Search
Search results
Levels of the Game
John McPhee and William Fiennes
Book
Described by Robert Lipsyte as 'the high point of American sports journalism', John McPhee's Levels...
Pimp My Text PRO - Send Color Text Messages with Emoji 2
Social Networking and Lifestyle
App
SEND COLOR TEXT MESSAGES! Stop sending boring black/white texts! ABOUT THE PRO VERSION + 36 NEW...
AF
A Final Grain of Truth
Book
This is the final instalment of revered journalist Jack Webster's highly acclaimed autobiography,...
Lyndsey Gollogly (2893 KP) rated Witches of Bourbon Street (Jade Calhoun #2) in Books
Jul 21, 2020
129 of 200
Kindle
Witches of Bourbon street ( Jade Calhoun book 2)
By Deanna Chase
Jade Calhoun was never fond of her empath abilities. Now she’s discovered she has another gift she’d rather not unwrap—magic. But when her mentor, Bea, becomes gravely ill and insists Jade’s the only one who can help, she’s forced to embrace her witchy side.
It’s too bad she spent a decade shunning the magical community and never learned to harness her powers. Because time’s run out. A trapped spirit has revealed a clue to Jade’s long-lost mother. The resident angel has gone rogue and disappeared with Jade’s boyfriend, Kane. And if that wasn’t enough, her ex appears to be possessed.
To save any of them, Jade will need to find a way to control her inner white witch—without succumbing to black magic. Otherwise, she’ll lose everything…including her soul.
I think this series is brigand I love the author! I’ve always loved New Orleans and I’d just love to visit and reading good books like this makes me want to go more. We follow Jade facing yet more personal demons quite literally and she finally gets a few answers to others behaviour. Definitely recommended
Kindle
Witches of Bourbon street ( Jade Calhoun book 2)
By Deanna Chase
Jade Calhoun was never fond of her empath abilities. Now she’s discovered she has another gift she’d rather not unwrap—magic. But when her mentor, Bea, becomes gravely ill and insists Jade’s the only one who can help, she’s forced to embrace her witchy side.
It’s too bad she spent a decade shunning the magical community and never learned to harness her powers. Because time’s run out. A trapped spirit has revealed a clue to Jade’s long-lost mother. The resident angel has gone rogue and disappeared with Jade’s boyfriend, Kane. And if that wasn’t enough, her ex appears to be possessed.
To save any of them, Jade will need to find a way to control her inner white witch—without succumbing to black magic. Otherwise, she’ll lose everything…including her soul.
I think this series is brigand I love the author! I’ve always loved New Orleans and I’d just love to visit and reading good books like this makes me want to go more. We follow Jade facing yet more personal demons quite literally and she finally gets a few answers to others behaviour. Definitely recommended
Graham Lewis recommended Shooting At The Moon by Kevin Ayers in Music (curated)
Victim
Book
?Victim (1961) was a landmark in the history both of the cinema and of British society. This modest...
Peter Strickland recommended Bait (2019) in Movies (curated)
I have a tough time reviewing books about Black Feminism. I enjoy reading them - well, maybe "enjoy" isn't quite the right word. They can be tough. I am glad to have read them. But how to review them? I'm a white woman, it's not really my place to critique these works. But it would be remiss of me to not talk about them - denying them the same space on my blog that I give to everything else I read is its own kind of erasure. I'm not sure how best to resolve this, but for this specific book, at least, I can talk about what I learned from it.
What I learned is that some of my childhood was straight-up racist. I always thought of my childhood as pretty idyllic - my parents were high school sweethearts, and to this day still adore each other. We lived in a house my parents owned. (My most formative years were actually spent in the house my mother grew up in; my parents bought it from my grandparents when I was seven.) We got to run around and play on a quiet neighborhood street where we knew all of our neighbors. We had pets of various species, we got technology fairly quickly since my father was a computer geek, we had a garden out back that Mom canned beans out of every year.
But I was homeschooled until eighth grade. (With Bob Jones and Abeka Books, notoriously Christian curriculum. I thought humans lived with dinosaurs well into my twenties.) We went to a conservative Christian church every Sunday. (And Tuesday. And some Fridays.) While my parents taught that I could be anything I wanted to be, the church definitely over rode that with "women should be subservient to men" and "don't trust your own judgment, ask God/your parents/the elders."
The incident that Jerkins' book brought back to mind, though, was a party I went to. I'm pretty sure it was someone's birthday party, but at a church. Not our church. There were a lot of people, though, so I could be wrong about the birthday party. It was this party where I got the tiny scar in my eyebrow - some kid broke the bat on the pinata and threw it behind him, where it hit me in the face. Before that, though, was the cake walk. There were footprints laid out on the concrete floor, and we paced around them while music played, kind of like musical chairs, I think. (I was younger than ten, my memory is a little fuzzy.) I won the cake! I thought nothing of this until reading This Will Be My Undoing.
"The cakewalk was a dance performed in the late nineteenth century at slave get-togethers. You lean or rear back and kick your feet out left and right or vice versa as you move forward......White people would watch them dance, fascinated by the exoticness of it all. These spectacles were purposeful humiliations. But the cakewalk evolved as slaves' own form of subversion. While serving at large and fancy parties in the early 1800s, they would watch well-to-do white people perform strict and stiff dances, like cotillions and quadrilles, and mimic them, exaggerating the bowing and small skips and hops and adding some high steps and jumps. In diaries kept by white people in the antebellum South, the cakewalk is not depicted as a form of satire. After all, why would a sweet slave mock his benevolent master? To white people's eyes, this imitation seemed like flattery. They were delighted that the slaves were attempting their civilized dances. In fact, they would hold competitions and the winning slaves would receive a cake, hence the name. Yet they were being mocked, right in front of their faces."
WHY WAS THIS BEING HELD AT A CHURCH PARTY? I don't recall if it was all white kids, but it probably was. My hometown was not very ethnically diverse. The more I learn - academically, politically, socially, secularly - the more I realize my childhood was pretty fucked up in a lot of different ways. I don't know if it was more or less fucked up than most white kids' childhoods - white supremacy is insidious. I was an ignorant child at the time, but to realize, decades later, how racist holding a cakewalk is, stopped me in my tracks. (Incidentally, this means that calling something "a cakewalk" has its roots in racism, like so many other things in our language. Cakewalks weren't easy - but the best dancers made them look that way.)
So that's what I can say about this book. I learned something about my childhood. Beyond that, all I will offer is that Jerkins is an excellent writer; the book flows well and is an easy read, despite the subject matter not being easy. Read it. It's important.
You can find all my reviews at http://goddessinthestacks.com
What I learned is that some of my childhood was straight-up racist. I always thought of my childhood as pretty idyllic - my parents were high school sweethearts, and to this day still adore each other. We lived in a house my parents owned. (My most formative years were actually spent in the house my mother grew up in; my parents bought it from my grandparents when I was seven.) We got to run around and play on a quiet neighborhood street where we knew all of our neighbors. We had pets of various species, we got technology fairly quickly since my father was a computer geek, we had a garden out back that Mom canned beans out of every year.
But I was homeschooled until eighth grade. (With Bob Jones and Abeka Books, notoriously Christian curriculum. I thought humans lived with dinosaurs well into my twenties.) We went to a conservative Christian church every Sunday. (And Tuesday. And some Fridays.) While my parents taught that I could be anything I wanted to be, the church definitely over rode that with "women should be subservient to men" and "don't trust your own judgment, ask God/your parents/the elders."
The incident that Jerkins' book brought back to mind, though, was a party I went to. I'm pretty sure it was someone's birthday party, but at a church. Not our church. There were a lot of people, though, so I could be wrong about the birthday party. It was this party where I got the tiny scar in my eyebrow - some kid broke the bat on the pinata and threw it behind him, where it hit me in the face. Before that, though, was the cake walk. There were footprints laid out on the concrete floor, and we paced around them while music played, kind of like musical chairs, I think. (I was younger than ten, my memory is a little fuzzy.) I won the cake! I thought nothing of this until reading This Will Be My Undoing.
"The cakewalk was a dance performed in the late nineteenth century at slave get-togethers. You lean or rear back and kick your feet out left and right or vice versa as you move forward......White people would watch them dance, fascinated by the exoticness of it all. These spectacles were purposeful humiliations. But the cakewalk evolved as slaves' own form of subversion. While serving at large and fancy parties in the early 1800s, they would watch well-to-do white people perform strict and stiff dances, like cotillions and quadrilles, and mimic them, exaggerating the bowing and small skips and hops and adding some high steps and jumps. In diaries kept by white people in the antebellum South, the cakewalk is not depicted as a form of satire. After all, why would a sweet slave mock his benevolent master? To white people's eyes, this imitation seemed like flattery. They were delighted that the slaves were attempting their civilized dances. In fact, they would hold competitions and the winning slaves would receive a cake, hence the name. Yet they were being mocked, right in front of their faces."
WHY WAS THIS BEING HELD AT A CHURCH PARTY? I don't recall if it was all white kids, but it probably was. My hometown was not very ethnically diverse. The more I learn - academically, politically, socially, secularly - the more I realize my childhood was pretty fucked up in a lot of different ways. I don't know if it was more or less fucked up than most white kids' childhoods - white supremacy is insidious. I was an ignorant child at the time, but to realize, decades later, how racist holding a cakewalk is, stopped me in my tracks. (Incidentally, this means that calling something "a cakewalk" has its roots in racism, like so many other things in our language. Cakewalks weren't easy - but the best dancers made them look that way.)
So that's what I can say about this book. I learned something about my childhood. Beyond that, all I will offer is that Jerkins is an excellent writer; the book flows well and is an easy read, despite the subject matter not being easy. Read it. It's important.
You can find all my reviews at http://goddessinthestacks.com