EsterHazy's Blog

I was running through some old writings today. Looking for a poem about Tubas. And instead, I came across this one I wrote 18 years ago about Palestine. I never even remember writing it. And I can’t believe I was so conflicted internally about the external conflict in the Middle East even then. And I can’t believe it’s still going on almost two decades later. It pains me to the core that we can’t find a two-state solution. I say “we” because we are invested in this, the world needs this, our sense of global security needs this.

Sure, it’s naive and immature. But it speaks to the emotions that run through the heart of the matter.

Body Politic

I don’t begrudge your admiration,

She is beautiful,

Intelligent, kind and giving,

A devoted mother to her children,

A loyal wife.

You say that she belongs to you

By all God-given rights.

You have, in fact, been courting her for

Thousands of years.

You say she belongs to you,

That she was promised you,

An arranged marriage

Guaranteed by your Fathers,

Before either of you were even born,

Centuries ago.

Yet she is my wife,

We’ve grown together,

Our destinies are intertwined,

She is my earth, my sky, my sun,

My moon.

Her flesh is dark and smooth,

Innocent and fresh,

And orchard which would become,

Upon your entry,

Immodest and unclean, and above all,

Unjust.

Tired, hurt, torn as well,

Bloodied with the guts

Of innumerable bodies,

Both yours and mine.

Try to get to her,

And you will have to battle through

Me and my ten (thousand) brothers,

With the grace of Dagon and his cold might,

We will defend her honor

Until our last breaths.

And if, by some unlucky chance,

Your tanks crush the last of them,

Breasts slashed by bullets and rockets,

At least let me have an ankle or an earlobe,

An inch of Filistina, her desert dust,

To remember her by.

The strength of your desire

For one to call your own

Is equally matched by my my own

Ever since God gave her to me

(And me to her)

On the world’s first Saturday.

So can you not see

That she was just as equally

Promised unto me?

Only I have known her better,

Deeper through the years,

Having shared a home, a hearth

A sacred life and land.

Who does she really belong to?

Why don’t we ask her?

Hush the clamor of fighting men,

And turn our ear to the golden sound

Of Filistina’s gentle cry,

Pitiful but pure, poppies on the breeze.

Surely you can hear

The love and dedication

To her people.

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… by InkBlottings

To put it simply; I don’t think I’m wrong in saying that this is a bold portrayal of an #ownvoices book. It’s not afraid to be political, blunt, and tell it like it is, but it also showcases the struggles that young people face. It’s very relatable in the sense that, in a world that currently is how it is, a lot of people are going to be angry and the emotions of the main character are completely understandable. Not only does the book make good use of representation, overcoming adversity, and the issues that people face when trying to come to terms with their own identity, but it also makes the audience stop and really think about the state of the planet. The author does a great job of writing in a way that generates a specific character tone and she knows how to use her talent to grab the attention of any type of reader.

See the full review: Reader Review: Queen Of Corona – Ro Esterhazy

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I did some teaching a few years back. As a semi-permanent substitute for a teacher off on maternity leave. When said teacher came back, I walked out of that school and never looked back.

Until now. I got a phone call a few weeks ago asking if I’d have the time to teach English once a week to grade first through seventh. Seven classes back to back. I accepted the challenge for two reasons. First, I’ve never turned a job offer down in my life. I’ve been working since I was eleven, assistant-teaching at a dance school in exchange for ballet classes. Since then I’ve worked at a gallery, a psych research lab, a restaurant (fired after two weeks for eating too much on the job), a couple of fancy magazines, a website, a newspaper, a city guide and innumerable freelance writing gigs.

The second reason I agreed was because my novel is about education. About how poor kids suffer because of the pathetic waste of a school system. And so it made sense that my karma was going to send me back into that classroom. And into a classroom of privileged young people with parents wealthy enough to pay private school tuition. And guess what I discovered?

A lot of these kids are as fucked up as the kids I grew up with. And not because there aren’t enough desks, pens or textbooks – but because they don’t get enough from their parents. Teachers do what they can within the confines of a wealthier system (with isn’t without its own constraints) but they have to deal with the behavioral issues of kids whose parents are often too busy at work, on their laptops or their cell phones to give them the emotional education which is the foundation of all other learning.

Without that bond, it’s tough to build empathy. And without empathy, it’s tough to be sensitive to all that there is to discover about the world around us. That first day at school taught me a great deal. Particularly when a seventh-grader shared with me her truth about being excused from participating in the assigned reading this month: Thirteen Reasons Why. That hit me hard. Nearly as hard as much of the hopelessness I saw as a teen at a failing school in Queens, NY.

Ever since I’ve seen more of the world as an adult, I’m struck by the contrast between rich and poor. Mostly in the sense that while the poor lack material wealth, the rich often tend to lack heart or culture. I met a millionaire several years back who shared with me how miserable he was. The source of his misery? The fact that he could have anything in the world he could ever want. So there was nothing he could yearn for. He had no dreams. Only the same overloaded excess of the millionaire lifestyle. And even that gets old after a bit.

It’s no picnic being poor and I’m not suggesting we pity the rich. But perhaps the soulful, immaterial wealth we hold inside is indeed more precious than any goods.

[image error]Some people find the sexual content of my book disturbing. Unpalatable.

What I find disturbing is adults being more offended by sex than by violence. The sexual behaviors in my book is meant to reflective the problematic nature of consent – particularly when individuals aren’t in their right mind (mental illness, PTSD, drugs, alcohol or otherwise).

The trouble that young women who’ve been abused (mentally and/or physically) as children have in establishing boundaries, speaking up for themselves, expressing their discomfort with a situation – even the mere act of realizing they are veing exploited.

I tried to portray this conflicted mindset as subtly as I could. Everything that happens to Roza is the cumulative effect of the injustices that shattered her character in the streets and at home, from her youngest days.

That makes hers a two-fold tragedy – that, nonetheless, she struggles hard to overcome.

It was natural the way that the #metoo and #neveragain movements intertwined themselves in my book – plotted years before it ever came up in the media. Because it was always there, lurking, bogging down the life of every woman who just wanted to be something, someone – despite all odds.

Photo by Zuza Krajewska

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I’ve had the impression lately that the quality of literature available to readers today is stagnating. While the opening up of the industry to independent authors might have ushered in new styles of writing, most of these authors follow the same safe writing guidelines that novelists follow for fear of veering off the beaten track. The straightforward style of Harry Potter is one thing – it’s a kids book after all. But shouldn’t the books adults read be as challenging as ever? Why should they follow the same naive musings of YA, which are legitimate in their own right, but not quite geared at the grown-up reader. Why is so much independent writing locked in romance or fantasy? Or murder mysteries? Where are the deft masters of language like Iris Murdoch and Philip Roth?

I feel as though Zadie Smith has that command, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie too. What about us Americans? Certainly Junot Diaz. Jonathan Safran Foer was a hero of mine, but his latest book is just way too suburban for me to swallow.

When I was writing my own book, it was a challenge for me to create my own literary style. One that meshed magical realism and poetry with the raw vibe of the street.

In the meantime, I wondered who I could turn to for guidance. Who is the great author American author of today? Who writes not for the masses, but for their own heart? With measured aplomb, magic and truth?

Share your thoughts and recommendations please…

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I’d like to propose a spanking new genre. The type of writing that gives a voice to the voiceless, while capturing the cruel beauty of the streets.

Thug lit.

It’s not something new really. We’ve had a wealth of African American, Caribbean and Latino literature over the past century. We had The Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao over a decade ago. But the verve and color of books like Dear Martin and The Hate U Give (THUG) are like nothing that have come before. Powered by the energy of activist movements striving to topple the injustice and systemic racism that America is built upon.

Queen of Corona is the story of a bunch of schoolkids in Queens who demonstrate the audacity to rise up against their school’s failing administration. You can just imagine what happens when the cops rush in. My heroine runs away, hobbled by the grief and trauma of the tragedy she feels is her fault.

This inevitably gives rise to the question…

Why are the underprivileged in America always blames for the injustices committes against them?

I want to share Roza’s story with the world. This weekend, I’m doing a giveaway on Goodreads. To enter, click on the photo above or search for the book via the Goodreads app.

 

Queen of Corona primed for a giveaway this week. Giveaway ends April 10.
Enter + check my hood novel about a group of brave high school students who attempt to take on their failing administration.
What happens when nobody listens and the calls for justice keep getting louder?
We know what happens to a dream deferred…
But what happens when there’s no justice for all?

 

Goodreads Book Giveaway


Queen of Corona
by Ro Esterhazy

Giveaway ends April 10, 2018.

See the giveaway details

at Goodreads.

Enter Giveaway

 

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What lies beneath a book’s cover? How glorious is it to see the title page of a favorite novel? The tilt of the font and the small details that have been a sort of secret code in publishing for hundreds of years.

The all-seeing eye of my title page is by Nadia Honorata. For me, it stands for the oppressive burden of being constantly watched, forever judged.

Photo above by Cikita – Black Books Page

So… I decided to switch things up. Even after publishing 500 copies of my book, I decided to tweak the chapters a bit. Start with the gist of it, rather than some ruminations on what it means to be an immigrant. In version 2.0 of my novel, I bring the reader right into the classroom – the hot, humid, overcrowded classroom of a fucked-up inner city school.

I started writing this book six years ago. I felt like something was in the air. About to happen. I saw it when I was at school. Teenagers aren’t dumb. They can see when they’re getting a bad deal. And high school without the proper investment (both monetary and human) is worth very little.

Here’s the first chapter – fresh off the WordPress. The font is tiny, but I hope y’all can manage. And if you want to read more, there’s still a few more hours left for a free purchase of Queen of Corona via Amazon.

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When I first started thinking about my Queen of Corona cover design, I happened to come across a photograph by Anna Bloda that captured the imagination of my novel perfectly. But when it came down to the wire, I went for a more abstract design – a mysterious, cosmic cover that exemplifies the poetic chaos of my novel. That bubbly texture of the physical cover brings a third dimension to the artwork by Nadia Honorata.

Still, I could never get that image by Bloda out of my head. So I decided to bring it back as a limited-edition cover just for my Amazon giveaway weekend. Check out my book free on Amazon via this LINK.

The best of both is always best.