ALMOST TOTALLY UNRELATED BOOK RAVES - NOT NECESSARILY WHAT YOU SEE BELOW (Cheri)

A friend tells me that she and her husband have a don't-talk-politics-with-friends rule.  If you have a similar rule and it extends to social issues, you'll want to jump to my third rave, about the book Nothing Much Happens.

("Teddy" was Mark's gift to me on my 16th birthday!)

Living in North Carolina, thoughts of the quality of Black lives and the ongoing impact of historic discrepancies come to mind more frequently than when we lived in California.

Mark and I heard Judy Goldman talk about her book Child:  A Memoir several months ago.  I immediately put in on my to-read list but honestly, I think I subconsciously put off reading it because I thought that the actual book could not be as captivating as hearing the author discuss it.

I was under the misconception that this was Goldman's only book.  In fact it is her seventh, and her third memoir.  A portion of the publisher's description:

Child is the story of Judy Goldman's relationship with Mattie Culp, the Black woman who worked for her family as a live-in maid and helped raise her . . . . 
It is also the story of Mattie's child, who was left behind to be raised by someone else. 
Judy, now eighty, cross-examines what it was to be a privileged white child
in the Jim Crow South, how a bond can evolve in and
out of step with a changing world, and whether we can ever tell the whole truth,
even to ourselves.

Throughout the book are matter-of-fact descriptions of the ways that Black and White people interacted during Goldman's childhood.  One story that Goldman told in her author presentation was of she and Miss Culp stopping to talk with a neighbor on one of their walks around the neighborhood.  Miss Culp spoke first to the neighbor, but the neighbor spoke only to Goldman, who was only about four or five years old at the time. 

Goldman's descriptions of medical waiting rooms for Black and White people were devastating.

I suspect Goldman put off writing this beautiful, loving book, trying to decide what she knew, and what she thought, about the lifetime relationships she and her family had with Miss Culp.  One of its most useful aspects of this book is how it very, very gently teaches that people who have the absolute best of intentions can fail to be the best for by people they love, their actions shaped by the expectations and current knowledge of all involved.

It was actually only at the very end of the writing of the book that she came to recognize a fact which was central to the early years of their relationship.  As I read the book, I could not understand why she had never seen that fact, or asked about it.

I came to realize that loving deeply may sometimes mean not asking.

I log all books that I read, want to read, start but don't finish, etc., at LibraryThing.com.  Only those books that will stay with me throughout the rest of my life receive five-star ratings; this is one of those books.

I checked Aphrochic:  Celebrating the Legacy of the Black Family Home out of the library, sight unseen, based on a magazine review.  Since many Black Americans use bright colors more freely in art, I figured the interior designs would be inspiring.

I've been enjoying the pictures in this book, but what will stick with me the longest are the narratives that discuss why home - ownership, and ambience - is so important to Black Americans, who frequently don't have many generations of home ownership behind them.

About 16 homes are featured, owned by people in very different walks of life.

There are also several short factual sections that explain the factors that have either prevented Black home ownership or interrupted cycles of ownership.  For example . . . as an attorney, I was involved in civic redevelopment projects.  Seemingly a good thing, we don't think much about the fact that low-income homeowners may not be able to purchase new homes if the funds they receive are insufficient in the current market.

One page talked about the combined effect of "redlining" (governmental zoning policies that limited where Black Americans could buy homes) and restrictions which prevented use of GI Bill funds in "depressed" areas (i.e., where Black people lived).

"As early as 1947, Ebony magazine reported that of 3,229 VA housing loans awarded
across 13 cities in Mississippi, only 2 went to Black veterans."

Similar VA restrictions were applied in Daly City, California.

While this book has sobering historical information that is useful for anyone who wants to understand how disparities in Black and White American living standards have developed, overall the book is a loving dedication to the many pleasures of home.  Highly recommended!

I think I first read about Nothing Much Happens: Cozy and Calming
Stories . .  ., by Kathryn Nicolai, in a magazine.  (Yes, I freely admit that I have a magazine addiction!)

It was described as book of short stories that can be read just before bedtime.  In fact, each story ends with the words "Sweet dreams."

I think this book is an outstanding example of the term "mindfulness," which until recently always annoyed me.  Each chapter is a description of a couple of hours spent enjoying the simplest parts of life.  It took me a little while, but I realized that one reason the stories are so good at catching and focusing your attention is that the author involves each of our senses.

The title might put you off but I urge you not to let that happen.  I hardly ever keep books once I have finished them, but I will be keeping this book to re-read.

Addendum: 

Do you remember the creepy short story "The Lottery," most likely read in a high-school literature class,  written by Shirley Jackson? 

I'm listening to a totally different audiobook, recorded from a humorous book that Jackson wrote about her home life in 1953, entitled Life Among the Savages.  The part that I've read has been very uneven, but I had to mention the very  period-specific scene that I read yesterday, in which she smokes in the taxi while being driven to the hospital to deliver her third baby!