Purple Hibiscus by Chimimanda Ngozi Adichie

Every year Maryland selects one book that its citizen can all read at the same time. This program is called One Maryland, One Book, and it's a great program worth participating in, if you're in the state. Not only do libraries carry extra copies of that year's title, but there are book discussions scheduled, and usually events where the author speaks about their book and its topics. This year's selection for OMOB is Purple Hibiscus by Chimimanda Ngozi Adichie, and it's fantastic.

I know the book discussions are not until September and October, but I decided to read the book selection early this year. I didn't want to have to compete for a library copy of the book, especially if I wanted to listen to Purple Hibiscus on audio. I highly recommend the audio version, performed by veteran audio book narrator Lisette Lecat. There's a lot of the Nigerian Igbo language used through the story, so hearing Lecat pronounce those terms as well as all the characters names is really helpful as someone not familiar with Nigerian languages.

I've read some reviews that suggest that Purple Hibiscus starts slowly for them, but I did not have that experience. The vivid descriptions and breathless tone that Adichie sets from the beginning absolutely mesmerized me. As a survivor of an abusive religious home, I identified almost completely with Kambili and Jaja and their mother. The emotions described are breathtakingly, terrifyingly real. Considering the vast difference in ethnic and socio-economic status between myself and the characters, that's quite a feat of writing.

The story does build slowly, as we come to know Kambili, her dutiful, quiet mother, her smart, responsible brother Jaja, and their obsessively devout, terrifying, loving, abusive, unstable, magnanimous, controlling Papa, Eugene. It's a testament to Adichie's writing that as despicable as their Papa is, he's also almost a sympathetic character, with hints at what horrors must have warped him into the monster he's become.  These character's world is so small and quiet and restricted as the story starts, but it opens, slowly, like the titular hibiscus blooming. Slowly new additions arrive in their circle. Their grandfather. Their Auntie Ifeoma and their three cousins. A new, young, and vital native-born priest. Each character is sharply drawn, distinct and life-like. And where new people enter the circle, so do new places and new experiences.

Kambili, the brilliant and dutiful daughter, mesmerized by her controlling father, has learned to internalize her experiences, due to her home life, which makes her a great narrator. But even she finds herself slowly opening up to new experiences as the story progresses and as she sees her beloved brother Jaja begin to open up. Interspersed throughout their personal narrative is a tale of civil unrest in post-colonial Nigeria, complete with coups and government corruption and assassination and suppression of the press. All of this only adds to the tension in this family's world, as Kambili's father and the editor of the newspaper he owns are outspoken critics of the oppressive government.

Overall, Purple Hibiscus is a mesmerizing look at issues of justice, both large and small, seen through the eyes of several very vulnerable characters. It also offers a bit of hope for what small changes in circumstances can bring about in the quality of life for both individuals and countries. I highly recommend this book. My only caveat would be a content warning: if you're triggered by reading vivid accounts of domestic abuse, both emotional and physical, read with care. Otherwise, please join the rest of Maryland in reading a great book that grapples with so many different but important topics. The more we know and understand about our world, the better we can resist injustice.

Maryland Humanities 2017 One Maryland One Book

Girl Waits with Gun by Amy Stewart

I admit I choose this book because of the stylish cover and provocative title assuming it would be an historical mystery similar to the Maisie Dobbs series. It had that same well researched, early 20th century, proto-feminist vibe. I got the well researched part right. I was about ⅓ of the way through wondering if I should switch to something easier like The Hammett Hex or Caramel Crush (my Trump era escapist reading list has been heavy on the cozy mysteries.) I glanced at the book’s endnotes and noticed a photo of Constance Kopp dated 1916 followed by a list of sources including documents and newspaper articles recounting a court case involving the Kopp sisters, Constance, Norma and Fleurette, and Henry Kaufman a wealthy scion of a silk magnate associated with the Black Hand. 
 

The Kopp sister’s buggy is hit by Henry Kaufman’s motor car in Paterson, NJ. The women and the buggy, but not the horse, suffer damage and Constance requests that Kaufman pay to repair the buggy. The buggy is the sister’s only means of transportation and they are of limited means. The three women live in a farmhouse in Bergen County, New Jersey and cherish their independence. Because Kaufman was drinking when he hit them Constance, the eldest, assumes he will take responsibility for the accident and pay the repair bill. He doesn’t. In fact rather than pay for the repairs he begins to harass the sisters, going as far as to  stalk them and threaten their lives with his Black Hand compatriots.

Imagine if you will a trust fund kid who has access to too much money and has never been held responsible for his misdeeds. Who doesn’t think the lives of three ordinary women matter. Who uses company money to pal around with his friends, some of whom are rumored to be gangsters. A wealthy young man who thinks poor and working women are disposable and available to him sexually because he is rich. Maybe even their boss. Maybe this book is starting to feel a little too familiar and I need to revisit those cupcake murders. Because this is a book about three ordinary women standing up to a rich, white man who thinks they don’t matter. That he is entitled to do whatever he wants to whoever he wants as long as they have less power and less money than he does. Kaufman has the local police on his side but the sisters have Heath, a rogue Sheriff who wants to bring down Kaufman’s gang.

The novel is a fictionalized account but all of the key elements of the story are true right down to an article in the Philadelphia Sun headlined, “Girl Waits with Gun” (11/23/1914) and the court case that ended the threats to the Kopp sister’s lives and settled the bill for the damaged buggy. There is lot’s of action, a juicy backstory, snappy writing and a side mystery that will keep you reading. Although Constance is the lead character all three of the Kopp sisters hold their own and you will root for them and despite the odds they win. You might even say they persisted.

Queer There and Everywhere: 23 People who Changed the World

If you’re like me right now, you’re struggling. We want to keep fighting. We have to resist. But, wow, some days sustaining that fight is just too exhausting. Some days I don’t have the energy to read a heavy, serious, depressing book about issues, no matter how much those issues matter. Some days I want something that’s an easy read. But why not have an easy read that also addresses the issues I care about?

That is exactly what you will get with reading Queer There and Everywhere: 23 People Who Changed the World, written by Sarah Prager, an author and activist who identifies as queer herself. In short, engaging, and well-researched segments, Prager lays out some basics facts about 23 people throughout history up through the present who fit into the LGBTQ+ category in one way or another. Some of them are household names (Eleanor Roosevelt. Jeanne d’Arc. Abraham Lincoln!). Some are perhaps less famous, but still recognizable names (Alan Turning, Lili Elbe, Frida Kahlo). And others are not household names, but should be (Josef Kohout, Kristina Vasa, Bayard Rustin). Sandwiched among the stories are explanations of related concepts and issues, like pronoun usage and relevant historical and/or cultural perspectives. There’s a thorough introduction, and a glossary of related terms after the stories, as well as a bibliography with further resources for study.

Is this an in-depth look at this important but far too often contentious issue? Not exactly. It’s a short, compulsively readable collection written on a young adult level. But what it is is a primer, an introduction, an easy read that conveys a lot of important stories, including the most important message of all—you are not alone. Regardless of your sexuality you are not alone. You are beautiful and important. Don’t believe the lies. 

So if you don’t think this resistance read sounds heavy-hitting or comprehensive enough for you, pick up a copy to share with someone else in your life instead.  Queer people aren’t a new phenomenon. They deserve as much love and respect as any other human out there, obviously. And it’s good to remind us all of that from time to time. Remind us of why we resist, who we resist for, and how we can keep resisting, like so many of the fierce, beautiful people featured in this book did and continue to do.