Ordinary Hazards: An Audio Book Review and Giveaway

Congratulations to Barbara Younger for winning CAVE DADA from last week's blog.

Nikki Grimes writes powerful young adult books in verse. You'll find my reviews of Between the Lines and Words with Wings on previous posts. Now I know why she is able to write such authentic poetry. It comes from the depth of her soul and the pain from her past. 

Note: since this is a review of the audiobook, I did my best to capture quotes from the book. 

REVIEW

Nikki narrates the book and begins with this definition:

Memoir: A work of imperfect memory in which you meticulously capture all that you can recall and use informed imagination to fill in what remains. As she says later in the book, Trauma is a memory hog.

Quickly, the reader learns about Nikki's schizophrenic, alcoholic mother; her musician father who feels incapable of raising children; and a childhood full of instability, fears, and abuse. Her only constant was her older sister, Carol, who she adored.

“I have a Ph.D. in avoidance 

We’re all masters of selective memory 

We’re all allergic to pain."

*****

Home was never a safe place.

Forget the guns. 

I was put in a dresser drawer away from the rats.

As a child she realized her mother had a secret life since she talked to invisible people. "Mommy who are you talking to?” was met with,  "Shhh!" and a finger to her lips. 

After her father left, the family temporarily lived with a relative but her sons shot heroin. They moved out, her mother went to work, and the girls were left in the care of a person who locked them in a closet during the day. Nikki was 3, Carol was 8. 

A demon lived inside of us for years in fear of the dark.

When neighbors reported that her mother neglected them, social services took them away. That began a series of foster homes. Some she remembered; she forgot several. One foster mother whipped her and her sister. She and her sister ran away to their grandmother's house; she refused to take them in. 

Did we do something wrong? Is that why no one wants us? 

Anger and I stood together on the train. 

When she was six, she found an oasis of love and peace with the Buchanan's foster family. Although she didn't talk for several days, the family's welcome broke down her distrust. She went to church, started school, and took dance lessons. But she was terrified of the night's darkness. She discovered Psalm 18:28: "You, Lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light," and realized, 

Grace! Outstrips the dark every time.

Early on, she started pouring out her feelings in notebooks; the blank page was her safety.

The writing thing was some kind of magic. 
But magicians rarely share their secrets.

Although she grew to love the Buchanan family, she yearned for Carol and wrestled with not hearing from her parents.

Why did mom love liquor more than us? 
Why didn’t they love us?

When someone explained that her mother had a nervous breakdown she asks, How can nerves break? She is told that her mother doesn't know what's real and what's not, and Nikki remembered her mother's imaginary friends. 

When she overheard a relative at a picnic say that Mr. and Mrs. B always took in strays, Nikki realized, This beautiful family was only borrowed.

She found a picture of herself in the Buchanan family album when she was nine.  She had settled in and let her guard down. Then her mother called. She was remarried and wanted Nikki to join them. 

“I had to go. How could I say no? One mother is all that you get. I wasn’t ready to give up on her yet."

The city scared her, it was difficult always changing schools mid-term. This time, her mother deliberately kept her father away and spent more time in politics and civil rights than with her. But Nikki moved in any way--what choice did she have? She quickly learned that in Brooklyn you have to join a gang for protection. When she is singed with a cigarette butt, her mother doesn't ask about the bandage. Nikki writes,

Why does she avoid dark and painful things? 
Who taught her to pretend? 

There were gangs on every corner, danger her mother refused to see, and the Brooklyn Library became her refuge. 

My life is like musical chairs. 
Every time the music plays, I have to move. 

When her mother started talking to herself again, she feared that “this stuff” was in her. 

God, please don’t let insanity be my inheritance.

Both her father and stepfather were useless. Nikkie took the situation into her hands; she was a kid who had to get her mother hospitalized. 

Every damn episode wore another hole in my soul.

She entered puberty and was alarmed when boys and her stepfather eyed her funny. She hated the changes in her body. Her sister moved in but didn't stay; Nikki didn't realize why Carol left until after “my mother’s monster” raped her. No amount of showers or notebook entries could take her pain away. In the same way that her mother didn't want to hear the truth about the neighborhood gangs, Nikki knew her mother would be no help against her step-father's abuse.

Her pent up anger terrified her. She learned to vocalize and to translate her feelings into words on the page.

I knew writing could take me places. 
But writing was a lonely place. 

Although her mother discounted her writing talent, at thirteen Nikki performed her first reading with Harlem poets. She was nervous, but her father affirmed her talent. He said, 

Explore every art form. You can be whatever you want.
......

My father fed me books and art by blacks. 
It left me dreaming of what books I might bring into the world.

After going to the Copacabana with her father she thinks, Not all stars in the firmament are white.

Nikki's faith does not break in spite of the many difficulties she faces. At one point she writes,

How can I not believe in God? 
If it weren’t for Him I’d be in prison or the grave.

As I mentioned, Nikki narrates the book herself. The only time her voice wavered was when she read about the car accident in which her father lost his life. He had promised to see her Easter morning and she blamed herself for him driving too late at night to get home in time. She felt powerless in the face of death.

Why did the one parent who knew my heart have to die? 

Here is an audio snippet to give you a flavor of the book.

*****

This is a powerful memoir that I recommend for mature teens as well as for adults. Nikki Grimes has taken the fragments of her life-- "scattered memories"--and pieced them together into an amazing volume of poetry. Teens who have known abuse will find comfort in reading this book and knowing that they are not alone. Teens who have grown up in safety should gain empathy by reading or listening to Ordinary Hazards. 


GIVEAWAY

I have a code that you can use to download this book for one of you. Leave me a comment by 6 PM on June 13th to enter the giveaway; please make sure to leave your email address if you are new to my blog. Share this on social media or start following my blog and I'll enter your name twice. 

Between The Lines: A Review and Audio Book Giveaway

Congratulations to Connie Saunders who won Behind These Hands from last week's blog.

********

Nikki Grimes' sequel to Bronx Masquerade, BETWEEN THE LINES (Penguin Random House, 2018), combines narrative and free verse in a moving book about teens whose lives are changed through poetry. The audio book published by Recorded Books is narrated by different actors; each eloquently expresses a different character. Listen or read this book and you'll reach the same conclusion that I did: Grimes masterfully created authentic voices and personalities for the six different point of view characters. 

REVIEW

For various reasons ranging from a desire to write poetry to attendance only because of a guidance counselor's suggestion--the students in Mr. Ward's poetry class are thrown together. The universal theme of wanting to belong weaves the students and their poems together. This commonality provides the reader a window into the the personal and interpersonal struggles and triumphs they face.

The reader first hears about Darian, a Puerto Rican teen who sees himself as a newspaper man, not a poet. He lost his mother to breast cancer and by the end of the book his poetry gives him a way to express his grief. 

Private Pain

Numb, I sit on the edge

of the bed

Mami y Papi share.

Shared.

I feel light as the ghost

my mother has become.

Her picture 

on the bedside table

looks blurry until

I wipe my eyes.

"Pobrecito," she would say.

If she were here,

if she were anywhere

in this world.

"Mijo," she would whisper

and touch my cheek,

and I would answer,

"Mami."

But this time,

The word never leaves

my throat.

And what difference

does that make?

When I wasn't looking

Mama's heart stopped

like a broken clock.

Half past 36,

the final tick,

the final tock.

Explain to me

exactly how 

I'm supposed to

tell time now. (pp. 130-1)

**********

Li Cheng is "all Chinese and all American." Her poetry is full of "contradictions which squeeze into one small body."

Threads

How can I explain

the duality of Li?

The muffled sounds

of mah-jong tiles touching,

clicking together,

flips a switch in me

as my parents follow

the ritual 

of the ancient game.

The Mandarin calligraphy

clinging to our walls

sends my soul sailing 

to rice paddies

oceans away,

to the land of silk,

red sunrises,

and the jade mountain peaks

my parents

often speak of.

China whispers 

through their blood,

You are part mine.

Remember!

And I nod, silent

and ashamed

that my untrained

American lips

are unfamiliar 

with my ancestors'

local lingo. (pp. 26-7)

************

Jenesis has been placed in thirteen foster homes and is worried about aging out of the system and having nowhere to live. Here is some of her story. 

Blue Eyes Squared

I see you staring at me.

You be boring a hole in my soul

as if the alchemy

of your curiosity

could somehow turn

these blue eyes brown,

but you might as well forget it.

You frown at my blond curls,

even though girls with hair

the color of sun

the color of spun gold

are supposed to have more fun.

At least, that's the story

they try to sell on TV.

Yeah, I'm different, but

don't call me freak

or assume I'm the only one.

There are bound to be

other brown beauties

with pale blue eyes

eerily like mine,

wearing smiles crooked

in exactly the same way,

noses that scream

matched set.

Are there more like me?

Yeah, you bet.

When I find them,

I'll fit in without question,

never mind that

the world thinks

I'm odd as H-E-

well, you get it. (pp. 33-34)

***********

Val feels the pain of the prejudice her father faces as an Argentinian immigrant.

What You Don't Know

Mi padre, Ignacio,

is a book you haven't read.

It's filled with poetry

that can curl its fingers

around your corazón 

and squeeze out joy.

Pero you've never

cracked the cover.

You scribble crítica  

that questions

the measure of the man,

but you've never

 peeled back the pages

of his biografía.   

You toss el libro

onto the trash heap

marked "Immigrant"

y ustedes dicen it has no value.

But, of course,

you are categorically incorrect,

which you would know

if only you could read

las palabras.

If only you, too,

were blessed

to be bilingual. (p. 51)

*******

Marcel has been labeled a troublemaker. His past includes his father's unjust imprisonment and how that demoralized him and shattered their family.

Troubled (partial)

What is it

with people and their labels,

as if the way they mark me

makes them able

to understand who I am

or why?

"Troubled kid"

tells you exactly nothing

about the trouble

my pops has seen 

or Moms

or me.

We stare from windows 

caged in iron,

in state prisons

or rented rooms,

which are only better

by degree.

We are forced

to survive outside

the neatly mowed landscapes

of your imagination.

Our stop on the train station

is worlds away

from your manicured lawns

and lives

and the lies you tell

about the days

of racial discrimination

being in the past.

Quit asking

why I'm angry

or I'll tell you. (pp. 39-40)

*******

Freddie takes care of her eight-year-old niece and her alcoholic mother. This is a portion of one of her poems.

School Rules

Stage right,

the lights fade on a daily life

of tiptoeing around

my niece's feelings about the mom

who traded time with her

for time spent cozying up to crank.

The truth is too rank

for her tender little-girl ears.

And so, until she's fast asleep,

I keep bitter thoughts

under my tongue's lock and key.

Have I mentioned how it hurts me?

That neither my niece nor I

manage to have a mother

worthy of the name?

Oh, mine is present,

in an alcoholic-fog kind of way,

which is to say, hardly at all. (p. 148)

*******

Nikki Grimes stitches a story together so real and touching that after the boys vs. girls poetry slam which produces outstanding poetry on both sides--I want to know what happens to each character. This would be a great curriculum resource for teens: some readers will resonate and identify, others will be informed by stories much different than their own. Read it out loud in reader's theater. Let it inspire you and your student to write poetry. The results may surprise you.  

Giveaway

I am giving away my audio book, courtesy Recorded Books. Leave me a comment with your email address if you are new to my blog. Random.org will pick a winner on August 3.