Tag Archives: African-Caribbean Literature

What She’s Reading: The Book of Night Women

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I’ll admit, this book has been sitting on my shelf since 2011.  But after writing last week’s post, “Magical Realism in Afro-literature”, I was finally motivated to dust it off and crack the binding.  What better time to pour myself into James’ haunting yet ethereal slave narrative than a month in which we celebrate magical realism and its contribution to the literary world?

Set in Jamaica, The Book of Night Women is a rare mixture of beautiful, lyrical prose and engaging narrative.  It isn’t often that I am captivated by a novel within the first few pages (or first few chapters) but The Book of Night Women had me hooked after this powerful first paragraph:

“People think blood red, but blood don’t got no colour.  Not when blood wash the floor she lying on as she scream for that son of a bitch to come, the lone baby of 1785. Not when the baby wash in crimson and squealing like it just depart heaven to come to hell, another place of red.  Not when the midwife know that the mother shed too much blood, and she who don’t reach fourteen birthday yet speak curse ‘pon the chile and the papa, and then drop down dead like old horse.  Not when blood spurt from the skin, or spring from the axe, the cat-o-nine, the whip, the cane and the blackjack and every day in slave life is a day that colour red.  It soon come to pass when red no different from white or blue or nothing.  Two black legs spread wide and a mother mouth screaming.  A weak womb done kill one life to birth another.  A black baby wiggling in blood on the floor with skin darker than midnight but the greenest eyes anybody ever done see.  I goin’ call her Lilith.  You can call her what they call her.”

Admittedly, the quote above is a bit lengthy but WOW!  I can almost hear the author’s cadence as I read and feel the character’s energy seeping from the page.  It’s no secret that I believe a strong opening is an indication of a great novel.  My theory has so far proven true with this text.  I initially planned to read only the first few paragraphs but 50 pages later, I was completely immersed in the world Marlon James created.

Needless to say, I’m pleasantly surprised with the author’s talent thus far.  I love the feeling of unexpectedly falling in love with a book . . .

http://www.huemanbookstore.com/book/9781594484360

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What She’s Reading: “This is How You Lose Her”

“And that’s when I know it’s over. As soon as you start thinking about the beginning, it’s the end.”

I love Junot Diaz. His prose is energetic and his voice is one of the most unique I have encountered in years. “This Is How You Lose Her” is not cut from the same award-winning cloth as his earlier novels, but Diaz shines here. His writing is a masterful mix of street style and high brow technique; his tempo ranges from fast paced to methodically analytical. Many find his language offensive but I appreciate the boldness and authenticity of his prose. This is a quick and enjoyable read that examines love – perhaps a cliched topic – with fresh perspective.

Check it out and let us know what you think.

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10 Great Opening Lines in Afro-Literature

Every great writer knows the importance of the opening text. Not only is it the author’s first shot at engaging the reader, it also sets the tone for the entire novel.  A truly great incipit, as evidenced by the examples below, will also foreshadow theme, structure, plot and even conflict.

Let’s face it, a strong opening is perhaps the best indication of a strong text.  So let’s take a look at a few of the most profound within the Afro-literary genre:

“On the morning of her ninth birthday, the day after Madame Francoise Derbane slapped her, Suzette peed on the rosebushes.” – Lalita Tademy, Cane River

“You better not never tell nobody but God.” – Alice Walker, The Color Purple

“We are on our way to Budapest: Bastard and Chipo and Godknows and Sbho and Stina and me.” – NoViolet Bulawayo, We Need New Names

“A dwelling.” – Nuruddin Farah, From a Crooked Rib

“I was not sorry when my brother died.” – Tsitsi Dangarembga, Nervous Conditions

“124 was spiteful.” – Toni Morrison, Beloved

“Early in the morning, late in the century, Cricklewood Broadway.” – Zadie Smith, White Teeth

“Ships at a distance have every man’s wish aboard.” – Zora Neal Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God

“In the beginning there was a river. The river became a road and the road branched out to the whole world. And because the road was once a river it was always hungry.” – Ben Okri, The Famished Road

“They say it came from Africa, carried in the screams of the enslaved; that it was the death bane of the Tainos, uttered just as one world perished and another began; that it was a demon drawn into Creation through the nightmare door that was cracked open in the Antilles.” – Junot Diaz, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao

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