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Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
9.1
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'Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out...
Those Bones Are Not My Child
8.0
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Those Bones Are Not My Child is a staggering achievement: the novel that Toni Cade Bambara worked on...
Lover at Last (Black Dagger Brotherhood, #11)
8.6
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In the darkest corners of the night in Caldwell, New York, a conflict like no other rages. The city...
Whatchareadin (174 KP) rated Wild: A Journey from Lost to Found in Books
May 10, 2018
After losing her mother, ending her marriage and changing her name,Cheryl Strayed decided she was going to hike the Pacific Crest Trail. The idea came to her after seeing a guidebook in the checkout line. She had planned on reading the book prior to her hike, but that didn't work out so well. She started reading the night before she started hiking. She did it alone and it took her 3-4 months to do it.
Well, I know that I could never take on a task like that. At least not in the way she did it. Backpacking 1100 miles from California to the Oregon/Washington border. Sleeping outside, meeting strangers, crossing paths with rattlesnakes, watching black bears walk by. But she went into the wilderness totally unprepared. Her shoes were too small, her pack was too heavy and financially(who needs money when they're backpacking?)
All of these and more obstacles she overcame in order to accomplish the task at hand. Hiking the PCT.
Well, I know that I could never take on a task like that. At least not in the way she did it. Backpacking 1100 miles from California to the Oregon/Washington border. Sleeping outside, meeting strangers, crossing paths with rattlesnakes, watching black bears walk by. But she went into the wilderness totally unprepared. Her shoes were too small, her pack was too heavy and financially(who needs money when they're backpacking?)
All of these and more obstacles she overcame in order to accomplish the task at hand. Hiking the PCT.
Salute the Dark
9.0
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Adrian Tchaikovsky's epic Shadows of the Apt continues with the fourth instalment in this...
The Rose That Grew From Concrete
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Here now, are Tupac Shukar’s most honest and intimate thoughts conveyed through the pure art of...
Ryan Hill (152 KP) rated Black Panther (2018) in Movies
May 11, 2019
"Bury me in the ocean with my ancestors who jumped from the ships, 'cause they knew death was better than bondage"
Full of life, joy, sorrow, and hilarity; Ryan Coogler's Black Panther just has a vibrancy you rarely find in the superhero scene, let alone blockbusters. Enriched with a deep, abiding love for African culture and Afrofuturism; the movie just feels purposeful. Important. Meaningful. Context matters here, as Black Panther will become one of very few films populated by African Americans not dealing with slavery or black history to thrive financially. And that cast is phenomenal. Boseman's soft-spoken panther-of-few-words is the rare MCUer to opt for a moment of silence rather than a snarky comment. Michael B Jordan brings an unmistakable swagger to the perpetually weak slate of Marvel villains, conveying a crushingly sad and challenging story that could just as easily be regarded as the true hero of the film. Letitia Wright as the genius tech maestro was a blast, a character who could give Tony Stark a run for his money both technologically and charismatically. And these are just three of Coogler's creations; drawn from a slate of inspired, unique and wonderfully represented roles for black actors...many of whom will deservingly use this as a career springboard of sorts.
I remember years ago I read a book about the cultural significance of various comic book locales, and the Wakanda entry struck me as uniquely sad and inspiring. Wakanda, a place busting with innovation, tradition, and pride...hidden from the world. Sort of an alternate-timeline Africa which wasn't poisoned irreparably by colonialism and all its horrors. There's a sad duality obvious in this Wakanda, that being for it to exist, it must be hidden. Must be quietly nurtured, developed and treasured. It's an apt metaphor in relation to black pride, culture, and history; something constantly being reworked, reshaped and reimagined to put a sordid past (and present) in the rear-view mirror by those who perpetrate it, knowingly or not. This idea, that for something to thrive it must be isolated, is at the heart of Black Panther. You can understand why T'Challa, and generations before him, sacrificed anything to preserve the myth of Wakanda. But you can also understand Killmonger's feeling of betrayal. The profound moral objections inherent in a small community turning it's back on a larger suffering population in the name of self-preservation. There's no heroes and villains when Black Panther is at it's best, just two sides to a terrifying moral question *loaded* with historical weight.
Because Killmonger isn't really a villain. The best illustration of this is the contrasting "dream" sequences, in which T'Challa shares a promise with his father within a transcendentally beautiful African landscape, and Killmonger is confronted by all his pain, suffering and moral rigidity in the vast concrete jungle of Oakland, in the tiny apartment where his father was murdered for trying to make a difference. They both wake up with tears in their eyes, some from pain and some from catharsis. Coogler marks the chasm between T'Challa's and Killmonger's pasts so perfectly, and illustrates exactly why they feel the way they do with such wisdom. Black Panther so clearly empathizes with Killmonger and understands where his pain was born, and the horrors that nurtured it.
And so there's no hero and no villain to this movie. Just two men in nearly identical black panther suits, clashing over how Wakanda ought to venture into a new era. Nobility and passion, conservation and sacrifice, incremental change against a vengeful redistribution of power and oppression. Both men are correct in their aspirations, being "right" here doesn't matter. it's tough for a good man to be king. Killmonger made T'Challa the hero he is, by instilling in him a mission, a perceived duty to turn around, face an oppressed people and finally lend a hand. But more than that, there's something miraculous here. An apology from a good man. A recognition of a sin even when it's perpetrator was, until now, helpless to prevent it. A declaration that not contributing to hate and prejudice doesn't equate to actively working to prevent it. A plea for a humble brand of superheroism, for countless ghosts of the past to be heard and change to erupt in their name. Divides to be bridged, chasms to be crossed and wrongs to be righted.
Black Panther has a complex, meaningful and profoundly challenging thematic framework; offering a fresh dissection of what it means to grapple with the sins of those who came before. Sure, there are some technical issues along the way, the machinations of Marvel storytelling are evident and errors could be found; but if you understand that superhero stories were meant to ask these sorts of questions and push boundaries since their inception; Black Panther is a dream.
I remember years ago I read a book about the cultural significance of various comic book locales, and the Wakanda entry struck me as uniquely sad and inspiring. Wakanda, a place busting with innovation, tradition, and pride...hidden from the world. Sort of an alternate-timeline Africa which wasn't poisoned irreparably by colonialism and all its horrors. There's a sad duality obvious in this Wakanda, that being for it to exist, it must be hidden. Must be quietly nurtured, developed and treasured. It's an apt metaphor in relation to black pride, culture, and history; something constantly being reworked, reshaped and reimagined to put a sordid past (and present) in the rear-view mirror by those who perpetrate it, knowingly or not. This idea, that for something to thrive it must be isolated, is at the heart of Black Panther. You can understand why T'Challa, and generations before him, sacrificed anything to preserve the myth of Wakanda. But you can also understand Killmonger's feeling of betrayal. The profound moral objections inherent in a small community turning it's back on a larger suffering population in the name of self-preservation. There's no heroes and villains when Black Panther is at it's best, just two sides to a terrifying moral question *loaded* with historical weight.
Because Killmonger isn't really a villain. The best illustration of this is the contrasting "dream" sequences, in which T'Challa shares a promise with his father within a transcendentally beautiful African landscape, and Killmonger is confronted by all his pain, suffering and moral rigidity in the vast concrete jungle of Oakland, in the tiny apartment where his father was murdered for trying to make a difference. They both wake up with tears in their eyes, some from pain and some from catharsis. Coogler marks the chasm between T'Challa's and Killmonger's pasts so perfectly, and illustrates exactly why they feel the way they do with such wisdom. Black Panther so clearly empathizes with Killmonger and understands where his pain was born, and the horrors that nurtured it.
And so there's no hero and no villain to this movie. Just two men in nearly identical black panther suits, clashing over how Wakanda ought to venture into a new era. Nobility and passion, conservation and sacrifice, incremental change against a vengeful redistribution of power and oppression. Both men are correct in their aspirations, being "right" here doesn't matter. it's tough for a good man to be king. Killmonger made T'Challa the hero he is, by instilling in him a mission, a perceived duty to turn around, face an oppressed people and finally lend a hand. But more than that, there's something miraculous here. An apology from a good man. A recognition of a sin even when it's perpetrator was, until now, helpless to prevent it. A declaration that not contributing to hate and prejudice doesn't equate to actively working to prevent it. A plea for a humble brand of superheroism, for countless ghosts of the past to be heard and change to erupt in their name. Divides to be bridged, chasms to be crossed and wrongs to be righted.
Black Panther has a complex, meaningful and profoundly challenging thematic framework; offering a fresh dissection of what it means to grapple with the sins of those who came before. Sure, there are some technical issues along the way, the machinations of Marvel storytelling are evident and errors could be found; but if you understand that superhero stories were meant to ask these sorts of questions and push boundaries since their inception; Black Panther is a dream.
Merissa (12699 KP) rated The Bite of Winter (Love Bites #1) in Books
May 5, 2023
This is a short, seasonal story of a woman who has been dealt a really rough hand, plus two Irish vampires - one of which wants to help, the other one wants to help himself... to start with. The connection that comes alive with these three is almost tangible. It is a bond that starts with the familiarity of loneliness and swiftly moves on to happier, more passionate feelings.
The Bite of Winter is the first book in a new series that I am looking forward to reading more of. The 'black' character of Seamus surely has to appear in future books.
For a hot book with a seasonal smile, I can surely recommend this one.
* A copy of this book was provided to me with no requirements for a review. I voluntarily read this book, and the comments here are my honest opinion. *
Merissa
Archaeolibrarian - I Dig Good Books!
Nov 28, 2015
The Bite of Winter is the first book in a new series that I am looking forward to reading more of. The 'black' character of Seamus surely has to appear in future books.
For a hot book with a seasonal smile, I can surely recommend this one.
* A copy of this book was provided to me with no requirements for a review. I voluntarily read this book, and the comments here are my honest opinion. *
Merissa
Archaeolibrarian - I Dig Good Books!
Nov 28, 2015
Goddess in the Stacks (553 KP) rated Sing, Unburied, Sing in Books
May 14, 2018
I know, I'm late to the party. This book made a big splash back in September - everyone was talking about it, and it won the National Book Award. My library, however, did not have enough copies to go around, and I was late putting a hold on it, so the hold I put on it in January finally came around to my turn!
In Sing, Unburied, Sing, Jesmyn Ward returns to the same neighborhood in Mississippi that Salvage the Bones was written about. (Two of the siblings from Salvage the Bones show up in a scene in Sing.) The story is told from three different viewpoints: Jojo, a thirteen-year-old boy and the main character of the novel, Leonie, his drug-addicted mother, and Richie, the ghost of a boy Jojo's grandfather met in prison.
This book covers so much that it's difficult to categorize - between discrimination and outright bigotry, bi-racial romance and children, drug addiction, poverty, prison life - deep south gothic, I suppose, would be the best description. Sing really only takes place over a couple of days, but it feels much longer, because Jojo's grandfather tells stories of his time in prison decades prior, Leonie reminisces about high school, and there's just this sense of timelessness over the entire novel.
It's not an easy book. These are hard issues to grapple with, and too many people have to live with these issues. Poverty, bigotry, addiction - these things disproportionately affect the black community, and white people are to blame for the imbalance.
I'm not sure how I feel about the ghost aspect of the book; on one hand I feel like people will see the ghost and decide the book is fantasy - that they don't really need to care about the problems the family faces. On the other hand, the ghost allows us to see even more bigotry and inhumanity targeted at black people. So it serves a purpose.
I'm not sure I like this book. But I'm glad I read it. And that's pretty much going to be my recommendation; it's not a fun read, but it's an important one.
You can find all my reviews at http://goddessinthestacks.wordpress.com
In Sing, Unburied, Sing, Jesmyn Ward returns to the same neighborhood in Mississippi that Salvage the Bones was written about. (Two of the siblings from Salvage the Bones show up in a scene in Sing.) The story is told from three different viewpoints: Jojo, a thirteen-year-old boy and the main character of the novel, Leonie, his drug-addicted mother, and Richie, the ghost of a boy Jojo's grandfather met in prison.
This book covers so much that it's difficult to categorize - between discrimination and outright bigotry, bi-racial romance and children, drug addiction, poverty, prison life - deep south gothic, I suppose, would be the best description. Sing really only takes place over a couple of days, but it feels much longer, because Jojo's grandfather tells stories of his time in prison decades prior, Leonie reminisces about high school, and there's just this sense of timelessness over the entire novel.
It's not an easy book. These are hard issues to grapple with, and too many people have to live with these issues. Poverty, bigotry, addiction - these things disproportionately affect the black community, and white people are to blame for the imbalance.
I'm not sure how I feel about the ghost aspect of the book; on one hand I feel like people will see the ghost and decide the book is fantasy - that they don't really need to care about the problems the family faces. On the other hand, the ghost allows us to see even more bigotry and inhumanity targeted at black people. So it serves a purpose.
I'm not sure I like this book. But I'm glad I read it. And that's pretty much going to be my recommendation; it's not a fun read, but it's an important one.
You can find all my reviews at http://goddessinthestacks.wordpress.com