February 2021, a sad, strange little man
If you just read one or two books a year: Isabel Wilkerson’s Caste.
February is always such an emotional, strange, short little bullet of a month, isn’t it? And this February in particular is the penultimate month before a monumental marking of time — one year of a global pandemic. I keep saying that I feel zen, but it’s not zen, it’s like a lack of feeling, which is also depression, which I already have anyway. Life is a cyclical mess of inequity and anxiety, of grief and loss and tragedy. Life is a bitch, yet she still comes through for us sometimes, presenting a rainbow or unexpected money or a good friend’s advice, just when we need it. The thing that always, always comes through for me are my dear books.
I work with kids who have experienced shitty and traumatic lives from pretty much birth most of the time and I tend to notice that many of them are big readers. I was a big reader as a kid too, because you know what beats your real life? Whatever the hell is going on in a book. Reading gave me perspective too. As a kid, I was most enthralled with historical fiction novels, tragic stories from slavery and the Holocaust. I was unconsciously reminding myself of the power of humanity, the strength of love, and the reality check that my life was not the worst life I could be living.
Black women’s words, their voices, taught me that. Black women have guided and taught and nourished me my entire life, in spite of the fact that I was not raised around any Black people at all, including (especially?) my biological family. I’ve learned so much about my own identity through reading and exploring the written word, even in the past few years.
Reading Black women is not about discipline for me; it’s about indulgence. Letting myself consume book after book penned by the women I feel closest to, most drawn to, most inspired by, is not a chore or a task for me. It’s a treat.
Here’s what I read this month, many of them books written by wonderful, sharp, talented Black women.
[Books I Read With My Eyes]
The Bridges of Madison County by Robert James Waller, published 1992
Quick summary: A photographer comes to town and falls in love with a housewife, who falls in love with him too, mostly told through journal entries.
Okay, so obviously this was not written by a Black woman. (It would be much better if it had been, though.) I wanted to read this very famous novel after watching the movie because I knew it could be a single-day read and because I wanted to see if the writer went deeper into the main character, a housewife who embarks on a love affair with a photographer. I wouldn’t say I liked the book because, of course, the writer doesn’t go any deeper in the book than the filmmakers went in the movie and I forgot how bad the description of a woman can be. The other reason I wanted to read this book is because I was floored when the movie began and Bellingham, Washington is written across Clint Eastwood’s green truck! Bellingham! Where I am from! The town is not a main character but in the book, there are something like ~14 mentions of Bellingham and one of Franklin Street, which is a street I lived on! A! fun! fact!
I actually enjoy the story of Bridges of Madison County and wish the writing at all matched that. For instance, the line, “…and a white cotton t-shirt that did nice things for her body” is so unimaginative, I laughed out loud. And we all know I love a good sex scene but I’m used to reading them written by women, and often, queer women, so this: “she, who had ceased having orgasms years ago, had them in long sequences now with a half-man, half something-else creature,” doesn’t cut it for me. Sorry to that man, RJW, and shoutout to Meryl Streep, who at least tried to give us something to love in a character who has just about no depth.
[fiction, novel, made into a famous movie, written by a white cisgender dude, very short read]
Stranger Faces by Namwali Serpell, published 2020
Quick summary: A collection of essays that challenge how we think of faces.
I’ve had this cover bookmarked in my head for a long time and truthfully didn’t even realize it was nonfiction, but was fascinated by the subject matter immediately. Human (and animal!) faces and how complex and interesting the mutability of them can be is very fascinating. I also appreciate that this book is written by a Black woman and is about a nonfiction subject that is not specifically about race or trauma. Like, there is a whole essay about Hitchcock’s Psycho.
[nonfiction, essays, film studies, written by a Zambian cisgender woman, short read, but complex content]
An American Marriage by Tayari Jones, published 2018
Quick summary: A marriage is challenged when the husband is wrongfully convicted of a crime.
A good tip to read very popular books from the library is to wait on hold forever and then have to return the book before you get to it and then forget about it for a couple of years and then read it! It was worth the wait. I read it in two days because I love nothing more than a great fiction novel that is interesting, reflective, frustrating, and strong. I liked it, from start to finish.
[fiction, written by a Black cisgender woman, medium-length read]
Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents by Isabel Wilkerson, published 2020
Quick summary: Wilkerson makes the case for a caste system in america, with the american south being the birthplace of it.
I was intimidated going into this book, not for its size, though it is dense, but because Wilkerson is so sharp and the word “caste” kind of made me nervous. I know what you’d expect someone who went to school for 12 years or whatever to know about caste systems, which is that it’s a division system, mostly used in India. I’ve rarely thought about america in a caste system, but that’s what Wilkerson presents to us here. I don’t think many people make a subject more interesting than Wilkerson does and this book is rich with her storytelling and research. Viewing america in terms of caste rather than race is an imperfect but helpful way of moving us past a big barrier in these conversations — white peoples’ insistence that they are not racists on an individual level. Sure, some individual white people are not racists, but white people always benefit from being at the top of a caste system where Black people, especially Black women, are at the very bottom. It’s harder to argue against that, or at least it’s a reframing that might be helpful for some white people who posted a couple of anti-racist instagram slides before they felt comfortable enough to move on.
I could quote a million things, but I’ve settled on this one.
“In our era, it is not enough to be tolerant. You tolerate mosquitoes in the summer, a rattle in an engine, the gray slush that collects at the crosswalk in winter. You tolerate what you would rather not have to deal with and wish would go away. It is no honor to be tolerated. Every spiritual tradition says love your neighbor as yourself, not tolerate them.”
[historical nonfiction, written by a Black cisgender woman, long, dense read]
Sweat by Lynn Nottage, published 2017
Quick summary: A few factory workers who are also regulars at a bar (the main scene) struggle with changes in the industry.
Lynn Nottage was the first (and is still the only) woman to win the Pulitzer for Drama twice, and once was for Sweat, so I was interested in reading it. I’m not a ~theater person~ in that I never studied it so reading plays doesn’t really mean much to me other than they are something I can read very quickly, but this one transcended its format and I often forgot I was reading straight lines of dialogue.
[fiction, play, written by a Black cisgender woman, short read]
Acolytes by Nikki Giovanni, published 2007
Quick summary: Poems!
I don’t always have the right state of mind to consume poetry, but this was lovely and Nikki Giovanni is just as talented as I’ve heard my whole life. Having never read one of her poetry collections, just one-offs here and there, I am glad I finally did.
[poems, written by a Black cisgender woman, short read]
Transcendent Kingdom by Yaa Gyasi, published 2020
Quick summary: A novel about a Ghanaian family living in Alabama.
I love Yaa Gyasi’s Homegoing and had full faith in her follow-up. One of this novel’s main themes is the protagonist’s complicated feelings around evangelism and the belief in god and the bible vs. science, especially considering she is studying medicine at Stanford. I know just about nothing about christianity, the bible, and religion in general. I was not raised going to church, I was not raised by a person who spoke about religion one way or the other, and when I was a teenager, I decided the idea of god and the bible was bonkers and just basically roll my eyes about that kind of stuff and have never bothered trying to learn anything about it still to this day. I don’t dislike reading about religion though, and when done right, and when done interestingly, I am actively invested. And though I can’t connect to the religious aspect of this or any other story, I can unfortunately relate to the other main theme of it, losing family in one of the most complicated and tragic ways to lose someone. I loved this book, though I’d say maybe don’t read it in bed for the hour before you fall asleep if you have any complicated feelings about drugs, siblings, parents, or god.
[fiction, cultural heritage, written by a Ghanian-American cisgender woman, medium-length read]
Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison, published 1977
Quick summary: The life of Macon Dead, from birth through middle age.
I don’t remember when I first read Song of Solomon, but I remember its impact. It’s been at least a decade, probably longer, and though I forgot a lot of the specificities of the story, I had butterflies in my stomach awaiting the line I knew was coming. When I got to it, I welled up, clutched the hard cover, and sighed. It means just as much now, maybe more.
I’m not going to share the line because some things have to stay close to our own hearts, especially in these days of mindless reposting, of scrolling through someone’s instagram stories, coming across quotes that mean so much to the person you are, knowing they mean nothing to someone who is posting them for extra ally credit. That line stays with me, but Toni Morrison is maybe the most talented writer in the history of time, so I’ll give you something I didn’t appreciate the first time I read it, but I do appreciate now.
She was the third beer. Not the first one, which the throat receives with almost tearful gratitude; nor the second, that confirms and extends the pleasure of the first. But the third, the one you drink because it’s there, because it can’t hurt, and because what difference does it make?
Wow and ouch and I’ve been on both sides, baby!
[black american classic, fiction, written by a Black cisgender woman, medium-length read]
Sarahland: Stories by Sam Cohen, publishing 2021
Quick summary: Funny, queer, coming-of-age, modern stories.
I am so lucky I received an advanced copy of this book of hilarious, racy, queer, strange stories. I wanted to read it in time to write about it for this letter and after reading two pages, I knew I’d do nothing else until it was done anyway. Sam Cohen is a hilarious, honest writer who crafts 10 unique and compelling stories in this insanely good collection, with stories with titles like, “Exorcism, or Eating My Twin.” Also, if your name is Sarah, I think you have to legally read this? Maybe Sara too, but definitely Sarah. Sarahland is coming to a bookstore/library/website near you soon or actually because of the way the internet works, it is there now and you can preorder it here or at your local bookstore.
[stories, fiction, written by a self-described queer Jewish femme, medium-length read]
[Audiobooks]
meaty: essays; we are never meeting in real life: essays; and wow, no thank you: essays by Samantha Irby, published 2013, 2017, 2020, respectively
Quick summary: Funny essays about Sam Irby’s life and opinions.
I have read each of these essay collections before and they are all smiling at me colorfully from my bookshelf at all times of the day because I never leave my home. I’m even lucky enough to have seen Irby read from and talk about her writing in actual, real life, back when we were allowed to breathe the same air as other people. But I had never listened to Irby’s books so I decided to go ahead and do that this month because I was reading a lot of heavy stuff and listening to something that makes me laugh out loud was a nice blend. After listening to all three books in a row, I am reminded of something I really appreciate about Irby — I have never come across someone who was the same kind of poor as I was, or am, really. Irby and I have very different parental situations (and mine are alive, last I checked) with similar outcomes and I really appreciate the way she lays bare the realities of growing up poor and how it affects you as an adult. And of course, I extra appreciate her humor around all of it, something I am also able to easily tap into.
[nonfiction, comedy, essays, written by a Black cisgender woman, queer, all medium length listens, all read by author]
Surviving the White Gaze: A Memoir by Rebecca Carroll, published 2021
Quick summary: A memoir about identity; the story of a Black woman growing up with a white family.
This memoir was great and of course, being about identity, is obviously up my alley. Though I was not adopted and raised by white people, I do find solace in stories about Black people having to find their identity, regardless of their particular situations. I do have a slight complaint about this book — Carroll really details her dating experiences with various men and though some of them are tied to identity (the complexity of dating white guys, how her birth mother made her feel when she dated Black men), some of them felt superfluous. And while I love to hear about a good sex life, I don’t think a lot of it was necessary and it distracted from the bigger and much better point.
[nonfiction, memoir, written by a Black cisgender woman, medium length listen, read by the author]
[What I Recommend]
If you just read one or two books a year: Isabel Wilkerson’s Caste.
If you have never read a book in your life or read a lot of books and have missed these ones and you like to laugh: Sam Irby’s essay collections, any, all, mix and match, read them on repeat.
For people who hate the patriarchy: Sarahland is a dream and is so damn good and interesting.
If you’re a regular reader: add An American Marriage and Transcendent Kingdom to your lists.
Am I too generous with my recommendations? Whatever! I’m not a critic, I’m just one idiot with a lot of time on her hands. I hope the ridiculous monster that is March, my least favorite month, is good to you all. See you at the end of it.
