Asa or Forrest

After the death of his parents, five-year-old Forrest “Little Tree” Carter found himself adopted by his Cherokee grandmother and part-Cherokee grandfather. His grandparents own a home deep in the hollows of a mountain, and that's where Little Tree follows them to learn the ways of the Cherokee.  Said ways are about living off and respecting nature.  

Honoring one's ancestors and finding encouragement through their stories also takes part in Little Tree's lessons.  Little Tree also learns/experiences the often problematic nature of his heritage, and how it relates to the white man’s view of Native Americans and their history/role in the America. A book with little to no conflict, The Education of Little Tree is mostly a romanticized example of what it meant to be Native American during The Great Depression as well as growing up thoroughly connected with Nature.

Sounds like a bubbly and syrupy summary, right? Well, the truth is that I don't know how to take this novel, after reading the history behind the author and the book itself. And it’s really, truly funny because I was about a quarter away from the end (having not researched a thing about the book/author) before I decided I was tired of feeling like there was an undertone of patronization taking place. It turns out, I was on to something. That niggling feeling wasn't there for no reason.

Here’s what I learned about this book, published in the late 70’s:

1. While the book is (or was upon its initial publication) touted as an autobiography/memoir, the author is not Native American.

2. The author was white, and apparently a ku klux klan member

3. The author was somewhat forceful in his segregation views. Which isn't much of a surprise when you take in Little Tree’s encounter with black people in the book?

And that’s just to name a few nuggets of information I've gathered. If I hadn't plucked the book from the non-fiction section at Barnes & Nobles, I may have been more or less baffled. I jumped into it thinking it was a memoir of a young Native American kid learning some hard and heart-filled lessons surrounding his heritage, but instead I got an illusion. A lie. However, halfway through I started to pick up that something wasn't right, and then, as I said, a quarter away from the end was when I felt like the voice was sort of patronizing.  It was an almost condescending and kiddy-glove approach to illustrating Native American culture. Everything seemed too charming. Too surreal. Too vividly told, yet simple at the same time. And most of all, a touch too stereotypical.

So I don't know where I stand with this book. I liked it enough that from a storytelling standpoint, it won me completely. But I honestly just… don't… know….  There's speculation as to the author's intent (his real name is Asa Earl Carter).  However, I don't have it in me to figure it out.  So I might as well move on.

~ 1. Back 2 High School–Towel Style ~

Now this is hilarious. It started out really quite simple: I needed an eyeglass repair kit–but not for eyeglasses. I needed to replace my cell phone’s USB charger port and had all the equipment in one kit, including a useless micro screwdriver. So convinced that I had another one in an eyeglass repair kit, I scoured my room searching. Eventually, I dived into my closet, pulled out a couple of plastic storage crates, and ran across this old comic I drew back in my junior year of high school. It’s where I started to develop and understand this character that’s been in my head all my life. Her name is Towel. (Nicknamed if you will.) She’s young. Highly misunderstood. Stubborn. A romantic. Senseless and often times forgetful. However, most of all, she’s a hero. She’s lived and manifested in many different forms and appearances. Many different races. Many different occupations. Nonetheless, she’s always been influenced by my love of Sailor Moon, Buffy and a variety of other forms and medias that represent women in power.

So it took me a while, but I finally whipped out my scanner, thinking it would be cool to share some of these scans just for the hell of it. It’s rough. It’s hard.  It's random and confusing.  It’s impulsively drawn. But it’s here. So be tickled.  And sorry that some areas are cut off. My scanner isn't that large.

And no. I never found that eyeglass repair kit. Therefore, I was left making a run to the Dollar Store for one.  However, eventually I got my phone repaired.

I’ll release these in a series of 5 per posts...

What other way to introduce Towel other than to make her late for school?  Why was she late?  Because she was busy admiring a dress.  Heavily–and I mean heavily–influenced by Naoko Takeuchi and Miwa Ueda's work, I placed her in a sailor-style uniform just like Japanese students.  Which only exacts her locale.  

While I was rarely late for school/class, I will say that I was not liked by a couple of teachers for other reasons.  Like Towel, I kind of didn't have a filter on my mouth.  I remember one English teacher calling me out because I proclaimed "this sucks" during one dull, boring class period.  It really was boring listening to her read out of some book.  However, school was like that for me; I was always bored.  And though I've always tried, I find it hard to hold back how I feel.  Especially when it comes to the urge to create.

While she may be located in Japan, Towel definitely had my Southern wit.  I also want to mention how, as it regards manga/anime, characters who have blond hair and blue eyes are not necessarily considered white.  In fact, you'll know when a white/foreign character is present in either form, because of the difference in his/her appearance and behavior.  However, the obvious is a silly caricature of say an American or Russian.  

I never really saw Towel as white, mixed maybe.  Eventually she became a black character who dyed her hair blond.  Why blond?  Because Minako/Sailor Venus is yellow-headed of course.  Plus, the color is so light that it's easiest to product and hide mistakes over.

I've always loved these little character introductions in manga.  A quick, running page of information regarding the star and her buddies.  Clip (later changed to Klip) and Cornbread (we'll talk about him later) were always the characters I had in mind as Towel's best friends.  Both have changed tremendously over the years.  Something I'll realize more and more of as I re-read these early introductions.  

Nonetheless, back to Towel.  I wanted Towel to be sporty, unlike myself.  So I made her a basketball player (like my sister at the time) and a gymnasts (so she could do flips like the original Pink Ranger).  She loves to write, which is something that did come from myself.  Ultimately, I shot for well-rounded.

And here enters a character inspired by Naoko Takeuchi's Rei Hino (my second favorite senshi), or other known as Sailor Mars.  She becomes Towel's school rival and later something else entirely.

Perhaps now's the time to ask that you stay tuned for the next half...

#ReadSoulLit ~ Sisters in Crime

#ReadSoulLit is a Black History Month project organized by booktuber, Frenchiedee.  When Frenchie reached out and asked did I want to contribute to the project, I didn't hesitate.  I most certainly did.  And when she asked what I would do my video on, with so much ease I said black women writing black women in crime fiction.  And what a project this turned out to be.  I stressed for about three weeks, then one day got tired and decided to just jump up and do me.  Now, I have to share the videos here with you all.  I've drained myself a little putting this one together.  So I hope you all enjoy...

#ReadSoulLit ~ Sisters in Crime 1: Where I'm Coming From...

#ReadSoulLit ~ Sisters in Crime 2: Their Stories...

When Bored With a Book...

...Buy more.  That's right.  I'm bored to tears with Chang-Rae Lee's On Such a Full Sea.  If Obsession in Death hadn't released to interrupt the process, I may have walked this week finishing absolutely nothing.  Nonetheless, I've bought plenty and think it's time I put Lee aside for the time being.  No, seriously.  On Such a Full Sea is boring.  Though it's an interesting look at the dystopian theme, it's kind of hard to really connect with as it's told through the first-person plural.  However, it's led by the character of a sixteen-year-old girl who you never really have access to her consciousness throughout its telling.  So I'm on the fence.  Part of me wants to power my way through.  Part of me wants to just give the whole thing up.  Part of me is upset because I loved and was captivated by The Surrendered and hoped this book would be the same.  Nonetheless, I went to the bookstore Friday.  Grabbed the laptop and hung out for awhile before my cousin and I went to our favorite Asian restaurant in the area.  I browsed exclusively in the non-fiction area and walked out with these...

India Calling by Anand Giridharadas substituted for my actual desire for Maximum City by Suketa Metha.  I decided to go into India gently, I suppose.  Hitler's Furies just caught my eye and interest.  Women killers during the Holocausts.  Ouch.

Obsession in Death

So let me set this book up for you, before I get into what I loved about it. Eve Dallas is somewhat of a celebrity cop in New York.  Her and her cases are often featured on the local news as one of New York‘s top homicide lieutenants. Books and movies have featured her cases–and in turn her likeness. And her celebrity comes increasingly valid with a billionaire husband at her side. So without a doubt, Eve is as profile as they come.  The problem is while many hate her (which is an understatement), some admire her. And some admiration comes with a deadly (another understatement) and twisted psychology. 

In Obsession in Death Eve has become the object of someone’s personal fixation. A fixation so apparent and disturbing that this person believes they must kill for Eve, to show and express the value of their “relationship.” The killings are about justice. Respect. They are offerings to Eve, and it becomes all the more evident as each murder relates back to suspects and victims from Eve’s old cases.  Obviously, Eve doesn’t appreciate these offerings. And it’s only a matter a time before their killer turns completely on Eve.  Hence... Obsession in Death.

It’s here. It’s done. Finally, all caught up on J. D. Robb’s In Death series. I thank those who've followed along on this semi-obsessive compulsive journey, as I read my way through four books until arriving at Obsession in Death‘s release on February 10th (where I snatched it a Kroger‘s after filing my income taxes; I had to get Kosher hot dogs anyway). I would go on about my grateful pleasure to those who've kept up with me, but I think I've said enough over the past two months.  Therefore, I'm going to make this quick. 

Obsession in Death is not only the 40th book, but it also marks the twentieth anniversary since the In Death series began with Naked in Death‘s publication on July 1st, 1995. (I'm always amazed, seeing that I was only twelve-years-old on that day.) That’s twenty years and still going; not too many series covering any genre have that longevity. Furthermore, the cool thing in all this realization regards how Obsession seems to recognize the series' hero and its own history. It’s the book that looks closely at the character and evolution of Eve Dallas herself. It’s the book that takes nods to previous cases, previous victims and suspects as well as old, crooked wounds within some of the cast.  It looks back at Eve's relationship with others, and even takes us back to Eve's apartment where she resided at the beginning of it all. I found it somewhat of a tribute to the series–a celebration of sorts. And it was a thrill that easily out beat its predecessor, Festive in Death.  I found myself very much standing at two in the morning to read the book.  I didn't want to get comfortable, I didn't want to sleep.  From start to finish it was a ride–both the syrupy sentimental and a plot that races the clock kind.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Girl, What? Welcome, Ms. Hayes

I'm a little beside myself because I researched Charlotte Carter’s Nanette Hayes three-book series a number of times only to jump into it with the second book, Coq au Vin. I ordered it thinking it’s the first, which is actually Rhodes Island Red. And you know how anal retentive I am, finding it necessary to read series in order. Not exactly sure what happened, but I’m here and will go back to give this series a proper start. In the future.  So despite my misstep, I did enjoy Coq au Vin and my introduction into Carter’s New York native, jazz playing, smack-talking amateur sleuth, Nanette Hayes.

So until I can go back and speak about this series from the start, I'd better go ahead and begin where I am.

Nanette’s Aunt Vivian has always been a men-loving, money-hungry firecracker. And now she’s an international one, having left America for Paris years ago to indulge in her impulses. She has since gone rogue from a family that didn't too much care for her ways to begin with. Nonetheless, she’s always had a special relationship with her niece, Nanette “Nan” Hayes. So when Aunt Vivian sends a postcard and a telegram to Nanette’s mother relying danger, the family can't help but worry. Yet… they also sigh with exhaustion. While Nanette’s father wants nothing else to do with his sister, it’s Nanette’s mother who gives her daughter the task of seeking out her aunt in Paris. And it would've been easy to reject if Nanette didn't have the added responsibility of handing Vivian her inheritance. Unfortunately, by the time Nanette lands in France, Aunt Vivian has long been missing.

Coq au Vin takes you places. Places where you may forget what’s happening in the book as it relates to the mystery and/or purpose of Nanette in Paris. There are even moments when Nanette took note of how un-progressive she’s been in regard to finding her aunt, usually because she‘s busy sexing up her Paris boyfriend or looking for a place to eat. So in that situation, it never felt like a story with much at stake or any urgency as Nanette fluttered about Paris semi-sorta taking stock of little clues related to her aunt‘s disappearance. Simply put, Carter sprinkled the setup in the beginning, and it wasn't until near the end where it felt as if she crammed in her focus.

So instead, between those two points, more than once I felt like I verged off into a Parisian instant-love story, a black-conscience dialogue (which was the best), or a music history lecture. The book comes loaded with the history of blues and jazz music, from America to Paris. Topped with descriptions of Paris's locales as well, which wouldn't be so bad if you're familiar with the city and didn't require a little research. It goes into the world of the Paris jazz scene also. From the streets to the night clubs. However, you may find yourself wondering, repeatedly, why am I here and what’s the progress of the mystery, or the catalysis to all of these events. And personally, I'm always startled in a mystery book when a protagonist gathers a lead, but decides to go to a nightclub to dance instead of chasing it down. Focus, people. Focus.

The surprises along the way are limited. Some that I conceived would've probably really set the book off. Nonetheless, at last, it all sort of came together, except for a few characters who went off and were never heard from again. While I was over Nanette’s outbursts and arguments, I can say that she made a fantastic protagonist. Especially because she’s black, a woman, and is aware of both these things and how she relates–and is seen–by the world. Even in a place miles away from her New York roots.

I'll leave a few of my favorite moments from Nanette down below…

"Like every musician, probably, I had often wondered what it was like to play high on drugs.  All the cornball stuff crosses your mind:  does the heroin unlock some door in your soul?  Does it makes you better?  I don't just mean, does it make you play better.  I mean, are you better, however briefly

For all my musical forefathers, it had to do more than just make the pain go away.  God.  Negroes and their pain.  What the fuck were we going to do if suddenly it all did go away?  Would be even know who we were anymore?"

"I wanted to say something more than that, but I couldn't quite form the words yet.  The permutations of our relationship to the whole of America were endless.  You could hate white people but not hate America.  You could come to terms with the racism but never accept the insipid culture.  You could view our disenfranchisement as a kind of massive swindle–all that blood, sorrow, loyalty, hope, and patience deposited over the centuries, and the check keeps bouncing.  You could simply self-destruct.  Like I said, endless.  I figured I'd hear the particulars of his take on the thing soon enough."

"'My blackness is not open to challenge.  My father was black, so that means I'm black.  Period.  I guess what I mean is, my people deserve to be honored by me, and I'm serious about doing that–but I deserve some honor too, right?  Who doesn't?'"

February Housekeeping

It’s Saturday. It’s relatively warm. The sun is out. And I only had to work a quick four–though mildly nerve-wracking–hours on the job. A new episode of Ghost Adventures comes on tonight. I have no plans and don’t care to make any. So what did I do? I went to the bookstore. I had a few ideas in mind, but I mostly went in there blind and ready to browse at my leisure. No pressure, except that emptiness in my stomach alerting me that I didn't have lunch. Just shelf after shelf of… well… looking. As always, I first stopped in the non-fiction section, particularly the area concerning Asian and African (hyphen the two as you will) studies as well as Native American history. And I saw plenty there, but waited and browsed around some more with a couple of those books in mind. 

I wanted to avoid the Mystery and Sci-Fi/Fantasy section. Mystery because I have plenty of them, as they're a well that never runs dry here. Sci-Fi/Fantasy because I can never seem to find what I really want to read about in the genre. I was not–and I mean not–in the mood for female characters sexing it up with werewolves and vampires. Forget that!

I decided to hit the general fiction area blind, but not-so blind as I had my Amazon Wishlist app open like a Geiger counter. My experience with Chang-Rae Lee’s The Surrendered was a clear voice in my head–no doubt. It’s a voice that I tried and tried to fight by picking up another by Ruth Ozeki (after reading A Tale for the Time Being a few years ago, I wanted to go back to another of hers) and fell into shock when I found Junichiro Tanizaki‘s The Makioka Sisters there and available right at my fingertips. For a while, I walked around with Toni Morrison’s Home. Richard Wright’s Rite of Passage hung in there also.  

Like Rebbie Jackson, I was "Ready For Love."  I walked around with a set of three books. Put two back. Walked with one. I reverted back around and picked up one that I let down. I stood in the aisles contemplating prices and mood. And after some unknown amount of time I ended up with these…

Evidently, I couldn't resist that voice for another Chang-Rae Lee novel.  The Education of Little Tree, by Forrest Carter, went to war between The Ways of My Grandmothers by Beverly Hungry Wolf and Maximum City: Bombay Lost and Found by Suketu Mehta.  Hirohito and the Making of Modern Japan by Herbert P. Bix is still stuck on my list.  Nevada Barr’s Track of the Cat just kind of happened.  I wandered into the mystery section (who the hell was I kidding?) and recognized its familiar cover from my Amazon Wishlist.  It’s the first in her Anna Pigeon park ranger series.  I figured I wouldn't find it anywhere else in such a condition.

So there we are.  I look forward to sharing my experience with these books in the future.  Can you guess which I'll crack open tonight?  Hmmm...