An elegant, vibrant, startling coming-of-age novel, for anyone who’s ever felt the shame of being alive
Kenya Curtis is only eight years old, but she knows that she’s different, even if she can’t put her finger on how or why. It’s not because she’s black—most of the other students in the fourth-grade class at her West Philadelphia elementary school are too. Maybe it’s because she celebrates Kwanzaa, or because she’s forbidden from reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. Maybe it’s because she calls her father—a housepainter-slash-philosopher—“Baba” instead of “Daddy,” or because her parents’ friends gather to pour out libations “from the Creator, for the Martyrs” and discuss “the community.” Kenya does know that it’s connected to what her Baba calls “the shame of being alive”—a shame that only grows deeper and more complex over the course of Asali Solomon’s long-awaited debut novel. Disgruntled, effortlessly funny and achingly poignant, follows Kenya from West Philadelphia to the suburbs, from public school to private, from childhood through adolescence, as she grows increasingly disgruntled by her inability to find any place or thing or person that feels like home. A coming-of-age tale, a portrait of Philadelphia in the late eighties and early nineties, an examination of the impossible double-binds of race, Disgruntled is a novel about the desire to rise above the limitations of the narratives we’re given and the painful struggle to craft fresh ones we can call our own.
Asali Solomon was born and raised in West Philadelphia. Her first book, a collection of stories entitled Get Down, is set mostly in Philadelphia. Solomon's work has been featured in Vibe, Essence, and the anthology Naked: Black Women Bare All About Their Skin, Hair, Lips and Other Parts. She has a PhD in English from the University of California, Berkeley and an MFA form the Iowa's Writer Workshop in fiction. She is a Visiting Assistant Professor of English at Trinity College in Hartford, CT, and is on the short list for this year's Hurston/Wright Literary Award for best new fiction.
The Hurston/Wright Legacy Award 2007 nominees include ASALI SOLOMON for her collection of short stories, Get Down published by Farrar, Straus, and Giroux in 2006.
She also was named one of the National Book foundation's '5 Under 35 in 2007.
Apparently this author gave a wonderful interview on NPR about her book, leading my friend to choose it for book club. But I had difficulty understanding the author's message, and I didn't find a cohesive story that kept me turning the pages. So this ended up a DNF for me.
Kenya is a girl growing up in Philadelphia in the 1980s. She feels like an outsider at school due to her family celebrating Kwanzaa instead of Christmas. Her only friend allays her fear of her parents divorcing by making Kenya kiss her. Kenya doesn't like these kisses but doesn't necessarily object. Then the fear of her parents divorcing hits Kenya as well.
I chose to read this book first and foremost because it's a Philly book, and I have read very few books set in Philly that (I think) truly capture the feel of this city.
Disgruntled quickly moves from West Philly to Ardmore and Bryn Mawr, so it technically doesn't capture the working class center city Philly that I'm interested in, either. However, it is an excellent bildungsroman about an African American girl, Kenya, raised by a father who organizes a group sort of similar to MOVE (which I use as a point of reference because it's set in the 80's) and wants to live out of the mainstream despite growing up on the Main Line, and a mother who at heart wants to keep up with the Joneses. Asali Solomon's voice as third person narrator is unobtrusive, but she's quietly funny and sympathetic to Kenya, who finds herself some companionship but feels awkward and doesn't fully fit in anywhere.
Disgruntled, by Asali Solomon, is a coming of age story set in the late 20th century, but also an odyssey through a series of strange and confusing contexts that help Kenya, the central character, set a course for her life. These strange situations seem both to be the problem she is attempting to avoid – earnest meetings of a Afrocentric group, a polygamous commune, a prep school, a goalless Party Central – and the force helping her identify a solution to that problem.
Disgruntled explores how to go through life when the larger culture is oppressive, when you don't fit in, when you don't want to fit into what's there. It explores how to handle the shame of being alive ... the shame of being black and having a mere ten minutes to untangle your hair in the locker room after swimming (p. 66). The shame of living in a culture that excludes and puts down 10% of the population.
Whites do not come off well in this book. With few exceptions, they are privileged, misguided, and superficial. They overlook Kenya's intelligence and sensitive observations, equating worth with skin color. Blacks do not come off much better, however. Most fawn over and attempt to ally with whites. They pretend to things they are not.
There are two flawed heroes in Kenya's life: her parents. Her father was a weak, but charismatic Black Nationalist. However, Kenya's mother, who also went astray in the center of the book, had known that with Johnbrown in her life, Kenya could be proud of who she was. She wouldn’t grow up thinking that white people were gods or superheroes (p. 282).
Bottom line: Kenya's parents loved her in their ways and ultimately gave her what she needed. Her father spent her childhood writing The Key, which initially proposed a vague philosophy, although later morphed into the story of the burning of Frank Lloyd Wright's Taliesin. By the end, she recognized the key to the next part of her life, the good part, was figuring out exactly what he did mean in The Key (p. 286).
Kenya gives Disgruntled a warmth despite the significant difficulties its characters face (e.g., prison, drugs, betrayals, lies, pretense). Her voice prevents the book from devolving into nonproductive anger. She observes her parents, their friends, her peers, with compassion. While she does not always make good decisions, she responds with surprising restraint and wisdom. Her presence made this a novel that I finished and then immediately returned to. I didn't want to put it down.
Here's the thing with this book: it lacks focus. It's an easy read and mildly enjoyable, the characters have potential. Parts of the story are certainly interesting and could stand on their own if given the time. But in this coming-of-age story, events are too quickly swept away and forgotten; a new direction is given and zoom, years pass by. The story lacks clear purpose, and though this may reflect the protagonist's issues with her own identity, it does not make for a good story.
Certainly there is considerable talent shown in Disgruntled. The story is heartbreaking, riveting, and even funny at times. The characters could have brought things together if only I'd known their destination. I believe with a tighter story, Solomon could shine. She had me at moments, but in the end, I just felt lost.
I heard Asali Solomon on the radio and immediately wanted to be friends with her. Seriously, I don't think an author interview ever made me like the hell out of anyone so much. She was warm, with just the wry kind of humor I enjoy. And her book is mostly set in her home town and mine, Philadelphia. So I was excited to get this.
I was pleased by references to Frank Rizzo, Scrapple and Penn's Landing, and I always enjoyed my time with this book. She writes very rich believable characters, and it was interesting seeing race and class through her main character's eyes. That main character, Kenya, is the only child of parents who spend a lot of time and effort trying to improve things for the black community. She's an outsider in her West Philadelphia school, not allowed to watch sit-coms, eat pork or celebrate Christmas (her family celebrates Kwanzaa). Then things change for her family and she winds up at a private school in the suburbs, one of very few black students, so she's an outsider in a different way.
I have to agree with readers who say that this novel didn't quite come together as a coming-of-age story. I just wanted maybe a tiny bit more resolution? That said, I'll read everything this author writes-- this was a pleasure. Plus, I still want to be friends with her.
I appreciated the quiet restraint of the book but then again the author pulled away from some scenes that really needed to be there--opting instead for narrative summary. Some events are far too rushed, which dampens the impact the book might have had with more flushed-out scenes. What I liked very much about the book, on the other hand, was the way Solomon builds these characters into believable, flawed, interesting people, who are navigating their world in interesting ways and making mistakes along the way.
With her 2006 fiction collection "Get Down," Asali Solomon established herself as a short-form artist with a knack for writing misfits in black middle-class Philadelphia. Her first novel, "Disgruntled," is a fitting follow-up — a smart, philosophical coming-of-age tale featuring a vivid protagonist who battles "the shame of being alive."
When we first meet Kenya Curtis in the late '80s, she is in fourth grade at Henry Charles Lea School in West Philadelphia, where she has exactly one friend. Unlike the other kids in her class, Kenya celebrates Kwanzaa, calls her father Baba and is forbidden to eat bologna or say the Pledge of Allegiance. Her classmates, predominantly black, single her out for her peculiar blackness — they laugh at her when she's scandalized by the N-word, call her an "African bootyscratcher" and greet her with taunts of "boogeddy-boo."
Kenya's otherness springs from her unconventional upbringing as the only child of Sheila and Johnbrown Curtis. Sheila is the breadwinner of the family, working a steady job at a public library. Raised by a single mother in the Richard Allen projects, Sheila "loved school, hated being poor, and spent her time at home studying," eventually winning a scholarship to Franklin & Marshall College, where she was one of three black students in her class.
She is the more stable of Kenya's parents and often butts heads with her husband, much to Kenya's dismay. Johnbrown comes from a more privileged background than Sheila, but he resents his parents and rejects their values, their views on race in particular. "He's so stuck on this business about being black," his mother tells Kenya, "like he's the first person to have that problem."
A sometime house painter and fervent philosopher, Johnbrown attended Cornell to escape the draft but was expelled for trying to take over the administration building. He convenes a group of black compatriots called the Seven Days, who serve as Kenya's extended family in the absence of aunts, uncles or cousins. The Seven Days devote themselves to various forms of community service. They meet at the Curtis home to talk and share a fellowship tinged with religiosity, pouring out libations for black martyrs.
Johnbrown "could get very excited about the topic of Martin Luther King and how overrated he was"; he prefers to honor lesser-known black historical figures. He develops a particular fascination with Frank Lloyd Wright's mass-murdering butler Julian Carlton, who killed, among others, Wright's mistress and her children, after he was fired. (The novel's title first appears in connection with Carlton, in Johnbrown's voice: "I'm guessing that more regular outbursts by seriously disgruntled black employees would achieve more than three hundred sixty-five days of peaceful marches.")
He focuses much of his time and intellectual energy on a mysterious project called the Key, "a contemporary work of black philosophy that would also be a way of living for nonblack peoples who were enlightened," refusing to get a square job until it's finished.
This self-referential Key might hold the antidote to "[t]he shame of being alive…a phrase Kenya would hear in her father's voice" that "wafted in and out of her consciousness like the chorus of a song." Kenya struggled for years to understand what this meant, but as she was growing up, she "came into increasing consciousness of how fitting it was that Johnbrown had provided the language for this shame. After all, he and Sheila had created a world of opportunity for her to experience it."
Her shame only morphs and deepens as she grows older, moving from the city to the suburbs, from public school to an all-girls prep school where her father's grandmother used to clean bathrooms. She befriends the one other black girl in her class despite reservations about her personality and settles into a school life built around a clique that never seems to feel quite comfortable. In the meantime, she deals with sleepwalking, boys and her ever-changing relationships with her parents.
Solomon is a masterful writer, and "Disgruntled" is entertaining and thought-provoking in equal measure. Through her rich depictions of Kenya, her parents and their various friends, she presents a range of approaches to blackness, of different ways of being. She draws attention to some of the inner conflict that accompanies being black in America. This conflict penetrates everything in the characters' lives, from details like Sheila's appetite for "a police show that she repeatedly denounced as racist but never missed" to important questions of family, money and education, which become charged and tortured when tangled with questions of race.
"Disgruntled" seems like a book that might face an unfair amount of pigeonholing — not only is its protagonist black and female but its focus on Johnbrown's philosophy and the almost cultish Seven Days is strange and specific, with a cerebral bent that could put off the casual reader. But Solomon is a skillful guide who presents beauty and complex ideas in clear, accessible prose, with frequent punches of laugh-out-loud humor.
At one point, Johnbrown turns to fiction as part of his treatise, to understand and communicate his rubric of being. "Disgruntled" offers Solomon's own version of the Key, a philosophical contemplation made tangible and compelling through narrative.
You know what? I was going to give this book four stars, then, when I thought about the surprises in the language and the plot, I was like, let's give this five. Oh! How Solomon took me back, back to those times in my life when I was so wistful and longing for what I thought was impossible. She managed to pack so much of the Black and woman experience in so few pages without being remotely preachy. It was just so much without being overwhelming. Damn, I'm impressed.
Loved this coming-of-age story--it was sad, but never maudlin, in large part because Solomon has given her protagonist a wicked sense of humor that gives her some agency throughout the hardships she endures. In addition, Solomon's writing is precise and beautiful, Philly and its suburbs are vividly portrayed, and the story is totally immersive.
This book tells the story of Kenya Harris growing up in mid 80's Philadelphia in a Afrocentric home. Well, that angle is what sparked my attention and I was curious to see the author's perspective through the eyes of young Kenya. For the most part, the task is done well, although there were some points in the novel where she kind of clowned aspects of cultural behavior that could be considered Afrocentric.
Kenya feels out of place in school because of her home life. She celebrates Kwanzaa, doesn't participate in Christmas and the eating of pork is forbidden. The novel begins thusly, "In the first grade at Henry Charles Lea School in West Philadelphia, when Kenya told kids that she celebrated Kwanzaa, no one knew what she was talking about." By the time Kenya reaches 4th grade she is down to "one friend." Not that she had many in 1-3rd grade.
What is the problem? "It wasn’t just the Kwanzaa problem. And anyway, she could have lied about Kwanzaa like she suspected Fatima McCullers did— ....It was also that she couldn’t eat any pork, including the bologna sandwiches that were the everyday fare of the lunchroom—....It was that she wasn’t allowed to watch Gimme a Break, Good Times, or Diff’rent Strokes because, according to her mother, watching black people on TV acting the fool was worse than not watching any at all."
So anytime you have a coming-of-age story where the main character is swimming against the current cultural commonalities, that mix should make for some interesting dynamics. There are some laugh out moments in this book, Kenya is portrayed as sassy yet smart, so some of this stuff she is experiencing at home becomes quite humorous through the eyes of a child. Sheila and Johnbrown are Kenya's parents and they host a group in their home every week called the Seven Days, taken from Toni Morrison's book The Song of Solomon.
The group meets to try and figure out what they can do to uplift the community. They start each meeting by pouring libations and every week it seems like Johnbrown mentions the same man. Julian Carlton. Apparently, Julian was the butler of the famed architect Frank Lloyd Wright and one day when Frank was out of town, the mistress fired Julian but asked his wife to stay on. Well this didn't sit well with Julian, so her and everyone else in the home at the time were killed. “'How did he kill them?' asked Kenya. They all turned to her as if they’d forgotten she was there. Johnbrown looked at her. 'He set the house on fire and then stood in the main doorway with an ax in case anyone tried to escape.'"
This incident stayed in the mind of Johnbrown, who by the way attached the brown to his given name of John to make it one word. He was a some time worker, stereotypically I might add, a full time philosopher and a 100% race man who is working on a book called The Key. "(Once Kenya had asked him what he would be if he couldn’t be black and he had said, “Light- skinned.”)."He never gets to complete this book and never gets a full time job.
So when Johnbrown hooks up with one of the Seven Days members, that is enough for Sheila and she and Kenya move out. I think the earliest part of the book is the strongest and once they move out and Kenya begins a private school, her dilemmna becomes being one of the few blacks in school and how those typical interactions play out, the narrative begins to weaken. The rest of the book deals with Kenya's growing pains as she navigates high school and potentially college. Ms. Solomon does a good job of avoiding the all too easy happy ending and opts for a dose of realism which some may find sad. I think Ms. Solomon is a writer to watch, her prose is breeezy and her humor is engaging, even if you don't agree, you may find yourself chuckling. 3.5!!
A classic bildungsroman set in the 1980s in/outside of Philadelphia following young Kenya as she comes to understand her family structure, as well as better appreciate her father and his passions (even if she doesn't come to agree with them or with him).
This is a quicker read, and I would have loved even more. The third person POV was interesting and a bit removed, but it definitely made this story feel like an adult novel, rather than a YA. It's not bad at all, and certainly teen readers who love literary fiction will dig this, but I wondered how different the story would have been had we been even closer to Kenya through her own perspective.
The 80s setting here is purposeful and not at all obnoxious. This isn't about the pop culture or an opportunity to make a teen cool by loving certain bands, but rather, it's about this particular moment in time.
I started to give this 4 stars but then bumped it up to 5-- it's too compelling and satisfying not to. I loved reading this one-- Solomon has created some really wonderful characters and I just found it impossible not to route for Kenya all the way through.
Solomon's use of small details, and of smaller stories within the bigger one, is so effective. There's a richness to Kenya's world and her coming-of-age that made this book so wonderful to read. I also liked the way stories and books featured in Kenya's life, and how she tried to inscribe narratives of best-friendship, of family, of love and of sacrifice, and how that didn't necessarily provide her with the tools to author her own life. While reading, I was reminded often of Alice Munro's work, and I thought Solomon did a fantastic job of something Munro also does exceptionally: tell a story of childhood without letting the specter of adulthood cast too much of a shadow, but still without letting the reader forget that childhood is not something separate from adulthood. That this is growing up, and it can feel like being buffeted by storms from all sides, and this moment matters, not just as context or a starting point or a moral of a story, but because this is where you are.
My challenge with this book was primarily structural. It didn't feel like a novel to me. Maybe this harkens back to the Munro comparison, but it felt like short stories / novellas about a character. This can be a natural fit for coming-of-age stories, but this book was trying to be a novel, and that didn't work for me. There wasn't a strong enough narrative line, and the ending in particular suffered. It felt like a thrown-together ending point, and as someone who loves, loves, loves endings of books, I was left feeling a little disappointed, even though I did really like most of the book.
Your parents man — they don’t mean to fuck you up, but they do. This was a great story for me to read at the time that I did (just now) because it helped me to not feel like I’m the only thing in the world that’s not scattered. Disgruntled felt like it was all over the place but had levels of things to say just like my state of mind — it was a unique story about a particularly unique black experience and it was also slightly weird with plot points that included the main character shooting her mom and farming with her dad who’s bottling up his pain. I thoroughly enjoyed it but I would have liked to see main character Kenya carve out more of her own ideologies about life. I feel like everything just happened and things were neither here nor there. Writer Asali Solomon distilled the experience of ever-changing home situations to the book and it felt real. One day this is how one thing is and the next your dealing with some bullshit and on a farm in the middle of nowhere because I guess that’s how other shit is when you’re not really able to make all your own decisions as a teenager, real life shit.
There were so many background issues in Kenya’s family and I relate to that as well because again — real life. I think Asali Solomon is a writer who manages to describe people really well but there’s always something missing. It’s something essential that you don’t know what it is, but you know there’s something more you want to know. Kinda feels like this review.
Disgruntled by Asali Solomon. Disgruntled displeased and discontented; sulky; peevish. This book about a young black girl whose parents get divorced, goes to a private girls school,and ends up being put in jail after her drug dealing live in boy friend stashes marijuana in her room. The book left me disgruntled. In theory the reader is supposed to enjoy and gain insights from the journey and struggles the protagonist undergoes.The writer acts as a guide giving commentary by shaping what is presented reader. Asali Solomon does a marginal job at this task. As readers experience life from the perspective of the child, then the adolescent, and finally the young adult girl. What doesn’t happen is a connective narrative through the book. Events just happen without an overall context. Events happen and their significance is never explained or examined. The books ending is anti climatic and wholly dissatisfying.
I loved reading this book. First, I love coming of age stories. Secondly, the book is partially set in Philadelphia, so it really helped me paint a picture of the story being told.
Kenya is a great protagonist for this story. As a reader, I felt like I understood her, and in many ways I could relate to her. Her subtle observations of others were humorous. I really felt sorry for Kenya- between her lost father, her mother who definitely had earnest intentions, and longing for Commodore - she was dealt a pretty crummy hand.
This book felt very real for me- and I appreciate that the ending did not provide a real resolution.
A truly gut-wrenching trek through the coming of age of a black girl from West Philadelphia in the 1980s. Solomon's prose is amazing, her characters come to life, her take on the gritty nature of 80's West Philadelphia puts you right there. She touches on topics not normally broached like the intra-racism of Black Nationalism and how society reacts to college-bound and gifted young black students from the city. The characters are flawed, the world is so bizarre and yet so real, and all of it paints a picture of the tragedy of simply living every day. A novel that truly stays with you.
it was okay. some parts were interesting but towards the 60% mark, i was kind of ready for it to end. some interesting topics but im a little disappointed that the author didn’t flesh them out. too many loose ends that were not realistic. i saw the potential though so im not too upset. i just dont feel passionate about this.
Meh... It was good, but it never really got too good. It was just good enough to hold my attention and keep me from being bored and jumping ship. I kept waiting for something (anything!) good to happen to Kenya but this whole book was about how her life was a complete disaster... Ugh... And the ending?! Come on!!! I felt cheated. Why must every "black" book I read end so underwhelmingly? Can us colored people get a break? Can a sista get a happy ending?
I didn't really like any of the characters. Not Kenya, not her mom, not her dad and definitely not Teddy Jaffrey. Commodore was alright but not really. It makes a book a very hard read when all of the characters irritate and frustrate you. I just thought that all of their decision making was terrible. Does everyone in the book have to have a backwards way of thinking? EVERYONE?!
I liked the frequent writing breaks and every now and then there were some real Pulitzer-esque nuggets of greatness in the writing. However, the story as a whole seemed to have no purpose and I didn't really get the point of it all. But as always, maybe I'm just not smart enough to get it.
This was an odd one. While I enjoyed it overall, I also felt like it never really took off...as if it were one prolonged exposition. I loved the beginning of the book up until Kenya's parents' separation and once again when she goes to visit Johnbrown on his farm, but a lot of the middle I found difficult. Perhaps Bahni Turpin's teenage voices were a little too good (and while she remains my favorite reader, her Caribbean accent verged on a Russian accent) during that segment, but I found the dialogue between the girls hard to stomach. Still, it was a touching--and often heartbreaking--coming of age story with some excellent family dynamic written in, and I'll be interested to see what Asali Solomon's next step will be.
This is a great coming-of-age novel -- well plotted, richly characterized, and cleverly written. Asali Solomon is just a really good storyteller. One thing that stood out to me is the relatively minimal role that romance and sexuality have in the narrative (they're there, but the main character doesn't have any obsessive crushes, for example), which allows other aspects of a teen girl's life that don't often get foregrounded -- like moral and ethical questions around family, race, and class -- to remain at the center. The final series of events is a bit haphazard, but it didn't detract much from my overall impression.
What a sad book. It's not exceptionally tragic, but there's just a cloud of sadness over the whole thing. We meet Kenya as a young girl in the 80s, living with her parents - her long-suffering mother a librarian, her father a black rights activist who has an obsession with Frank Lloyd Wright's butler who set fire to his house and killed anyone who tried to escape the blaze. We follow Kenya as she grows up, experiences different worlds, and tries to evolve into her own person. Quite a bit of heartbreak entails, too. A very real story of growing up.
It was interesting to read about the different iterations of one family from the perspective of Kenya, the main character who comes of age in this novel. The writing held my attention and is very layered with issues of race, class, gender, and power. The characters are believably complex and the book is real, funny and not preachy. The ending is unsatisfying.
I loved most of this book, most especially the slow ways Kenya is failed over and over, and how this results in her making decisions based purely on the failures of those in her life who should help her. Kenya is raised in Philadelphia with her mother, Sheila the librarian, and her father, Jonbrown who sounded so suspiciously like John Africa that I assumed he was a thinly veiled caricature, until the references to MOVE in the first chapter. Her father is an activist without a plan, the very worst person to be, and her mother has her hands full being the only responsible adult in their group of friends. Little Kenya's life in turned upside down when her father gets her mother's friend pregnant, and Kenya and Sheila move to the wealthy suburbs of the city.
I don't like calling most books "coming of age" so what I will about this one is that it is a very poignant, very realistic portrayal of a black girl coming to realize that adults can fail in massive, spectacular ways, and that in the end, she has to do what she needs to do to survive. It's also a very real picture of the issues of pressure for BIPOC people who are asked to live alongside very white ideals, and what they must give up to survive. It's also humorous enough that it doesn't feel like a very heavy or sad read.
The only issue I have is with the ending. I think Kenya deserves more than having her story cut off in the middle of a thought.
This book creeps up on you. It starts slow and at some point almost midway through I was wondering where the story was going and almost DNF, but I'm glad I did. The pieces were collected and brought together neatly in the second half of the book.
There is so much honesty and authenticity in Kenya's story. Much of what Kenya feels and experiences are so common, almost dare I say universal? And yet, I've never until this point had these feelings validated in any literature I've read, until now.
The main characters were complex. Despite the one or two dramatic events, Kenya's life – although unique in the way everyone's story is – was also ordinary and plain. I think this is a story I wish I could have read when I was a teen/young adult.