Loren Anderson Anderson itibaren Bara, Uttar Pradesh 275102, India
It is nice that there is a Muslim fiction book out. And on top of that, it all happened in Indianapolis. One problem though. We read it in school and it wasn't appropriate. It was kind of extreme. Some naive paren tmight pick it up from the library and take it home for their 12 or 13 year old child to read. The problem is that it can easily confuse ANYONE. If you don't discuss it with someone who has read it, you deen can be altered. Lucky enough for me, I had my english teacher and the rest of my class to discuss it with. The girl in the book immigrates from Syria and moves to Indianapolis area. It takes place in the 70s and 80s. It goes from when the girl, Khadra, is young and her innocent parents try to "protect" her and her siblings from the "evils" of America. My first problem was the language. In the first few pages, the F word shows up quite a few times. Other words show up throughout the book but in the beginning is what bothered me the most. If it wasn't for the fact that I was reading it for a grade, I would have put it down right away. I kept reading and noticed other things on the way. As the girl matures, we hear about everything! Literally, EVERYTHING. Right when she hits puberty, we know her graphic reaction. Kind of awkward when reading it in class, with Muslim boys with you! Anyway, then when she firsts starts feeling attraction for boys (the first being her brother's best friend), we laugh about her shyness. But then, it is time for her to get married. When she does get married, we see the horror she goes through when she marries a demanding husband. When she describes her, ahem, joyful times, we stare at the pages in shock. Is this really an Islamic book? Should we even be reading this? But then again, I remember I have to read this book to pass my class so I continue. I read about how she 'accidently' got pregnant but doesn't want to have a baby. Deciding to get an abortion, she drives to the clinic with her non-Muslim friend. We read about when she gets a divorce. Before her marriage, she goes for Hajj. I was thinking, "okay so maybe the book gets better from here." Was I wrong. She gets raped. During her time in Saudi Arabia, in MECCA! And WE read about it. How sad. We read about her struggles with hijab. We read about how she started as a hijabi. We read about when she questions it. We read about when she takes it off. We read about when she puts it back on. We read about when she takes it off AGAIN. We read about when she becomes a 'liberal' hijabi. She puts it on when she feels like it. We read about how she is friends with this other not practicing muslim guy, with whom she discusses about 'deepening' the friendship physically. I was in shock about their discussions. I don't even feel like continuing about the book anymore. I think I will take a break about this review and move on. Please, if you do read this book, read it with care.
I totally loved this book when I read it in October 1998, and re-read it again recently and loved it just as much the second time. Emily "Blue" McCarron is a social psychologist, lesbian, loving owner of a doberman, Bronte, who consults with business owners on how to improve their businesses. In this book, first of a series of two (Abigail Padgett has not written a book since the sequel, The Last Blue Plate Special, came out in 2001--don't know why, and am somewhat distressed about it.) a man comes to Blue's desert hideaway to ask her to help him prove that his sister, Muffin Crandell, is innocent of killing a man and freezing him in her deceased husband's game freezer in a storage facility. When the storage facility was hit by an earthquake, the electricity was disrupted and the smell alerted authorities to the presence of the body. Muffin has confessed to the crime, but her brother is sure she is innocent, and is willing to pay Blue up to $15,000 to prove it. Some of my favorite passages: p.46-47 ...When I explained that the part-time job I'd advertised would involve keeping the courtyard area clean and alerting the police about drug deals and illegal drinking, she lowered gold-shadowed lids over coffee-brown eyes and shook her head. The beads rattled. She just said, "Girl..." The way black women say "girl" can be magical. Frankly, I have no solid beliefs about the survival of consciousness after physical death. But if it's going to happen I know what I want to see after my trek toward the light. I want to see a black woman who will smile and say, "Girl...." The word's resonance is utterly female, the opening syllable of a story that will explain what's really going on. It says, "You don't have a clue, but I'm going to give you the inside scoop." The sound is hypnotic, like an audio version of that top-of-the-Ferris-wheel moment just before the downward rush. At that moment after my death, I would like to be told exactly what the universe is, and why. I would like to see the point. And in my fantasy the story will begin with that word on the tongue of a black woman. page 60 ...It's one of my favorite notions that the universe is essentially music, and that we came from there. Psychoneurologists document cases in which people with brain deficits who can't talk or read or understand words at all can nevertheless sing entire arias after one or two exposures to the music. Mute and autistic idiots savants have surprised their caregivers by sitting down at a piano and playing the themes from every commercial on television in the dayroom that morning. Even the ancient reptile brains of certain snakes respond dramatically to music. I think music is the original language of life, half-buried in the crumpled map of the brain. I think verbal discourse is an evolutionary newcomer, like opposable thumbs and politics. Music about communal utility bills would be like a mountain wearing a sweater. Beyond incongruous. Music has to be, and always is, about joy and despair, illumination and darkness, life and death. Even reptiles know this....
One of the best by Leonard.