Book Review: Moloka’i

A review of Moloka'i, a novel about Hawaii, leprosy, tragedy and hope by Alan Brennert.

I picked up Moloka'i by Alan Brennert because I love historical fiction, especially when it is about a culture I'm unfamiliar with. I had a few reservations, since Alan Brennert is not a native Hawaiian, but reviews suggested he had done his due diligence so I decided to give it a try. The story follows the life of Rachel Kalama in Hawaii during the late 1800s and early 1900s. The main focal point of Rachel's life is her battle with leprosy and quarantining in a lepers' colony in her childhood years.

What I Disliked

The book itself is very slow, and Rachel isn't a compelling character. In the early chapters I had some attachment to the character—despite knowing that she would end up at the leper colony, the reaction of her family and their subsquent attempts to hide the disease was solidly done. After that, it went downhill. The novel is character driven, but unfortunately I didn't particularly care what happened to Rachel.

Warnings

There are a couple topics touched that could be triggers, such as suicide and domestic violence. Also, since it is a coming of age novel, there are also a few sexual passages. None of these are particularly explicit, but I did want to make it known that it does appear. There is also a transgender character in the story; their struggle with gender is mentioned briefly, but that isn't the primary focus of the character. None of these soured the book for me (but I was also fairly detatched from the story by the time these themes and topics entered the story).

What I Liked

I like to end on a positive note, so let's discuss what I did like about the novel. For starters, I actually listened on audio book and the woman reading the novel did a phenomenal job. The novel contained a lot of historical information which would have made for a great documentary. As I mentioned, I love reading about different cultures. The smattering of Hawaiian words keep you rooted in Hawaii, which I enjoyed.

Would I Recommend?

A lot of people seem to love this book, so I clearly have an unpopular opinion in not enjoying it. I would not suggest it to someone, but if you were already thinking about it and love character driven stories, you may enjoy it.

Book Review: Before We Were Yours

Before We Were Yours by Lisa Wingate

Last Sunday, I sat down to read and determined that I would read for an hour or two. The book I chose to start was Before We Were Yours by Lisa Wingate. Taking inspiration by the very real events surrounding the Tennessee Children's Home Society from the 1930s to 1950, the novel weaves together the story of a modern day, privileged, daughter of a Senator and a group of orphaned siblings trying to stay together and find their way home. An hour or two quickly turned into all day as I became engrossed in the story.

I had never heard of the scandal surrounding Tennessee Children's Home Society. Reading the book definitely inspired me to look into the history of what happened. It sounds like something from a dystopian novel, but it happened, and it happened right on the cusp of my own parents' birth! Knowing that this could be someone's reality added gravity to the story that left me extremely thankful for my upbringing.

The story follows two characters: Audrey and Rill. Audrey is 30 years old, navigating her career as an attorney in the shadow of her powerful family of senators. Rill is a 12 year old child struggling to keep her siblings together after they end up in the Tennessee Children's Home Society. What I loved about the author's style is that she made both characters believable. They both have strengths and weaknesses, as well as realistic character flaws. Audrey, though well meaning, occasionally slips into a privileged Southern belle, which only brings us to sympathize with the much poorer and disenfranchised Rill. Rill isn't a super hero, she behaves exactly as a 12 year old would and her commentary on the black people she encounters is quite fitting of a white child living in pre-Civil Rights Tennessee. Aside from being from the South and female, I don't have much in common with either character, yet I found myself invested in what would happen to them, rooting for their success, and concerned about their well being. This is a testament to the weight of the story and why I would recommend it to anyone.

Disclaimer for those wondering if it is appropriate for their teen and/or people who have experience with sexual assault: Given the premise of the book, you can expect their to be some gruesome parts of the book. Nothing is ever explicitly detailed though sexual assault and murder are heavily implied.

Book Review: Kindred

Most books fit in a spectrum within 1 of 3 categories: (1) I couldn't finish it, (2) it was entertaining enough to finish, (3) I could not put the book down. Kindred by Octavia Butler falls in category 3. I picked up the book around 6:30 or 7pm when I got home from work and with the exceptions of getting ready for bed and eating dinner, I didn't put the book down until about 1:30-2am when I had turned the last page.  Needless to say I was completely sucked into the story and obsessively concerned with what happened to the characters.

Kindred follows the strange "adventure" of protagonist Dana who time travels from 1976 to 1819 (and subsequent 19th century years) unexpectedly. The time travel aspect solidifies it as science fiction fantasy, which is the norm for award wining science fiction author, Octavia Butler. However, with majority of the story taking place in the past, it reads like historical fiction more than science fiction (luckily I'm a fan of both!). It's a strange mix, but it works.

Generally when I think of time travel I think of it the way I would think of a super power, and in my experience it's usually shown positively—a chance for someone to save the future—or as a bittersweet challenge such as in The Time Traveller's Wife. Dana, however, is a Black woman, born and raised in 1976 L.A. who is transported to a plantation in early 19th century Maryland. Can you imagine the horror? Dana's time travel seems to be linked to a young white boy (whom she witnesses grow) named Rufus Weylin. Though Dana can't control when she appears in Rufus' time (or when she returns to 1976), she always appears just in time to save Rufus' life. Regardless of Dana's role in saving Rufus' life, each visit brings her closer and closer to death, leaving her afraid, even while safely in 1976, that she will never regain her freedom.

At the end of the book I was initially disappointed; there were many questions I had that were not answered and I didn't necessarily feel like "justice" was served. After a few minutes (literally, about about 5-10 minutes) I began to think the end was perfect—it's real. There was no neat tidy end to slavery and justice wasn't really served. People were bought and sold, and no one ever knew what became of the family or friends they lost.

Warning: the following text contains spoilers. Hover over text to reveal.

Dana discovering Rufus is her distant relative and stumbling upon the relationship that led to their relationship is one of the most emotional points in the book. While most Blacks in America today have white ancestry dating to before it was legal for Blacks and Whites to marry or have relationships, very few of us know the circumstances of relationships. Was it always rape? Were there any consensual affairs? Rufus claims to be in love with Dana's ancestor Alice, a free Black woman who lives not far from his plantation. Alice, however, is in love with a slave named Isaac, whom she marries. Rufus rapes Alice and is caught in the act by husband Isaac who subsequently beats Rufus silly. Dana appears just in time to break up the brawl, pleading for Isaac and Alice to run and for Rufus to lie about who attacked him. Alice and Isaac mistake Dana's concern for Rufus as "white-loving" but in truth, Dana wants to make sure Alice conceives Dana's distant relative so that she doesn't cease to exist. At the time, I thought this one time incident would be the conception of Dana's relative, Isaac and Alice would escape, and all would be well with that portion of the story. Of course that's not what happened. Alice and Isaac are caught. The punishment for Isaac as a runaway slave is to lose his ears—something that would sound too gruesome to be believable if it weren't for the fact that my own great-uncle had his ear severed by angry Whites in the late 1800s (and lived so long I was able to meet him to see the handiwork for myself). Alice's punishment for helping a runaway slave is to become a slave herself—not mention the brutal beat down and dog attack she suffers as well. Rufus buys Alice and has Isaac sent further South (we never learn what happens to Isaac) and sets her up in his own bed to recover. Poor Alice is nearly catatonic and has to piece the events together bit by bit, as Dana looks after her. Just when her body begins to heal, she is given the ultimatum that she will sleep with Rufus willingly or he will beat her until she complies. Giving in to the horror, Alice becomes Rufus' sex slave bearing him two children before attempting to run once again. Rufus not only beats her when she runs but takes her children away to make her believe they have been sold. This is the final straw for Alice who then takes her life. As Dana comments to her husband, the women who lived through that era had something powerful within them, something Dana (nor I) believe that she (I) had in her (me). Her ancestor survived the initial rape, which is a hard task for any woman, but not unheard of. She attempted to run to freedom through the woods with no GPS or map and we aren't talking about a 2-3 mile journey, we're talking about crossing a whole state. She survived being mauled by a dog and beaten by men. She healed from mental trauma and coped with the loss of her husband (it's one thing for someone to die, it s quiet different for them to be sold). She endured constant rape, miscarriages, and physical abuse. And in the end the thing that brought her to her knees was the "selling" of her children. Did one of my own ancestors suffer this as well? Were the women in my family just as strong? Am I that strong?

Kindred is a powerful book that will make you ask if you could have endured what the Black characters from 1819 endured, and if you are Black it will also remind you of the strength our ancestors had which is still running through our own veins.

Book Review: Purple Hibiscus

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is a Nigerian writer who debuted her talents with Purple Hibiscus. The novel takes place in Nigeria during a time of political turmoil (it is postcolonial, though I'm not sure the year) and centers on a young girl named Kambili. Kambili's father is a devout Catholic who is very strict, abusive, and enforces a very structured lifestyle in his household. When Kambili and her brother Jaja visit their aunt for awhile, they experience a bubbly, happy family for the first time and the fragile life they have at home begins to deteriorate. The 15-year-old Kambili must learn to blossom from a shy teenager to a confident young woman amongst the turmoil.

Purple Hibiscus reminded me a little of Go Tell It On The Mountain by James Baldwin. I loved that it was peppered with Igbo words and phrases, one of the things that took me away from comparing it to Go Tell It On The Mountain and grounded me in a different location. As a Protestant, I found myself out of touch with the Catholic aspects of the book, but it only made me side with the main character more. I found the end of the book to be much more interesting and satisfying than the beginning. Having read raving reviews of Ms. Adichie's Half of a Yellow Sun and Americanah, I decided to give this book a try when I saw it on the shelf. While I liked the novel, and would recommend it, I think I expected more. All things considered, I am still likely to read her other novels.

Book Review: The Invention of Wings

The Invetntion of Wings

by Sue Monk Kidd

This book is from the author of The Secret Life of Bees, which although I haven't read yet, I love the movie. Between the back cover synopsis and blind faith from The Secret Life of Bees, I decided to give this book a whirl. It did not disappoint.

Summary

The book is inspired by the life of women's rights activist and abolitionist Sarah Grimke, although it is not a biography (or non-fiction for that matter). The story is told through the eyes of both Sarah and a slave named Handful, each alternately telling their story. Sarah and Handful strike a forbidden and complex friendship when ten-year-old Handful is given to Sarah as an eleventh birthday present. As the two girls grow up together, their worlds change, but both are on a quest to find freedom. 

What I Like

The uneasy friendship between Sarah and Handful is quite delightful to watch grow. Handful is delightfully spirited--taking a lot of trouble-making qualities from her mother. She is strong-minded and determined despite her position as a house slave. Initially Sarah is eager to make a difference in the world but less forceful in her attempts to defy the restrictions placed on her as a women. The juxtaposition of the two characters works very nicely and adds likability to both characters. I was worried that the book would be a bit depressing, but the sad and terrible moments are handled well.

Whether the story was focused on Sarah's quest to bring equality to both the races and the sexes or Handful's attempts to get her freedom, I found myself engrossed in the story. While I found Handful's portions of the story to be more captivating, Sarah's story was quite inspiring as well. The story was engaging enough that I stayed up later than intended two nights in a row to finish the book. 

What I Didn't Like

There was nothing about this book I didn't like. I definitely recommend it!