Red at the Bone by Jacqueline Woodson: A review

Jacqueline Woodson's new book is a small treasure. Short enough that it could be called a novella rather than a novel, it still manages to address, as NPR noted in its review, "issues of class, education, ambition, racial prejudice, sexual desire and orientation, identity, mother-daughter relationships, parenthood and loss." In spare language with no wasted words, she tells a story of a family, of mothers and daughters, that will resonate with anyone who has ever lived in a family.

This is actually a story of two families from two very different backgrounds and social classes. There is Iris, the fifteen-year-old daughter of a middle class, upwardly striving African-American family in Brooklyn and Aubrey, son of a single mother barely managing to support herself and her teenage son with a combination of part-time jobs and the assistance of food stamps. The two teenagers come together compelled by their irrepressible sexual desire. Even though they try to be careful and take precautions, the time inevitably comes when their desire overwhelms their caution and the result is an unwanted pregnancy.

Iris's family is Catholic, but she knows that if she reveals the pregnancy they will press her to have an abortion. In spite of the fact that the pregnancy was not wanted, she finds that she does now want the baby. On the cusp of planning for her coming out party at sixteen, the parents learn of her condition, but it is too late to do anything about it. In the fullness of time, she delivers a daughter who she names Melody.

The novel begins as we meet Melody getting ready for her own coming of age party in 2001 at her grandparents' house. She will be wearing the custom-made dress that was sewn for her mother sixteen years before, the dress that her mother never got to wear.

Moving backward and forward in time, Woodson tells the story of these people, and through their relationships, decisions, and experiences, she gives us a portrait of the times in which they have lived. We see the very real effects and long-term consequences of children being forced to make life-altering decisions before they are prepared. And we see the strength that exists in families to support each other and make individuals stronger and help them survive difficult times.

This is a lovely and poignant story of human weakness and strength which left me with a feeling of hope. Not at all a bad recommendation for a book.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

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