment camp during World War II while German and Italian-Americans were not. Ethnic writers also have the challenge of not creating misunderstandings between groups and history.  Additional challenges are finding only niche readerships, and failing underneath mainstream literature. However, these writers must maintain the honesty of their material, considering the biggest challenge is consciously representing the ethnic groups in which their cultural background resides. 

With that said, ethnic writers define literature by remaining honest to their experience. While the canon of traditional American literature defines the representations/reflections of a specific time, ethnic writers must also define him or herself within literature by using the same canon approach from an opposite viewpoint. In turn, this enlightens the scope of past (as well as changing) American events.  It's sort of like you can't read about the Civil War from Stephen Crane’s The Red Badge of Courage without following up reading slave narratives, such as Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl. Each are canon representations of their time periods and American history. Because American is a country that inspires ethnic diversity, it must respect that diversity in its teachings of canon literature.  Or what have you.

Seven Months of Contentment

As many people know I absolutely love Korea dramas and this is my new favorite actor, Jeong Kyeo Woon. He is currently playing in the drama Wonderful Mama, which is a drug to your soul kind of TV show that we all have. Get your HuluPlus and Drama Fever accounts running, people!

Okay, okay. So this has absolutely no purpose other than to be exactly where it is in this moment to postmark the start of my eighth month of doing blog posts. I went from only doing one post a month to having multiples in the months of June and July. The muse was just kicking at me to express (read, write and paint) every little thing that came to me. Plus, it is just fun sharing my thoughts where I once kept them to myself, or to those who sought my advice. Really, it’s all been great and I have lists and drafts ready for takeoff.

The picture may simply signify my content (isn’t that his expression?) of these seven months, making Towel & Cornbread halfway to becoming a year old. I did not know where I was going to start; I just knew I had to do so.  Speaking of which, I’ve had some questions as to what the name Towel & Cornbread meant.  They are names based off characters that I created years ago in my high school years (see June‘s “Do You”post).  While that is still true, I also recall a story I wrote and sent to literary agencies some years ago.  I’ll admit that it was not good material.  Whose is?  Anyhow, there was one agent who made a subtly ugly comment about my choice in character names.  I was aware of this possiblity, but I sent the story out anyway.  I was glad to get the letter because only now--in this moment--I truly see that Towel & Cornbread is about accepting your quirky individuality and sticking with it.  It’s about taking that acceptance and still managing to show up to life with it pinned to you like a badge stating: Damnit! I am here and you will hear me!

So everyone. Keep believing in yourself and creating spaces where you can show up to your life. 

Can We See Success in the Fine Details of Our Lives?

"She wasn’t insane,” Braithwaite said. “True insanity, as frightening as it might be, gives a sort of obliviousness to the chaos in a life. People who commit suicide are struggling to order their existence, and when they see it’s a losing battle, they will finalize it rather than have it wrenched from them. Insanity wouldn’t permit that type of clarity. Laurel Dumont died as deliberately as she lived, believe me. And I could tell she was on that path months ago.”

First, I apologize if I spoiled anything above and further along.  The posted passage comes from Gloria Naylor's novel Linden Hills. Mark it on your summer reading list if you have not read it by now. It is very much worthy of your attention.

I suppose I should first summarize the novel before I get into why I chose to post this passage out of the many meaningful and profound ones found in the novel. Those familiar with the author, Gloria Naylor, are most likely familiar with her The Women of Brewster Place book. Some time in the late 80s that novel adapted into a television miniseries starring Oprah Winfrey. It was a story that orbited a set of women living inside a ghetto, or wall-off community. Throughout each woman's story, we chronicle her life, victories, and misfortunes faced within the desolation of the community. So contrast to Brewster Place is Linden Hills where people enjoy a posh living environment. They are the people with the six-figure income and profligate lifestyles. They are of an affluent pedigree, driven by their desire to remain within the confines of a neighborhood as up-market as Linden Hills. The novel highlights the hidden truths within some of the residents of the community, revealing that what glitters is not gold.  Many of these affluent characters are under the bend of Luther Nedeed, whose ancestors settled on the land first, subsequently owning and controlling its properties through his family's realty corporation. His charisma is undeniable in conjunction to his power, so he has influence over the community, much too many of the residents' vexation.

The rest I will leave to those who decide to read the novel because there is so much to explore. Some even wrote essays regarding how Linden Hills parallels to Dante's Inferno. Familiar, but having never read it, I am now interested in Dante's Inferno because of Linden Hills. Backwards?  Maybe.  Depends on what you like.

The passage I posted recounts a successful, well-established character in the novel who found herself depressed and vacated (except for her visiting Grandmother) inside her 12-room Tudor-style home somewhere in the curves of Linden Hills. The character's name was Laurel, and she made most of her fortune holding down an IBM division that consisted mostly of men. However, she also married into prosperity, which led to her relocating into her husband's (an African-American D.A. of the county) family home in Linden Hills.

Naylor did a fantastic job of laying down Laurel's history on how she spent summers with her grandmother in Georgia.  It is here that Laurel would swim in ponds and pirouette to classical music while driven by her muse. Her mother had long since been deceased, and Laurel believed that neither her father nor her step-mother cared too much for her company. She grew up, and it was that same grandmother that she spent summers with who cashed in on her life savings to put Laurel through college.  This paved Laurel’s road to success, and as mentioned, Laurel took a different route other than furthering her love of swimming and music.  Nevertheless, great career, great marriage, wealth, great home, and a committed husband; one would think Laurel knew she had it, but some things are never enough.

Leading to her suicide we--the readers--come to realize that Laurel is very much unhappy for several reasons. One of those reasons is that she does not feel fulfilled in her marriage. This reality comes to her in the form of disenchantment that her husband--as a male--is far more recognized than herself in the Linden Hills community.  She is humbly seen as his wife to her neighbors.  As talented and successful as Laurel is her need for self-validation suddenly acquires a snag.  It is her grandmother who sits up with her for days watching her granddaughter strum classical music out of her piano within her deperession. Seeing that it is a form of unreached therapy and self-validation for her granddaughter, the grandmother suggest Laurel find what she is seeking in blues music by the likes of Bessie Smith and Billie Holliday. An appalled Laurel finds those artist too low class for her taste. Nonetheless, her grandmother maintains that those artists best speak of the troubles Laurel faces within herself.

There seems to be no chance for Laurel as her husband leaves her and friends stop calling.  Then one day Laurel is asked out of her lonely bed by her grandmother, who informs that she has a visitor at the house. Here enters Luther Nedeed who in one conversation tells Laurel that since her husband no longer lives in the house, she would have to move out of the upscale community of Linden Hills. An argument rises and legal threats collide.  However, the powerful Luther's visit turns the final twist of the knife in Laurel.  With her home falling from beneath her, she feels as if nothing in this world is hers anymore. Unable to listen to her grandmother's methods of curing her blues by standing through it till it moves, Laurel takes her life by diving into an empty swimming pool.  Luther Nedeed stood along the corner of the house and watched her take that mortal dive.

Powerful stuff, right? Of course my summarizing this portion of the novel does not give the material justice. Still, the passage and the supporting summary reiterations that success does not necessarily bring happiness to an individual, something we all heard over and over again.  However, the one thing we have to ask ourselves is what is the definition of success, especially for the everyday individual who is out to achieve something to better his or her life?  See, even I can many times take for granted the things that I have, complaining for more when there are people who would give up so much more to have what I have.  I’m fortunate to even be able to read and type this, physically and mentally.  So there are successes in my life, but like many, I do not always see success in the small details of living because I am too preoccupied with obtaining my definition of it.  So despite that glaring revelation, my complaints for more sometimes gather dark contemplations.  Let me spell out that I most certainly do not feel suicidal on such days; Jesus, I would never have the guts.  However, I do wonder what life would be like should I not have to participate in every bit of it?

 "...struggling to order their existence…"

Because of some unfortunate imbalances and torturous individual philosophies of the human experience, can we not ever learn to consider life itself a success?  Or is that not enough?  Is that too impossible a concept?  Is it safe to say that one’s culture is responsible for this?  What is it about trying to make order of life, love, family, health, wealthy, spirituality, and success that should we not obtain this “order” we began to see the uselessness of it all without acknowledging the smaller, fine details?

  

Naylor, Gloria. Linden Hills. New York, N.Y., U.S.A.: Penguin, 1986. Print.

Commentaries on Characters of Color Solving Crimes in Fiction

I would like to present a blog that reveals two short-lived mystery series written by women of color and starring women of color protagonists.  I came across Grace F. Edwards and Judith Smith-Levin (rest in peace) in a search that branched when I discovered Valerie Wilson Wesley's Tamara Hayle detective series.  While Wesley's series lasted eight books, sadly, Edwards and Smith-Levin's respective series were only four books long.  Still, each title gave me everything I looked for in a smart, dedicated woman displaying independent thinking and deductive reasoning when confronted with a puzzling murder mystery.   

Grace F. Edwards wrote the Mali Anderson series.  Based in Harlem, Mali Anderson was a former department cop who found herself fired from the force after punching out a racist/sexist police officer.  In turn, a lawsuit followed after her termination.  Mali spent the majority of her four book series detailing minutiae events concerning the lawsuit’s development.  Meanwhile, Mali set into her purists of receiving her social workers’ Ph.D while dating the one officer who stood by her during her days on the force and its crumbling aftermath.  He was the handsome Tad Honeywell.  Between solving the murders surrounding her hometown of Harlem, Mali also raised her eleven-year-old orphaned nephew, Alvin.  Living with her father, they both went about ensuring that Alvin remained protected from the predators that stalked the streets of Harlem.  Both the murdering and drug affiliated kind I must clarify, considering Mali did everything in her power to keep her nephew from becoming a victim to the streets period.  In the last book Alvin was missing the entire time.  Mali felt it was best to send him on a yacht out of the city, especially when in the previous book things got heavy between Alvin and a neighborhood street pimp.  All of this only brightened my love of the series; social commentaries subtle but at play.  Nevertheless, at any moment you could count on Mali either storming to her family and friends' rescue, or her--quite literally--being hit by a car.  In retrospect, Mali did take a series of beatings book after book.

I loved reading about Mali’s character and do miss her stories.  Unlike Star, who I will detail next, Mali was notas easily distracted by outside interference, including her relationship with Tad.  She was a character that handled much of her circumstances head-on, driven by the desire to protect or avenge the victimized with the use of her brain.  She was not seen as a shining sexy figure that the gender-opposite characters drooled over; therefore, she was most related as a sister to other characters.  She was not an average character either, especially with her aspirations for personal justice ringing clear in her narrative.  There was little titillation in this series outside Mali and Tad’s relationship, and I rather it be that way because too much can scream of author-inferring-character.  Alternatively, Mali spent a good bit of her time speaking on the histories of Harlem, its architecture, and its music scene (her father was a musician).  Because her boyfriend was still a police officer, she would take his advice when necessary, and place it aside when she felt like other tactics would work better.  Remember, she was once a copherself so she felt capable.  This would frustrate Tad, and I liked Mali better for it.  So whereas she was no longer a cop, Mali still did her own thing when the people around her were victims of murderand in need of justice.  She knew the victims of the crimes she faced.  They were of her community, which was all the more reason for her to make the choices she made that risked her life.

Judith Smith-Levin wrote the Starletta Duvall mystery series.  Based in Massachusetts, Starletta Duvall was the a homicide lieutenant who favored going out into the field as opposed to pushing papers at her desk.  In her first mystery, she even went undercover by using her sexy wiles to entrap the culprit of a singular crime.  Similar to Mali, she received her share of departmental flack, particularly as an African-American woman leading a team of homicide detectives.  However, one advantage that she had over Mali was that her father was a well-known police officer who remained honored within the department before his passing.  So nobody really messed with her unlike Mali's ugly situation.  While the respect of her father was often thrown into the mix, the true nature of her winning over many of her teammates was her apparent sexiness and gorgeous looks.  Some of her department buddies would even refer to her as "baby."  Partnered with an Italian-American man named, Dominic Paresi, Star (her nickname) solved a series of four-book cases with his assistants as well as her city's top medical examiner, and local womanizer, Mitchell Grant.  With his blond hair and stunning green eyes, Grant even found himself intrigued by Star, and vice-versa.  Before long, the two were sharing a bed that may possibility be the first display of an interracial couple in this genre of fiction.  Nonetheless, while Star lived alone with a cat, she had her best friend, Vee, and Vee's children to help balance her life.  Many of Star’s cases came handed to her within a professional distance, meaning she was never really one with the victims.  I take that back—there were maybe two I can recall that Star held history with.  Nevertheless, that did not stop Star from pulling out the stops to solve her cases, which she did with a sharp tongue and a stomp that was a hell of a lot more pitiless than her counterpart, Mali.  And I loved every bit of its display.

I loved reading about Star, too.  I must say that the first book’s prologue was unquestionably gruesome.  I feltsick after reading how deeply Smith-Levin describes a murder-in-action.  It was that vivid and scary.  However, the only, and I mean only, thing that threw me off in Smith-Levin’s four-book series was the constant admiration of her character’s looks, body, and authority by male characters, including villains.  This is a glaring observation I seem to pick up on when it happens in any book, and it distracts me each time.  Not to mention how her love interest, Mitchell Grant, was known for sleeping with a variety of women under the umbrella of thought that he was just too amazingly handsome and sophisticated to resist.  Meanwhile, Star just happened to grab him into the commencements of a committed relationship.  However, their relationship only gets more interesting as the series develops and individuals from Mitchell's past starts to walk into the series.  That... I loved.  This might be somewhat of a wild shot, but I did notfind Star suited to be a lieutenant.  Now,this is not to say that I know what the hell such a position requires, but often times I felt like she was playinga role smaller than what she was actually given.  Pardon me if that does not makes sense, but occasionally Star seemed preoccupied with other matters.  Plus, there were moments when she would flipout and resort to tears and vomiting when a particular form of stress came her way.  I will also never understand how in the first book (and a bit in the second) she would go from arriving at a fresh crime scene to sipping wine or eating ice cream at a fine restaurant in one night.  Did she not have a 48-hour window necessary to follow what evidence she had available to her, considering she took the case even as a lieutenant?  Thankfully, most of what I just mentioned leveled out by the third book.  Now, what I did like about Star was that she was much more humorous than Mali, but like Mali, she also took dangerous risks that made for intense readings.  Star got her butt whooped a couple of times also, and did not seem to flinch when she gave lip to the antagonist during the final showdown.  This was a fine series.  I just wish that Smith-Levin had cut away with some of the “golden” character appearances and traits.  

I am sad that both series are short-lived.  While Smith-Levin passed away a few years ago and cannot continue, I believe there is still hope for Grace F. Edwards in digital printing.  Still, nothing can change the greatness and risks these ladies took in writing stories featuring women of color honing intelligence and authority in the face of puzzling crimes and danger.  I say that with complete certainty of that risk when I recall Asian-American crime writer, Tess Gerritsen, mentioning how she was discouraged from making one of her protagonist match her own ethnicity because of the dangers of "low sells."  To me this type of "risk" always implies that no one can identify with the character, which is not necessarily true when I can easily place myself into the lonely shoes of characters like Kinsey Millhone.  Nonetheless, Star and Mali managed to play up on their many strengths for an entertaining series of great books.  I hope that others will find themselves relating to the type of characters, social themes, and settings I many times long to read. 

In closing, I just feel like someone should write about these authors and their characters.  I hate to see great material not receive the attention it deserves.  Should the two have received such in the past, there may have been more books to keep us reading about these women.

Author Image Sources

Grace F. Edwards taken from The Harlem Writers Guild @ http://theharlemwritersguild.org/quotes.htm

Judith Smith-Levin taken from MySpace via Google Search.  Website link unavailable.

You can find all of Mali Anderson Mysteries in E-book format on Amazon @ http://www.amazon.com/Grace-F.-Edwards/e/B001HOI1JA/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1