Trying too hard in Mississippi

Glory Be, by Augusta Scattergood (2012)

I somehow read two middle grade books about Southern race relations right in a row, which may be why this one won’t get as good of a review.

It’s the summer of 1964, and Glory is anxiously awaiting awaiting her 12th birthday, which she plans to spend as she does every year: at a pool party with her family and friends. But this summer is different from summers past, because there are some new folks in town who are making certain people very nervous. The Freedom Fighters, as the new folks are called, are making a stand for racial equality and integration, and those who disagree with their views become defensive. Before Glory fully realizes what is happening, the town council has closed the pool in an effort to keep it from becoming integrated. And the changes keep going from there.

I have to tell you, this book didn’t do it for me. There were some good parts, but mostly, I felt like it was just trying too hard. Glory is too earnest, writing a powerful letter to the editor of the town paper about her disgust about racial segregation, when really her motivation seems almost entirely directed toward getting the pool reopened for her birthday party. Sometimes Scattergood writes her characters’ dialogue with elements of Southern speech, sometimes she doesn’t. Glory’s father is almost non-existent except for when he all of a sudden stands up for her in a moment of heartfelt pride. Glory’s friendship woes don’t seemreal. None of it did, to be honest.

Which is why I was surprised when I read the author’s note at the end, in which she explains that large parts of  the novel she pulled from her own personal history growing up in Mississippi. I’m wondering if this was the book’s downfall. Maybe  Scattergood had these memorable experiences of her childhood that she felt would make a good story and she just tried too hard to get all the parts to fit, rather than allowing the story (and its characters) to become its own.

One perk: since Scattergood herself is a former children’s librarian, the public library plays a pivotal role in the novel and the librarian is the only one who truly sticks to her guns in terms of what is right. Obviously, I’m a fan of this.

Fine, but not fully convincing: 1 star

Gracias, Garcias.

How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents, by Julia Alvarez (1992)

I have two copies of this book. Both were bought for probably 50 cents at a used book sale, years apart after I forgot I bought the first one. And for years, they both sat on my shelf. For some reason, a couple weeks ago, I picked one of them up again when I accidentally left my current read at work. And I’m so glad I did.

This novel was right up my alley as far as characterization and voice goes. Only, in this unique and beautiful story, the characterization is more of the Garcia family, rather than the individual family members–Carlos and Laura (parents), and Carla, Sandra, Yolanda, and Sofia (daughters)–as they leave their native Republica Dominicana for New York in 1960.  By the end, you really feel like you understand the family as a unit; understand, love, and and maybe even wish you were a Garcia yourself.

Alvarez makes some interesting authorial plays, the first one being with time. She splits the Garcia story into three parts, and then traces the story backwards. Part 1, for example, follows the years 1989-1972. I’m still not sure why she chose to write it this way, but I like it. Starting with the first chapter, it’s like meeting new friends and then spending the next 290 pages learning all their past stories until you become bffs.

For the most part, the novel examines the immigrant experience, focusing on one or more Garcias per chapter, sometimes in first, sometimes third person. We watch as Sandi becomes disillusioned with American goodness, as Carla gets tormented by prejudiced schoolboys, as Yolanda returns to the homeland and finds she doesn’t belong anymore now that she’s an American, and as Fifi embraces American attitudes toward sexuality and gets shunned by her father. Similarly, Carlos–a well-known and capable doctor on the island–suffers humiliation when he’s not able to provide for his family in the States–and Laura–daughter of a prominent and influential family–loses herself and her purpose as a new American housewife. They grow, adjust, learn, and develop their lives and identities as Dominican Americans.

Sounds like a downer, huh? Perhaps that’s because I forgot to mention how funny and sweet it is at the same time. And it is just that. With humor and truth, Alvarez paints a unique picture of a typical immigrant family.

2.5 stars. Charming and so different than anything I’ve read before.

A connection deeper than most

The Girls, by Lori Lansens (2005)

I have never looked into my sister’s eyes. I have never bathed alone. I have never stood in the grass at night and raised my arms to a beguiling moon. I’ve never used an airplane bathroom. Or worn a hat. Or been kissed like that. I’ve never driven a car. Or slept through the night. Never a private talk. Or solo walk. I’ve never climbed a tree. Or faded into a crowd. So many things I’ve never done, but oh, how I’ve been loved.

And so begins the fictional autobiography of Rose and Ruby Darlen, the oldest living pair of conjoined craniopagus twins. For those of you who don’t obsessively watch late night TLC or haven’t flipped the pages of your medical dictionary in a while, that means they were born joined at the head. Two bodies, two brains, two very different personalities, but one fused skull. At age 29, Rose decides to start writing her autobiography, which her sister Ruby says isn’t fair, since Rose’s life story is essentially Ruby’s as well. Thus, the girls alternate chapters, a technique that paints a delightfully interesting picture of the differences in life experience despite their closeness.

The sisters have very different writing styles (an authorial skill I so deeply admire and is reminiscent of The Poisonwood Bible), with Rose often writing her portions as a storyteller, including historical background, emotional connections, and layered parallels, and Ruby writing as she would speak, telling her day-to-day accounts and responding to much of what she assumes Rose is writing. Both include much about their adoptive parents, Aunt Lovey and Uncle Stash, with whom although they share no blood ties, shared a deep affection.

Never self-pitying and continually surprising, this fresh story of two girls in a life that most of us have never even considered won my heart almost immediately.

2.5 stars