Denise R. Ervin's Blog

It’s been a minute, but ya girl has some exciting things to share…

Over the summer, I heard that there was this new reality show in the works for writers. America’s Next Great Author, they were calling it. I was intrigued, particularly as my social media posts seemed split between “how cool!” and “what trash!” Kwame Alexander had been tapped as the host and, having read his work some years ago, I knew the show would be a good time if nothing else. So I applied. And then I smooth forgot even doing so.

It was several months later when I was wandering around Ikea with my mom and sister that my phone buzzed in my pocket to indicate a new email. I opened it and immediately exclaimed “holy crap!” as I learned that I had been chosen as one of the semifinalists for the show’s pilot. Apparently, my 75-second video pitch had been more impressive than I initially thought and I was on my way to Newark, New Jersey along with 99 other people!

The catch: only 20 of the 100 semifinalists would actually get to pitch in person in the allotted 60 seconds. And they wouldn’t be revealed until we arrived at the taping.

I think I thought about it for about 20 minutes before I confirmed my attendance. Everyone around me was confident I would show up and show out, but I was just honored to be among the number. Out of more than 800 pitches, I was given the nod and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to try. So I booked a flight. And reserved a room. I picked out a couple of TV-appropriate outfits and accessories. I met with The Book Doctors to refine my pitch and I committed it to memory. When I touched down at Newark International Airport on the afternoon of October 29th, I was ready.

I met up with several other participants as early as the shuttle from the airport to the hotel and there was a general spirit of camaraderie. We were here to compete, but we were also here to support one another. Between that shuttle ride, the evening’s meet-and-greet, and the taping the next day, I did not run across a single other person from Detroit, not even one from Michigan. Of the 80 participants who ultimately showed up, there were multiple genders, ethnicities, religions, creeds, orientations, etc. and every single person I met was amazing. We wanted to pitch. We wanted to win. But most of us would leave with so much more than just a trophy and/or a check.

We lined up outside the Newark International Library on the morning of October 30th and laughed and talked like old friends. While some people rehearsed their pitches, others went live on social media and kept the crowd hype. We did interviews with David Henry Sterry and Arielle Eckstut and cheered every time another shuttle full of writers made their way from the hotel. We exchanged business cards, book marks, books, QR codes… anything we could think of to get and give contact information so that the people we met in this moment would be in our lives for much longer. And all of this was before any of us actually got to pitch.

Inside of the second floor of the immense and gorgeous library, we were met by celebrities like Jason Reynolds, Marga Gomez, and Victoria Christopher Massey. (In case you had any doubt, Jason Reynolds is as fine a specimen of man candy in person as he is online.) We settled into our seats, turned off our phones, and turned on the charm.

Twenty people pitched in that room and I was not one of them. Every time Kwame started to announce the next author, I held my breath, but alas, it was not to be. Even without giving my own, I heard 20 amazing pitches and when the top 3 candidates were announced, I was not surprised by who they were. I was also not surprised by the winner, Joi Miner of Birmingham, Alabama. I had met Joy in the lobby the day before and we had a great chat. So when she was announced as the winner of America’s Next Great Author, I stood and applauded with my fellow writers and I cried right along with her as she sobbed, “Tomorrow is my birthday.” What a gift!

After we managed to compose ourselves, we were told we would have a special treat of a mini workshop for the afternoon. We broke for lunch and I noticed how upset several of my fellow competitors were. In fact, some of them chose to leave the venue and not attend the afternoon’s session. I found myself immensely grateful not to be so upset as to leave before I got every single thing that was available to me with this opportunity and I made a few more connections, include Nia from Arizona who was of a similar mind. Though we finished the day with some empty seats in the room, finish the day we did. And as we returned to the hotel, someone had the bright idea to host our own mini-pitchapalooza in the hotel restaurant.

We gathered around a few tables in the back of the restaurant and people kept coming. Megan made up a list and timed us. We even saw a judge (Marga) hanging around to hear what folks had to say. And every single person in that group stood and delivered. Of every pitch I heard throughout this entire process, every single one was well-crafted and engaging and could have been a clear winner in this competition. Even though we didn’t get to pitch on the record, we did so for one another and we were able to share and to encourage and to find peace in knowing that all of our work wasn’t in vain. Some of my fellow participants didn’t get that, some were already at the airport when the process when down, but I am a richer, better, more connected writer for every bit of my America’s Next Great Author experience.

But wait, there’s more…

I told myself while I was in Newark, I needed to pay homage to “The Voice” herself, Ms. Whitney Houston. So I researched where she was buried and took the initiative to figure out how to get myself there. A short walk to Newark’s Penn Station and 2 bus rides later, I found myself in the Fairview Cemetery. I literally walked up hill through the entire cemetery to the office to inquire about where Nippy, Bobbi Kris, and Daddy Houston were buried, only to be told I was in the wrong place!

“You’re not the first,” the lady told me, as she explained that there were 3 cemeteries with that same name and that Whitney and fam were actually interred at one closer to Newark (which means it was closer to my hotel, but I tried not to be salty about that). As I made my way back down hill to the exit, I looked up the correct cemetery and called to verify, only to be told that Whitney is most certainly buried there, but the family did not allow visitation. So the closest I was going to get to visiting was the pictures already online of the headstone. I looked at them again as I walked. Then, I opened my Lyft app to see what time the bus would come to get me back to my point of origin. And that is when I discovered that I could in no way take the same route back. In fact, I didn’t even understand all the twists and turns I was being offered, but it seemed to involve 2 buses and 2 trains. So I figured, I’ll just spring for the Lyft or Uber (which had been $30 when I started this quest), but I didn’t have enough on my credit card thanks to the emergency hold at the hotel. You wanna see a black girl have a panic attack on the side of the road across from a 7-11 in the middle of New Jersey? I didn’t, but I was 2 seconds off it before I came up with a better idea.

Right behind me was a furniture store. I walked in and asked the first gentleman that approached me for help. He told me he was new to the neighborhood and referred me to a coworker. Thank God for Erica! I explained the fool’s errand I had been on and how I needed to get back to my hotel by noon to check out, but how I couldn’t make heads or tails of the transit system. I told her the thing I really needed was a Lyft or an Uber, but I only had cash and no way to book it and, bless her whole heart, she pulled out her phone and booked an Uber directly to my hotel on my behalf. The cost was $22 and some change. I pulled out a twenty and when I reached for more money, she told me I had given her enough. I asked if she was sure and she said, “absolutely, get home safe” as my ride pulled up. Twenty-five minutes later, I was checked out of my room and in the hotel shuttle to the airport. I was about to be hella early for my flight, but it sure beat missing it altogether cuz I had to walk back to the Newark Airport!

Suffice it to say, this entire experience was one I wouldn’t trade for the world. I may not have the most glamorous life and I surely could use a few more coins to afford the lifestyle I want, but my life is an adventure and it comes with a spectacular view. I hope you see it too.

It was 2017 when I first applied to The Watering Hole. Let me be frank, it was the first year I had even heard of it. At that time, I had been accepted into my very first writing retreat ever and I was still excited about the possibilities it held. (How and why that changed is a topic for another time, for those of you that don’t already know.) Nevertheless, some of the black women writers I knew at the time were talking about TWH so I decided to throw my hat into the ring along with them. Let the record reflect that my dob was lobbed back at me quickly in the form of a rejection letter.

Undeterred, I applied again in 2018, this time in the company of a few other black writers (both men and women) that I admired. And again I was rejected. In fact, for both consecutive years, every person that encouraged me to apply alongside them got in and I did not. It was enough to give a girl a complex! So I took 2019 off, figuring I’d get my ducks in a row and come back an even stronger applicant in 2020. Then COVID happened. And I felt anything but strong and capable. I lost friends and family to the throes of the pandemic and it was all I could do to keep treading water. There was no style or substance to my stroke, but at least I managed not to sink. I completely forgot about TWH though, which I suppose was fortuitous since they had not wanted to be bothered with me in previous years.

Fast forward to 2021. We are still in the midst of what folks are calling a “pandamnit” and TWH is nowhere near being on my mind, although I have managed to do some writing to keep myself sane (the rest of y’all were baking bread, I think). On the day the applications are due, I get an email reminding me of the deadline and I put together the best writing samples I can muster and hit “submit.”

The next day, I’m reminded of another deadline, this one for the Detroit Women’s Leadership Network Mini-Grant. With only hours to spare and no idea whether TWH would finally take a chance on me, I applied for the funds to cover the cost of the retreat. God must’ve been on the committee for both organizations because I found out on a Wednesday I got into the retreat and on Thursday, that I was awarded the grant. Finally, it was all coming together!

When I logged into the virtual space for the first time, I became acquainted with the other 59 participants that I was expected to hold court with… and I knew not nary one of them personally, though at least one of them was profiled in a recent Poets & Writers magazine. Most were from southern locales (TWH often being referred to as Cave Canem South, this was no surprise) but some were even international. What I discovered was that I was the only person in the space repping Detroit, Michigan and I was equal parts energized and sure that they had made a mistake in accepting my application. That first workshop made me feel a little better (Paul Tran is such a G.O.A.T.), but that was only the first of several days when I needed to overcome my imposter syndrome. Regardless to how I fought, my facilitators and fellow participants would not let me hide. They brought me into conversations I tried to sit out, gave me feedback on the writing I shared, and made sure I knew that my being in this cohort was no accident. By the time of our final session (including a keynote address by the incomparable Dr. Tara Betts), I wasn’t a flaming ball of confidence, but I felt accepted by a group of people I had come to admire and love. These folks, these brilliant wordsmiths, did not know me from Adam, yet they cheered for me like they were my Day Ones. And now, they kinda are because part of the beauty of being selected as a TWH Writing Fellow is that you get to attend the retreat for 3 years! So anything I didn’t get in 2021 will be waiting for me at future retreats and I expect it to grow exponentially with each opportunity to share with these brilliant writers of color.

I don’t know if other poets from Detroit applied as I did. Many of my poet friends got in years ago on that first application. What I can say for sure, though, is that DWLN made it possible for me to do the impossible by granting me the funds to attend this year’s TWH retreat. And for that, I’ll be eternally grateful. Now to revise and submit these workshop poems!

Dr. Ibram X. Kendi has one of my favorite intellectual minds these days. This brilliant brother has the wit of an academician, the charm of a gentleman, and the showmanship of a preacher. To hear him speak is to get a sermon, a lecture, and a life lesson at the same time. So when I heard he was teaming up with Dr. Keisha N. Blain for an ambitious project called “Four Hundred Souls,” I knew something special was on the horizon. As a friend of mine declared on Facebook, if you are looking for the greatest current black voices in literature today, look no further. Dr. Kendi and Dr. Blain have assembled 90 such superheroes and created a master class a la Nikhole Hannah-Jones’ 1619 project. As always, the work is much more than just reading, though. This is a text (both prose and poetry) that will have to be wrestled with in order to determine its true value for years to come. These questions are just a small snipped to get you started.

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p. 5 – “… while we can erase the memory of the White Lion, we cannot erase its impact. Together these two ships, the White Lion and the Mayflower, bridging the three continents that made America, would constitute this nation’s most quintessential and perplexing elements, underpinning the grave contradictions that we have failed to overcome.” Does the acknowledgment of this ship, the very existence of the 1619 project even, do anything to spur us toward reckoning in this country?Does our failure to know en masse our history before Africans were enslaved in this country have an impact on how we define and demand justice in modern times? In other words, do we simply not know that we are worthy? Would the establishment of black humanity begin with finally overturning Dred Scott?p. 12 – “Whiteness is a ledge you can only fall from.” How can this be explained to those who remain unconvinced of the toxicity of white supremacy, even in the face of what seems to be overwhelming evidence to the rest of us?p. 13 – “Blackness could hardly benefit socially, politically, or financially from proximity to whiteness in any meaningful way.” Is it ironic that whiteness, with all it’s privilege, still finds favor in proximity to blackness?How different might our history be if Africans and Native Americans had been able to work together in larger capacities to thwart the plan of the slavemasters? “What would an alliance between Black and Native Americans look like today and how would that continue to fundamentally change this country so that it not only met the founders’ ideals of what democracy could look like but also radically reshaped them?” (p. 125)The Mammy, Sapphire, and Jezebel stereotypes can be traced back to slavery. What other distortions exist of the black woman’s “physical, emotional, cultural, gendered, and spiritual selves” (p. 19)?Could the term “half-freedom” apply to enslaved mothers who had no hope of freedom for themselves or their children under the rules of chattel slavery? How ironic that children of enslaved women were ruled by law to remain enslaved while miscegenation was also outlawed! Aren’t these rulings contradictory?p. 46 – “A recovery of the earthly and spiritual equality of all people both in theory and in practice is the only way to redeem religion from racism.” Is this religion Christianity, though? Does it, by definition, have to be? Is it reasonable, healing even, to turn to other religion instead? As Bishop Barber states, do we need to remake our religion rather than abandon it altogether to rid ourselves of the legacy of slavery and white supremacy?If gun ownership has always been about securing racist white power, is it feasible that black gun ownership could deter that by increasing? Or is it simply likely to incur a backlash?The maintenance of white supremacy is a deliberate act. What deliberate steps can we take to counteract it? Where in this country can black people find a safe space not beholden to, at the very least, white surveillance?What does the poetry at the end of each section do for you? How do you interpret or interact with it differently than the prose? Is the format necessary or distracting?Is it possible to separate our politics from our monuments? Is is necessary?In what ways was it harder to be a free man than an enslaved one?p. 164 – “Black abolitionists recognized violence as an inherently American language that white supporters of slavery understood quite well.” Why, then, is violence still derided as an ineffective tool for change? Does the myth of black docility support the pretense of society always encouraging, even expecting, black people to forgive injuries no matter how severe?How do you imagine each writer chosen for each section if they didn’t have a personal connection to an era, like Barbara Smith for example? Are the pieces written for or during contemporary times more impactful or relatable? Why or why not?How would the actual dissemination of 40 acres and a mule to freed slaves “have forever altered the trajectory of America’s racial and economic history” (p.248)?

For months, I’ve been hearing talk about Brit Bennett’s The Vanishing Half. It seems to have been a hit for so many people, but I’m afraid many of it’s elements missed for me. Because of that, it makes me wary of how we (read: black people) consume literature.

The established trope in the publishing industry is that black people don’t read and we have proven that to be a lie. Now I need for us to be more discerning readers though. And by that, I don’t mean you can’t read absolutely anything that strikes your fancy (and that just because it strikes your fancy, it has to strike mine), but I do mean we need to require more of the people that are writing to and for us. Sure, we have the amazing legacy of folks like James Baldwin and Toni Morrison, but they are no longer with us in the flesh. Their works are finite. We can still learn from them, but there is nothing new coming from their pens. Those who call themselves black writers today must take up the mantle Nina Simone espoused years ago, “An artist’s job is to reflect the times.” And while doing so, I need you to learn your craft, not just throw something together because black folks aren’t going to catch or care about typos, grammatical errors, or caricatures and cliches that don’t make us sound, look, or feel like whole people. (To be clear, I am not leveling any of these specific claims at Bennett. I am simply saying there are levels to this, and there are more she could have attempted that she did not.)

Nevertheless, for those of you out here lauding the brilliance of this work, here are a few questions to help you think and engage critically with the novel. After all, isn’t that what we’re supposed to do with the things and people we love?

Happy reading!

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p. 13 – “The only difference between lying and acting was whether your audience was in on it, but it was all a performance just the same.” This is Desiree’s stance, but would Stella agree? What does this tell us about Desiree’s character overall?Adele tells Desiree that she is safe back in Mallard, but knowing what happened to her father, does this declaration reek of truth or fear?Is colorism a theme in the text or a crutch? Why does dark have to equate to evil and like (but not necessarily white) have to equate to good? Would the audience be better served by reversing this trope or using a less familiar societal example?Why does Desiree need to feel like Stella’s protector and guide? Is it simply because she’s the oldest or is there something deeper at work?Would Stella have had the courage to “pass” full time if she hadn’t already had smaller successful attempts? Is it ironic or sad that Desiree has to pretend to be white in order to get information that would help her locate a “passing” Stella?p. 111 – “It was fun because everyone knew it was not real.” Does this observation apply to passing? How much does it sound like something Desiree would say coming out of Jude’s mouth?In her quest to belong to someone, Stella has managed to avoid the only people she did belong to, her family. How is it that she still doesn’t even feel that she belongs to herself? Would having a relationship with her family change that?p. 188 – “She had become white only because everyone thought she was.” Is this Stella’s way of blaming the people in her life for the choice she made? Does she resent Desiree for not choosing to “pass” as well?In what ways are Stella and Loretta like twins? How does Stella abandon her as well? In what ways does Stella treat Kennedy as a substitute twin for Desiree?In what ways are Kennedy and Jude similar and dissimilar? Are they like their respective mothers (genetics) or the environments in which they were raised (surroundings)? What point does the author make about nature vs/ nurture using these characters?Considering that her upbringing was as far removed from Mallard as possible, where did Kennedy get the notion that black men preferred lighter-skinned women?

A few years ago, I hit a financial wall.  Since that time, I’ve been working on rebuilding my credit, building my savings, and establishing financial health to lead to financial wealth.  I finally have stable and consistent employment that has allowed me to pay down a great deal of debt and put myself in the position to purchase my very first home.  Only one thing stands in my way… a little more debt!

https://gofund.me/98ae9c03

A writer that you should know if you do not:  Kiese Laymon.  If you are not familiar with this literary goldsmith, the following three texts would serve as a great introduction.  Regardless of which you choose to read first, you cannot go wrong with How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America, Long Division, or Heavy:  An American Memoir.  Happy reading!

HOW TO SLOWLY KILL YOURSELF AND OTHERS IN AMERICA

Does the order of essays in the text seem arbitrary?  How does it impact your reading and understanding of the points Laymon is trying to make?

How much does the author’s intention for the text factor into your engagement with and/or understanding of this text?

The idea of reckoning is a familiar trope for Laymon.  What does it mean to you?

What does it say that, with all of his success, Laymon still thinks of writing as more of a hustle than a vocation?  How does this impact the ways in which he engages the process?

On page 22, Sue makes a distinction between Jimmy’s “ghost” and his “spirit.”  What is the difference as she explains it?  Do you agree with the distinction?  Why or why not?

Does Sue’s letter feel like a eulogy?  Why or why not?

When do we gain the language of American responsibility Laymon references on page 30, if ever?  What does it take to become proficient in this language?

What effect is achieved by Laymon’s references to the ages and names of young black boys and girls murdered senselessly in recent years in the title essay?  Multiple times in the essay, he says, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”  What do you think is wrong with him?  How do you know?

Does Laymon believe that anyone an achieve perfection in this country?  Why is it important to strive for?

On page 42, Laymon uses the phrase “toxic miasma.”  How do the nuances of this word serve your understanding of his predicament at this moment? 

Define the differences between freedom and survival for Laymon.  How are they different for his mother?

One page 51, Laymon refers to his interaction with his neighbor as a gift.  What about our society makes this a dangerous way of thinking?

Laymon learned the depths of white entitlement in Pennsylvania according to page 52.  I learned it in grad school at Marygrove College.  When and where did you learn it?  Or have you?

On page 58, Laymon says, “most of me was tired of lying to myself and really tired of talking to white folks.”  Where do black people go when we feel this way and what do we do to ready ourselves to return to a world that seems not to care if we are at peace within it?

Similar to ways that music is the soundtrack of blackness, how did Laymon and his friends absorb and shift hip hop from its New York roots?

How is the tradition of a black southern artist different than others?  Connect Laymon’s artistry to that of Natasha Tretheway, Terrence Hayes, or even southern hip hop like Outkast and T.I.

Can you worry and live simultaneously?  Why or why not?  If owning oneself and loving oneself are not the same thing, how do we achieve both?

On page 92, Laymon says, “Kanye West ain’t really using his voice or his art right.”  Nina Simone said, “An artist’s job is to reflect the times.”  Who in our current society seems to be using their voice and/or art in service of a correct vision?  How do you know?

Talk about the accuracy or inaccuracy of Laymon’s representations of Obama and Romney in the lost debate near the end of the book.

In the Elegy, why did Laymon chose to spotlight Michael Jackson, Bernie Mac, and Tupac?  If you were writing this, what 3 black boys would you choose to highlight and why?

Laymon makes multiple references to what black artists make of the eyes of whites that are always upon their artistry.  How do we navigate this white gaze without sacrificing our art f0or monetary gain?  How do we strike a balance between “what’s marketable and what’s possible” (p. 136)?

How do the two pieces that Laymon chose to end the book with speak to each other as well as his audience?

HEAVY

What is the book’s title a reference to?  Is Laymon the only one carrying extra weight?

In it’s opening, Laymon talks about what he wanted the book he wanted to write to ask of it’s audience.  What does the book he actually wrote ask of it’s readers?  Do you think this is aligned with his original intention?  Why or why not?  

If promises are words, are actions not aligned with those words betrayal?  Can we betray someone with our words as well?  How so?

Laymon says that he and his mother share “the same husky thighs, short arms, full cheeks, mushy insides, and minced imagination.” (p.4) How does this description, specifically the choice of words like mushy and minced, impact your understanding of Kiese and his mother?

“In that space, I learned how to assemble memory and imagination when I most wanted to die.”  (p.9) Laymon’s description shows that he believes words have kept him alive, even in the face of suicidal ideations.  What have words done for you?  Or what is the thing that keeps you going even when it is the last thing on your mind to do?

Laymon talks a lot about wanting to write a lie with this book.  Do you feel like he wrote a lie or the truth and how do you know?  Is truth relative?  How do we define and reckon with our national truth in light of writing and  experiences like this?

On page 14, Laymon talks about not being able to write like Faulkner and say anything honest about us, which begs the question, can non-black people honestly and effectively tell black stories?  Why or why not?  Consider any examples you might think of… how have you (as a black person) or those you know personally seen or felt represented within the work?

“Running a train” seems a be a rite-of-passage in many coming-of-age stories of black men.  Why do you think this is?  Do you have any personal connection to the topic that you’d be willing to share with the group?  Is there a difference in the fear black girls might feel from black men and white men?  How so?  How does that relate to this statement from page 169:  “Folk always assumed black women would recover but never really cared if black women recovered.”

Laymon makes numerous references to the things that happen to his body, the things that happen in his home, the things that happen between him and his mother… does this feel like an allusion to sexual abuse that he does not name outright?  Consider that he made adjustments to the manuscript based on feedback from his mother and other family members in order fo avoid airing dirty laundry, so to speak.

On page 29, Laymon writes the lines his mother assigns him after leaving Beulah Beauford’s house, but he starts and ends differently.  The first line is “I promise to read and write as I’m told when I go to Beulah Beauford’s house” but ends as “I promise to read and write as I’m told.”  What do you make of the difference between where he starts and where he ends up?  How is this a metaphor for much of his life?

How do his interactions with his father shape Laymon’s perception of manhood?  Why does he lie to his mother about his father being proud of her?  How can his mother see him as abusive without also recognizing it in herself?

Laymon makes much of the things that he learned from his mother, but on page 42, he talks about how she never talked to him about sexuality.  As a parent, when do you have these talks with your children, or do you?  Where else do they learn these things if not from you?  Was she a better teacher than she was mother?  Why or how?  How important is it that we let our children in on our humanity as they come into their own?

On page 46, Laymon writes about the confusion that comes with feeling love and pain come from his mother.  He wishes that she would choose one to stick with, but doesn’t this negate the dichotomy that we know things by their opposite?  How would he know love if not for feeling pain?

Laymon and his mother both struggle with a gambling addiction.  Is it hereditary?  How do other members of the family feel about money?  Even knowing about her addiction, why does Laymon feel compelled to give her money over and over again?

When Laymon goes to work with his grandmother, he meets a young white boy who seems to believe all the stereotypes about blacks.  Where does he get these impressions from?  And how does our current society reinforce the lesson that losing is not enough if you don’t lose the way they want you to?

On page 74, Laymon expresses concern that Jabari’s presentation would affect all the black kids at the school.  In what ways does society hold one black person accountable for us all?  How do we overcome this insistence?  How does the pressure to represent the race at all times set blacks up for failure from the start?

“They will shoot your black ass out of the sky every chance they get.  If you have a heart attack dodging their bullets, they will hide they guns and say you killed yourself.” (p. 82)  How is this an apt metaphor for being black in America?  Is there anything we can do to change it?

On page 104, Margaret Walker tells Laymon to own his name.  Uzo Aduba is credited as saying that she used to hate her name growing up, but that her mother reminded her that it was a badge of honor, a thing that allows her not to trust people who won’t even attempt to say it correctly.  What connections to you have to your name?  How or why is it important to you?  How did you decide on names for your children?  Why do names matter?

Despite becoming a teacher, Laymon’s relationship with the education system was not the best growing up.  On page 115, he writes, “we spent much of our time teaching them how to respect where we’d been, and they spent much of their time punishing us for teaching them how we deserved to be treated.”  Does this describe any experience you’d had with public education?  What do you understand him to be saying here?  In this type of environment, is anyone learning anything?

Almost every time Laymon tells us how much he weighs, he tells us how much money he has to his name.  What is the purpose of this?

On page 130, Laymon copies the first sentence of Toni Cade Bambara’s Gorilla, My Love and talks about how he’d like to imitate it.  Are you aware of other writers who use this same style?  Does Laymon use this technique effectively?

On page 156, Laymon writes that he’d “fallen in love with provoking white folk” which is the equivalent of speaking truth to power.  What price has life exacted from him for this undertaking?

On page 162, when Laymon leaves home, he tells his mother that he will be back soon, which is ultimately not true.  Does he realize at this moment that he is telling a lie?  Is that why he is so insistent on it?  Does his mother believe him?  Why or why not?

How is Laymon’s struggle the same as his Uncle Jimmy?  Does Laymon learn how to live better from his uncle’s eventual death?  Who benefits from the lies Jimmy Earl tells his mother and others?

On page 191, Laymon says, “If I was doing my  job, I had to find a way to love the wealthy white boys I taught with the same integrity with which I loved my black students, even if the constitution of that love differed.”  Define the difference between integrity and constitution in this context.  How does that impact your understanding of his meaning here?

Toward the end of the book, Laymon discusses the break down of his body, but he does so in 3rd person.  What is the effect of his style choice on your understanding of what he is saying?  Is it awkward when he goes from first person to third person and back again?  Why or why not?

Does the ending of the text feel contrived and/or heavy-handed?  Why or why not?

LONG DIVISION

Does this novel read as stream of consciousness a la Toni Morrison?  Is that intentional due to the subject matter?  How much of these characters, City in particular, sounds like Laymon himself?

What do you make of the title?  Does Laymon show is work here, or simply leave the audience confused?  How does the cover of the text that City sees inside of the book represent the alternate reality of his world on page 67?

LaVander and City often trade the insult of calling one another homosexual.  Is this a veil on the sexuality of one or both boys?  Why this insult?  Why, when throwing the contest, did City choose to insult the Mexicans and not the whites on stage with him?

What do you make of each boy’s motivations for entering the contest?  Were you taken aback by City’s response to the word he was given?  Does the choice of that word in that context seem racist, or is there something larger at work?  Could City have won the contest if he simply played along?  How did LaVander lose the contest?  Why would the organizers have wanted City to win?

There is a test at the beginning and end of the text.  What would you answers be if you were to take it?

Is City really a disgrace to those who have come before him?  Why would his grandfather be proud of what everyone else is ashamed of?  How might shaming him into behaving be effect or ineffective?  Why does his mother send him to his grandmother?  Why does he feel the need to apologize?  Why was he particularly ashamed to have his grandmother see him act that way?  Discuss the psychology behind City having to choose his own switch to be whipped by his grandmother.

Does City feel differently about girls and boys?  How does his life reflect his observation of gender roles?

Does City’s voice sound the same in the text within the text?  Why does the book start with an ellipsis?  He is simultaneously reading and writing the text… how?  And how does what he experiences in each affect what he puts down on its pages?

Why is Shalaya Crump so fascinated with the future?  Why doesn’t City share her fascination?  When he thinks that Baize looks like him and Shalaya, is this foreshadowing or a clue to what is to come?  Does she have a different last name for any reason other than to keep the audience guessing until Laymon is ready to reveal the twist in the plot?

The white gaze in Laymon’s other texts is referenced here in the interaction between him and Coach Stroud around page 91.  Is City’s response to Coach’s reprimand typical?  Why or why not?

City attempts to explain the word “nigger” to MyMy on page 96.  How does this explanation sit with you?  Explain the significance of his feeling like he needs to make this distinction for his friend.  Is this more evidence of the white gaze at work?

Is Uncle Relle a typically hustler or a real support for City?  Does this character seem to be based on Uncle Jimmy?

What do you make of the relationship between Grandma and Ufa D?  Why is it significant?

Why doesn’t City want to get baptized?  What kind of role model is the Reverend?  Why does City repeatedly curse during the non-dialogue sections at the church around page 150?  Is this intentionally blasphemous or does it serve some other purpose?  Talk about the irony of City’s grandfather drowning and him bein so sure that baptism would be the death of him. 

How did the book get into the shed?  Are there only 2 copies?  What is Pot Belly’s connection to any of it?  Is he a version of Evan Altschuler, perhaps?  Why is City so intent on bringing LaVander to the shed?  Why hasn’t he shown up in the book?  At that point, could you predict the ending?

How do they control what period of time they travel to through the hole?  Or do they?  If they do, why can’t they be more deliberate about the changes they are making? 

Are the 3 animals City encounters around page 144 a metaphor for something else?

On page 168, Baize prepares a meal for City.  How is what she offers him indicative of a poor person’s mentality?  Is she a typical southern teenage girl?  How so or how not?  What is the picture she drew that City discovers on page 178?  Why is it significant?

Is it the time travelers that are special or it is simply the hole in the ground that makes the difference?

Who does City meet in the hole during his final travel inside the book?

As you understand it, what is the difference between the fiction in your head and the real life you live?

What do you make of the ending?  Do you still have unanswered questions?  Do you think this is intentional on Laymon’s part?  Why or why not?

Carlos Ruiz Zafon has written multiple texts that are critically acclaimed in English and in his native tongue of Spanish.  The second book of a trilogy is how I first came to know him.  Welcome to The Angel’s Game.  Happy reading!

1. The novel begins with David’s recollection of the first time he tasted “the sweet poison of vanity” by writing for a living. How much of his career is fueled by vanity versus poverty? Why was it so difficult for him to heed Cristina’s warnings about selling out to greedy publishers?

2. Like Carlos Ruiz Zafón’s previous novel, The Angel’s Game is written in the first person. What does David reveal about his view of the world as he tells us his story? How might the novel have unfolded if it had been told from Andreas Corelli’s point of view?

3. Sempere influenced David’s life by giving him a copy of Great Expectations. Later returned to him by Corelli, the book still bore the bloody fingerprints of David’s father. How did David’s childhood resemble a Dickens novel? How was he affected by his parents’ history? How did books and booksellers save him? What is the most memorable book you received as a child?

4. Discuss the Cemetery of Forgotten Books, described especially vividly in chapter 20 (act one). What do the contents of the cemetery say about which books have long lives, and which ones are overlooked? What is required to honor the soul of a book, applying Sempere’s belief that a book absorbs the soul of its author and its readers?

5. What is the common thread in each of Corelli’s tactics for luring David? How did you interpret his “dream” of Chloé? What made David a vulnerable target?

6. What aspects of his identity does David have to leave behind when he becomes Ignatius B. Samson, author of City of the Damned (chapter 7, act one)? What does The Steps of Heaven say about who he wants to be and who Irene Sabino became?

7. How does Pedro Vidal justify his exploitation of David, stealing the woman he loves and capitalizing on David’s prowess as a writer? How did your opinion of Vidal shift throughout the novel? Does he redeem himself in chapter 22 (act three)? Describe someone whom you idolized early in your career who later proved to be untrustworthy.

8. In chapter 24 (act one), Corelli reveals his plan to David, describing religion as “a moral code that is expressed through legends, myths or any type of literary device.” Does this definition match your experience with religion? What do Lux Aeterna and Corelli’s project indicate about faith and the written word?

9. How did you react to the revelations about Ricardo Salvador at the end of chapter 14 (act three)? What had your theories been about Corelli’s network?

10. Explore the novel’s title. Ultimately, who are the angels in David’s world? What are the rules of Corelli’s game? Who are its winners?

11. Discuss Barcelona, especially the traces of renowned architect Antoni Gaudí, as if the city were a character in the novel. How do the tower house in Calle Flassaders (first described in chapter 8, act one) and Vidal’s Villa Helius, along with the cathedrals, cemeteries, the Ramblas, and other locales, set the tone for The Angel’s Game?

12. What is the effect of reading a novel about a novelist? What truths about the intersection of art and commerce are reflected in the story of Barrido & Escobillas and in their subsequent demise at the hands of an even more controlling publisher?

13. If you had been Inspector Víctor Grandes, would you have believed David’s story in chapters 18 and 19 (act three)?

14. How did you interpret the novel’s closing scene, particularly the presence of Cristina? Throughout the novel, how did David reconcile the ideal of Cristina with the realities of circumstance?

15. What is special about the bond between David and Isabella? What do they teach each other about love? If you have read The Shadow of the Wind, discuss your reactions to Daniel’s heritage, revealed in the epilogue.

An homage to James Baldwin was put together a few years ago under the direction of the prolific Jesmyn Ward (shoutout to the MFA program at University of Michigan and to the tradition of southern writers to which she belongs).  Ward chose to call her collection of essays The Fire This Time and to use contemporary authors to address many of the same themes that Baldwin explored in his seminal text.  As you engage with the work through the questions listed below, I invite you to consider how many of these social dilemmas explored in both texts still affect the lives of far too many of us.  Happy reading!

1)  Baldwin calls it the fire next time.  Ward names it the fire this time.  What does the fire represent to you?  Is it concrete or abstract?  Simply race or something larger?  How does the title of the collection enflame you?

2)  For many in this country, Emmett Till will always be the quintessential example of how our skin color can be sufficient to warrant a death sentence without any other provocation.  With the more recent deaths of those like Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner, Mike Brown, Sandra Bland, and the like, are you more incensed or desensitized?  How can we stoke the embers without burning out?

3)  Do you feel the conversation Ward tries to invoke here is necessary?  Is it successful?  Why or why not?

4)  Which piece moved you the most?  Which one moved you the least?  Why?

5)  The book is divided into 3 sections:  Legacy, Reckoning, and Jubilee.  Do these divisions seem appropriate or negligible?  In what other ways might you classify the works in this collection?

6)  Which contributors were  you familiar with prior to reading this text?  Does this work seem consistent with other writing you’ve seen from them?  Why or why not?

7)  Can you think of anyone whose work you would like to see be a part of this conversation?  What do you think this addition could contribute?  In other words, what gaps in the conversation would it address?

8)  Some pieces were written specifically for this collection while others were adopted.  Does that make a difference in their effectiveness in your eyes?  Why or why not?

9)  Is Jesmyn Ward uniquely qualified to serve as editor for this collection?  Why or why not?  Is there another you would have rather seen take on the role?  Who and why?

10)  Of the 16-17 (depending on whether you choose to count Ward’s introduction) contributors, the majority of the pieces are written by women (10-11 vs. 6).  Do you view this as an intentional choice on the part of the editor or simply the consequence of the way academia is constructed?  Does this knowledge alter your perception of the overall collection?  Why or why not?

One of the most prolific writers that has ever lived was James Baldwin.  (You may see people use the word “arguably” in a sentence like this.  Those people are full of it.  He was, absolutely and with no equivocation, one of the greatest voices to ever craft narrative.  Not one of the best black voices (although he certainly loved and wrote for us), but one of the greatest of any race, ethnicity, or creed and this is true across both fiction and non-fiction.  One of his most lauded works is The First Next Time, which you can examine using the questions below:

Baldwin’s legacy is readily apparent in the work of Ta-Nehisi Coates. The title of Coates’ most-recent, award-winning non-fiction book can even be found on page 27 of The Fire Next Time.  What other contemporary authors and/or artists are you aware of whose work shows the influence of this seminal writer?“…if we had not loved each other none of us would have survived” (p. 7). With this line, Baldwin explores the complicated dynamic of his family, but his words ring true for more universal application.  How do you see love as an instrument of survival and method of salvation?In “My Dungeon Shook,” one of Baldwin’s major themes is self-definition, a common idea expressed by other writer/activists of the time. How has this continued lack of autonomy supplanted by popular media shaped the current climate among African-Americans?  Do we have a common definition?  Do we need one?In “Down at the Cross,” Baldwin equates the meaning of the word “religious” with the word “safety.” In what ways do we “pretend to convenient beliefs” (in the words of Audre Lorde) rather than to acknowledge our true spiritual selves?Baldwin calls education an illusion, stating: “I had already encountered too many college-graduate handymen” (19).  In your own experience, is he citing the exception or the rule?Baldwin notoriously struggled with his religious upbringing in combination with his sexuality and the social injustice he witnessed in his lifetime. He makes an attempt explain God in the following quote:  “If the concept of God has any validity or use, it can only be to make us larger, freer, and more loving.  If God cannot do this, then it is time we got rid of Him” (47).  Is his suggestion of God as a concept rather than a literal being offensive or blasphemous?  Why or why not?Growing up, Baldwin struggled with the idea of becoming a writer, despite an obvious propensity for the craft. When he says, “For the horrors of the American Negro’s life there has been almost no language” (69), the reader is hit with the idea that we must create the language necessary to tell our stories.  In what ways does Baldwin invent language to express the Black experience?In the 60s, Baldwin was intrigued by the power exhibited by the Nation of Islam, though he had fundamental differences with leader The Honorable Elijah Muhammad. In his assessment of their single-minded answer to the racial problem in the United States, Baldwin reasons:  “The glorification of one race and the consequent debasement of another – or others – always has been and always will be a recipe for murder” (82).  Are there factions within the current Black Lives Matter movement that exhibit similar problematic thinking?  Are there other current movements, religious or otherwise, that come to mind when considered in this light?One of the reasons Baldwin’s work has endured the test of time is his unwavering commitment to the pride of his people and, in particular, to the strength and indomitable spirit of the race. One passage in which he expresses this sentiment is as follows:  “That man who is forced each day to snatch his manhood, his identity, out of the fire of human cruelty that rages to destroy it knows, if he survives his effort, and even if he does not survive it, something about himself and human life that no school on earth – and, indeed, no church – can teach” (99).  How does this idea connect individual responsibility to collective racial consciousness?Baldwin’s title has obvious religious overtones. What ideas other than religion seem to hearken back to the theme of destruction or ultimate power within the two essays the book contains?

Some years ago, I picked up a book in the bargain section of my local bookstore on a whim.  It turned out to be one of the best books I’ve ever read.  Ladies and gents and everything in between, I present in depth questions for Rachel Kadish’s From a Sealed Room:

Considering that Americans are notoriously insensitive with regard to ethnicity and culture, are you surprised that a novel of this tone, depth and magnitude could be written by an American?
If the three lead female characters, which do you most readily identify with and why?
How does Maya’s observations of Tami and Nachum’s relationship influence her own relationship with Gil?
Maya and Shifra come from different cultural backgrounds. In what ways are their situations more alike than it would appear on the surface? How do their religious differences play into the relationship?
Though often reserved when in her presence, in what way does Dov challenge Maya’s outlook on romance and love?
Maya is a young, educated woman traveling abroad from the United States. She is running from and to a series of unfortunate events. How is the like and different from other comparable heroines in contemporary literature?
How does Tami’s experience with her own family color the way that she reads Maya’s situation? How about Shifra? What would your advice to Maya have been regarding Gil?
How does Shifra’s vascillation between English and Hebrew parallel her shifting through, opinions and relations with Maya?
Both Fanya and Maya’s mother subscribe to different tenets where romantic relationships are concerned. Do their opinions on love, marriage and male/female commitments reflect larger societal trends? Are Tami’s and Maya’s reactions to their respective pressures typical of women of their culture and/or generation?
How does Gil’s confession of his military background affect his relationship with Maya? Do you think Dov and his friends are justified in responding the way that they do?
Maya speculates at various points in the novel about what Shifra wants from her. What, in your opinion, is the source of Shifra’s obsession with “the American”? do you think her faith is justified?
As an American looking back on it, what are your feeling about the Gulf War? What did this novel teach you about those affected that you may not have considered before?
Nachum, Gil and Dov are the leading male characters in the book. How does their respective presences contribute to the confinement or release of the women in the story?
In your opinion, do any of the characters find true freedom by the end of the story? Which ones and in what way(s) do you consider them to be free?
Tami lived in Jerusalem during the SCUD missile attacks, thereby necessitating her exposure to the “sealed room.” Shifra is a Holocaust survivor who was imprisoned in her own “sealed room” during World War II. What constitutes Maya’s “sealed room” and how does she manage to escape from it, if she does at all?
Why do you think that the author chose the following quotes to open her novel? Does either of them mean anything in particular to you?
“Most people interviewed perceived that the defenses were there to protect them, and nobody expressed a wish that they be removed.” – Camilo Jose Vergara, The New American Ghetto

“For the sky is large and tears are small

Close your eyes every first rain

And think of me“

Max Gat-Mor, The Last Summer (song performed at a 1995 memorial service for Yitzhak Rabin)