Zetta Elliott's Blog, page 25

rude awakening

I spent a couple of days in Boston last week and met some wonderful students and educators. This photo was taken at John W. McCormack MS where students had read BIRD. Wondermore arranged the trip and their thoughtfulness made the seven book talks flow smoothly. Today I have my last school gig up in the Bronx. Another nonprofit I’ve worked with for a decade took to heart my complaint that teachers seemed not to know about the 30 books I’ve published for young readers. BIRD is a good book and I’m happy to share the story behind the story. But it troubles me that of all my books, educators and literacy advocates—mostly White women—keep choosing the one about addiction. What do kids want to read? Fantasy and sci-fi. I was happy to see that the elementary-age kids in Boston had read MILO’S MUSEUM and MELENA’S JUBILEE, and that’s the book I’m focusing on today. But again—neither of those books is fantasy fiction. In a post-Harry Potter world, why is there still bias against fantastic tales? I know that BIRD is the only title of mine available through First Book so that explains in part why it’s still in high demand. I’ve tried unsuccessfully for years to have my Rosetta Press titles added to their discount marketplace since these are the community members they serve:

Head Start
Title I or Title I eligible School
USDA Food and Nutrition Program
Federally Qualified Health Center
Title VII recipient
Military family support program
Library with an E-rate of 90
A program primarily serving children with disabilities
A program where at least 70% of children come from low-income families.

I’ve started offering a substantial discount to nonprofits. They want to provide my books for the schools they serve and if First Book won’t make that possible, I’ve got to do it myself…

I came back from Boston and found a beautiful card from my friend in London. Unfortunately, it contained sad news—she has terminal pancreatic cancer. I went through several stages of grief over the weekend. I’m better now and was able to write a letter telling Mary how grateful I am for her friendship. But I still get teary and then angry…it’s so unfair. Apparently I got dragged on Twitter last week for my Dear Martin critique. Folks familiar with academic conventions know that literary criticism isn’t intended as an attack against a particular author; it’s a way of expanding the conversation around larger themes or trends. Mary is a scholar who specializes in African American women’s literature. She twice treated me to high tea at Brown’s Hotel, and I later incorporated that experience into THE GHOSTS IN THE CASTLE. She taught that novel in her class and invited me to speak to her students in London last fall. I emailed her last month to see if she wanted to go to Paris with me to see the Black doll exhibit…everything can change in an instant. Say what you mean and get your work done. Leave a legacy that matters…

no more “Becky books”

When a friend asked me last fall to address the problems she found in Dear Martin, I hedged. Few people thanked me for pointing out the issues I had with All American Boys (though many were quick to praise Jason Reynolds for his “gracious” response), and I didn’t want to become known for “targeting” or “picking on” Black authors when so few of us manage to get published. But in the end, I decided something needed to be said because I’ve noticed a disturbing trend in publishing: novels by Black authors about police violence against Black boys where White girls take center stage. I decided not to blog about The Truth of Right Now (2017) by Kara Lee Corthron when I read it last fall. Another friend urged me to read that YA novel; he found the writing superior to The Hate You Give (2017) and couldn’t understand why it wasn’t garnering equal attention. It’s a very different kind of story; a White girl attempts suicide after being raped and exploited by a White male teacher at her high school; when Lily meets Dari, an artistic Black boy with an abusive father and absent mother, her outlook on life changes and she invites him to move in with her and her mother. Dari then becomes the object of desire for both mother and daughter, and the novel concludes with an ugly confrontation in the street with police. When Lily denies knowing Dari, he is brutalized by police and hospitalized. It was clear to me why this novel didn’t achieve the blockbuster status of THUG, and I wondered why such a strong writer would choose to tell this particular story. I support the right of artists to create freely, but with so few Black female YA authors getting published (see Edith Campbell’s research), it’s frustrating to see several choosing to put the focus on Black boys and White girls. Where does that leave Black girls?

On Monday night PBS aired a documentary about the last few weeks of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s life. The camera crew was given permission to sit in on planning meetings for the Poor People’s Campaign. King was assassinated before he could lead their march on Washington, but the footage reveals how much his colleagues loved and respected him. They were also quick to come to his defense when more radical Black Power activists leveled accusations of irrelevancy and the ineffectiveness of a nonviolent strategy. Earlier that day, before I presented at Eagle Academy for Young Men in Brooklyn, I asked the room full of Black boys how many considered King their role model: three 7th graders slowly raised their hands. I told them about Dear Martin, admitted I found it troubling, and then asked, “How many of you could see yourselves writing letters to Malcolm X?” Almost every boy in the room shot his hand into the air. It’s no surprise that this bestselling novel isn’t titled Dear Malcolm (or Dear Nat, or Dear Marcus). King remains the favored civil rights leader of most Whites (and some conservative Blacks) who wrongly fix him in the moment of his 1963 “I Have a Dream Speech” and ignore King’s later, more radical vision that condemned not just racism but capitalism and the Vietnam War. King grew up in the Black church, married a Black woman, raised his family in a Black neighborhood, led a Black congregation, mobilized and served Black communities across the US and beyond. He attended a historically Black college (Morehouse) and was clearly driven by his love for his people. We can’t talk about King in 2018 without acknowledging the evolution of his ideas, the sanitizing of his image, and his limitations. He was a philanderer, a fact represented in Ava DuVernay’s 2016 film Selma. Like King, the teen protagonist in Dear Martin is from Atlanta but, as far as I can tell, that’s where the similarities end.

We meet Justyce late at night; why he was given that name, I’m not sure. He follows news reports of young Black men killed by police, but doesn’t seem engaged in any kind of activism despite plans to earn a law degree and work on social policy. Wearing a hoodie from his prep school and earbuds, Jus is on his way to rescue his on-again-off-again girlfriend. He finds Melo in a parking lot, drunk but determined to drive her red sports car home. Jus’s best friend Manny advised against acting as “Captain Save-A-Ho” (4) but Jus knows his ex is vulnerable. Plus he “can’t deny Melo’s the finest girl he’s ever laid eyes—not to mention hands-–on” (5). We soon learn that Melo has her White mother’s “milky Norwegian complexion, wavy hair the color of honey, and amazing green eyes that are kind of purple around the edge;” thanks to her Black NFL player father, Melo also has “really full lips, a small waist, crazy curvy hips, and probably the nicest butt Jus has ever seen in his life” (5). Melo resists Jus’ efforts to help her but after vomiting on him and spitting in his face, he manages to get her—literally kicking and screaming—into the back seat of her car. And then, of course, the police show up and Jus is cuffed by a cop named Castillo on suspicion of attempting to carjack a White woman. Throughout the arrest/assault, Melo says nothing to defend Jus.

Last night at dinner I handed Dear Martin to my Black feminist friend and had her read the passage describing Melo. She handed me back the book and said, “So at age 15, that’s the point where I would have stopped reading this book.” It took a real effort for me to finish reading it, and throughout I wondered, “How would a Black girl feel while reading this book? Invested? Invisible? Indifferent?” We never learn how Melo identifies in terms of race; she only utters about 100 words in the entire book, and it’s implied (by Manny) that she has cheated on Jus with other guys. Jus admits that he uses Melo to enhance his status: “There’s a lot of stuff Manny has that Justyce doesn’t—two parents with six-figure salaries, a basement apartment, a badass car, crazy confidence…What does Justyce have? The hottest girl in school” (17).

Traumatized by the encounter with Officer Castillo, Justyce starts an “experiment.” It’s unclear to me why Justyce chooses to write letters to Martin Luther King, Jr. and by the end of the novel, Jus can’t understand his motivations either. It seems at the outset that Jus wants to know how to “turn the other cheek” and remain nonviolent while being harassed or brutalized simply for being Black. King is rarely quoted in the novel, but when Jus is asked to dress like a “thug” for Halloween alongside one White “friend” in his crew wearing a Klan robe and hood, Jus swallows his perfectly reasonable objections, declaring “it’s cool” because “he stumbled upon Martin’s definition of integration—‘intergroup and interpersonal living’—and decided to just go with it. He’s not sure this is exactly what Martin meant, but what is he supposed to say?” (41-42).

There are plenty of moments in this novel that strain credulity. Of course, the photos taken during Halloween come back to bite Jus; later in the novel, the lawyer of the cop who shot him and killed Manny uses the photo to argue Jus was a menace to society. Black girls are rarely mentioned in Dear Martin, and the conversations about them are equally problematic. Manny invites Jus to join the circle of racist rich White boys that Manny has considered friends for years, but it’s to Jus that Manny makes this unexpected confession: “I’m scared of black girls, man” (72). Despite being described by his White “friend” Jared as “a titan with the ladies” (208), Manny dreads interaction with Black girls because his cousins are “real attitude-y” and “kinda…ghetto” (72). As an incoming freshman at Morehouse, Manny worries about his ability to relate to his Black classmates when he has only ever had White friends. Jus reassures him: “You’ll be fine, man. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of dudes you’ll vibe with at Morehouse just like you vibe with me” (73). But when it comes to Manny’s anxiety about the Black women at Spelman, Jus falters: “It’s not like he has any experience in this area either. Melo’s half black, but she’s def not the type of girl Manny’s talking about” (72). Ultimately, Jus hazards a guess: “All I can say is they’re not all alike, just like we aren’t” (73).

I attended PWIs (predominantly White institutions) for my entire academic career but I’m not from the South, so I asked some friends from Atlanta how likely it is that two Black teenage boys from working-class and upper middle-class backgrounds wouldn’t know any Black girls; all responded that it was highly unlikely. Why is it that Manny’s parents, Black professionals and members of the country club, never had “the talk” with their seventeen-year-old son until shortly before his DWB death? In my experience, Black girls outnumber Black boys at elite schools so it wouldn’t have been a stretch to have a Black girl on Justyce’s debate team. Or she could have been on a team from another prep school—at least one such Black girl exists in the book, though she’s referenced in a derogatory way by Blake (wearer of the KKK costume). He invites Manny and Jus to his birthday party but then immediately asks for their help: “‘There’s this fine-ass black girl here from Decatur Prep, and I was thinking you guys could wingman it up for me and shit. Homegirl’s got the fattest ass I’ve ever seen, and I think if she meets my niggas, I’ll have a good chance of getting’ [sic] her upstairs. You feel me dogs?'” (90). Despite not knowing any Black girls, Jus takes offense; drunk and sick of the White boys’ liberties and slurs, Jus slugs Blake and calls Manny a sellout. Manny subsequently quits the basketball team and slugs Jared. Jared’s father presses charges, Jus goes for a ride with Manny in his Range Rover, and his best friend loses his life.

One thing Angie Thomas did well in The Hate You Give was to provide Star with a diverse community. Like Jus, Star has racist and “woke” White classmates in addition to friends of color at her elite school. But Star doesn’t live on campus and so she stays connected to and gets support from her large extended family, neighbors, and community activists. All help to shape her worldview, whereas Jus has only an overworked, largely absent mother. When Jus needs to talk, he goes home but finds his mother more interested in watching Judge Judy (84); when he tries to talk to her about police violence and his struggles at school, his mother goes back to reading her book after unsympathetically reminding Jus, “‘I didn’t raise you to punk out when the going gets rough'” (36). By comparison, the parents of SJ and Manny adore Jus, welcoming him into their wealthy homes, hugging him, and even cooking his favorite meal. When his mother urges Jus to keep his White female classmate as a friend and nothing more, Jus shuts down but “wants to call Mama on her prejudice. Tell her, in his mind, she’s just as bad as the guy who shot him and Manny” (130). That’s right—his Black mother is JUST AS BAD as Tison, the White off-duty cop who shot two Black teens for playing their music too loud. This isn’t the only false equivalency. Jus’s only childhood friend, Quan, is a gang member in prison for shooting Castillo. Quan is also the cousin of Manny, and while visiting him in prison Jus learns that Tison saw Quan kill his partner (Castillo). Jus then wonders—rather charitably—whether Tison shot into their vehicle because he was suffering from PTSD, just like Jus’s army veteran father who used to get drunk and beat his mother (142). When Jus decides to meet with the head of Quan’s gang, Jus leaves his valuables at school and then chides himself for being part of the problem: “How can he be mad at white people for profiling when he’s doing the same damn thing they do?” (158). By this point in the novel I wouldn’t have been surprised if Jus made a case for “reverse racism” and attributed it to King.

Jus ultimately uses his letter-writing experiment to justify his desire for SJ, his White female debate partner: “she’s gorgeous for a white girl—she’s tall with long brown hair, and while not a big-booty Betty, the lacrosse body is tight” (51). It was SJ’s attorney mother who got him released from police custody that night, and she demonstrates during a class on racial equality that she’s clearly “woke.” Though his own mother has warned him not to bring home a White girl (apparently without explaining the history of lynching), Jus is drawn to Sarah Jane (“She’s Jewish! She knows about oppression!”) and Manny implies that King would have sanctioned their interracial relationship: “‘If you’re doing this Be Like Martin thing, do it for real. Refusing to date a girl because she’s white is probably not the Kingly way, bruh'” (74). Jus goes for it but gets unexpectedly rebuffed when he tries to kiss SJ; he writes to King, of course, to report on his “failed attempt at ‘romantic integration'” (82) but after his near-death experience, Jus decides “to let his instincts lead” (165) and they lead him to SJ. At the end of the novel, Jus is at another PWI (Yale) and SJ is close by at Columbia. Jus no longer wants to be like Martin and is committed to the path he’s on, telling Jared (who’s now minoring in Black Studies), “That girl is gonna have my babies one day, dawg” (208). Though Jared contributed to the circumstances surrounding Manny’s death, all is forgiven in the end!

Had a White woman written this book, I wouldn’t have been surprised. If it had been set in MAINE, it would have made more sense. But for the author to be a Black woman—an Atlanta native AND a Spelman grad—is perplexing. Almost as disappointing is the long list of YA authors whose rapturous blurbs decorate the novel’s front and back cover. When I told a scholar friend about my concerns with Dear Martin, she warned me about “another Sarah” in Ghost Boys (2018) by Jewell Parker Rhodes. I’m about done with these “Becky books” and hope the editors green lighting these projects are giving equal consideration to stories about police violence against Black women and girls. I’m very glad that I’ve got a Black woman editor working on …

“Tell Me What Democracy Looks Like!”

I used this photograph by Kevin Banatte for the opening slide in my panel presentation at NYU on Friday. I wasn’t sure I’d fit in when I arrived at Deutsches Haus at NYU, but as soon as I walked in the door I got a warm welcome. I met my fellow panelists and we had a lively conversation about US politics before the panel began. The title was taken from a popular chant used at the Women’s March in 2016 (“Tell me what democracy looks like! THIS is what democracy looks like!), but that event was fraught for many women of color, and I used this image to reflect that tension. When it was my turn to speak, I only got through half of the slides I’d prepared and I was the only one who got up to stand at the podium. But I think my critique of White women’s dominance within the children’s publishing industry resonated with quite a few attendees. Lyn Miller-Lachmann attended the panel and wrote a fantastic summary, which you can read over at her blog. She notes that a line formed at the end of our event, and I was happy to meet so many people who appreciated my remarks. A few folks asked if I would consider speaking at their events or workplaces—yes! That’s the thing about stepping out of your comfort zone. No one expected to hear a Black woman telling White women to do better, but the risk was worth it because at least a few heads were nodding as I spoke. My host, Jaira Placide, took me out to dinner later than evening and we got back to Brooklyn after midnight. I was wiped out the next day but I also felt more focused. This introvert doesn’t like to socialize all that much, but sometimes you have to let in other voices in order to hear your own voice more clearly…

the real deal

It’s official! This notice was posted in Publishers Weekly yesterday. “Femme” is used incorrectly here, so we’ll fix that going forward. So many people have shown support on social media and I really appreciate the excitement around this book and this deal. I do, however, want to situate my personal success within the larger context of what’s happening in children’s publishing. I cringe when people say, “All that hard work finally paid off!” Because there are so many writers who work hard and never get a book deal due to systemic bias in the industry. Publishing is not a meritocracy—it takes more than talent to get published. Here’s a summary of the 2017 statistics compiled by the CCBC:

Please don’t assume that folks who haven’t gotten a book deal simply aren’t trying hard enough or don’t have enough talent. We’ll never know how many gifted storytellers simply gave up because the door was closed in their face over and over again. I’m happy my poetry collection will find its way into the world, but I also know that 90% of the folks celebrating on social media would be silent if I self-published this exact same book. We’ve got a lot of work to do…

spring blessings

It doesn’t feel like spring but the cold temperatures aren’t getting me down. I’ve been visiting the botanic garden regularly and it’s heartening to see the daffodils, and tulips, and magnolia trees in bloom. Today when I got back from the garden I found this message in my inbox:

I am pleased to inform you that Benny Doesn’t Like to Be Hugged has been chosen as a 2018-2019 Great Words, Great Works title by the Scripps National Spelling Bee…The Bee curates the Great Words, Great Works list annually to provide teachers with grade-level appropriate reading recommendations that cover a variety of genres and topics, from classic to contemporary, fiction to nonfiction. Every word on the 2018-2019 School Spelling Bee Study List can be found in one of the books from the corresponding grade level. Nearly 11 million students across the country in the 1st through 8th grades use this list to prepare for their classroom and school spelling bees. Benny Doesn’t Like to Be Hugged has been selected as a 1st grade fiction book.

I don’t remember participating in a spelling bee as a child, but I do remember reading textbooks that had vocabulary words highlighted. This approach seems much better—each grade gets a list of recommended books that use the spelling bee words in a more organic way. I’m so happy that Benny made the list!

The official announcement will come out in Publishers Weekly, but last Friday we sold SAY HER NAME! I’m actually *still* writing poems and hope to have 40 done by the time I meet with my editor. I can already SEE this book in my mind’s eye…it’s going to be beautiful!

I filed taxes on Monday and was pleased to see my gross income rise considerably from the year before. I don’t make anywhere close to what I earned as a professor, but this writing life is working out…

Kweli 2018

Kweli was magical once again! It’s so rare for IPOC kid lit creators to have a space in which we make up the majority. And when we’re gathered together, the energy is amazing. The day started with laughter as Angela Johnson talked about her misadventures during school visits, then there were hugs as I reconnected with out-of-town friends and met some new authors. Our panel on chapter books and early middle grade novels was expertly moderated and reflected multiple perspectives, as did our afternoon panel on querying agents. I always feel the need to talk about my self-publishing experience and I really hope future conferences will bring more indie authors to the table. I met so many self-published authors, many of whom had their books with them; yet they only came up to me after I’d shared my perspective. Yet there was no panel on self-publishing and that’s really the only or best option for a lot of writers these days. I did feel at times that we were doing attendees a disservice by focusing on NY Times bestselling authors and not situating their individual success within the larger context of an industry that has longstanding and ongoing bias against so many IPOC, disabled, and LGBTQ creators. It’s not enough to tell aspiring authors to keep trying; we need to talk about structural problems and how they can be corrected. I really appreciated Emma Otheguy‘s remarks about the “culture of prestige” and how we tend to focus on starred reviews and award-winning books to the exclusion of the vast majority of books that don’t receive equal attention. I urged attendees to define success for themselves and remember for whom you write because otherwise you can end up feeling very demoralized very quickly–especially in the company of other kid lit creators.

This week I’m having lunch with one author friend but the rest of my outings will involve young writers. Today I’ll lead a teen writing workshop at the Kensington Branch of the BPL; on Saturday I’ll do the same at the Carroll Gardens Branch. Tomorrow I have three writing workshops in the morning followed by a free community dinner at the Corona Branch of the QPL. Last week I was elated to learn that Andrea Ruggirello included me in her list of women IPOC YA authors to watch out for. You can read the complete list over at Shondaland.com. Indie authors aren’t generally included in lists like this, so I appreciate her willingness to research overlooked authors. But you can’t make any list if you DON’T GET YOUR BOOK DONE, so this week will also be about finishing the revisions for The Return…

say her name

I would never describe myself as a poet, but I did just complete a poetry manuscript. I was aiming for thirty poems but last night I hit 28 and knew I needed to take a break. If you add in the 30+ haiku I wrote, I’m well over my self-imposed limit. It’s not hard to write about police brutality when every week brings new reports of unarmed Black women and men gunned down by cops. It’s not hard to write about youth activism when students are marching across the country. It’s not hard to focus on the ways gun violence impacts Black women and girls—as this 11-year-old girl explains—but it’s tiring. I’m weary today and feel like I could go right back to bed but might take a walk instead. It’s a good day for the botanic garden. The snow from last week’s storm should be gone, and it’s nice to see flecks of purple here and there as crocuses welcome the new season. I’m thinking about revisiting an old screenplay, and I’ve got to revise The Return so I can get that novel out before the month ends…still thinking about returning to Scotland and moving to DC and maybe going out to LA with a friend who just got a job there. I feel itchy and weary and basically ate my way to the end of this poetry manuscript. But my agent emailed me from Bologna to let me know there’s strong interest among editors, so maybe this will be the year I self-publish less. It’ll always be my go-to option, but it’s nice to share the labor with others!

That fierce dragon charm was a gift from Maya Gonzalez—and she has another gift on her blog this month: “5 weeks of expanding the mind and beautifying the world with Queer/Trans/Intersex fabulousness!” Do take some time to read and reflect on these critical essays, and if you’re an educator, make sure your students have access to Maya and Matthew’s latest books: They She He Me: Free to Be! and The Gender Wheel. It’s important to demand change from our leaders but as June Jordan reminded us, “We are the ones we have been waiting for…”

Kweli 2018

There’s nothing like this event in the publishing world—a space where IPOC are in the majority, and can connect and share insights about the industry. Early bird registration has ended but check the website—it may not be too late to submit a manuscript for critique by agents and editors…

Publishing versus the World

Today on Facebook I watched a video filmed by survivors of the school shooting in Dunblane, Scotland. They wanted to voice their support for the students here in the US who planned a mass walk-out to protest the lack of gun control. When I was in Edinburgh last week, the First Minister Nicola Sturgeon gave the keynote address and yet there were no metal detectors, guard dogs, or wands. We were asked to leave our coats and bags in the cloakroom (which was left unlocked), and then we filed upstairs to hear her speak humbly and passionately about the role books have played in her life. Sturgeon admitted she made a point of reading a few pages of a novel every night before bed because it helped her not to stress over the latest tweet that could end the world. It isn’t fun being from a country whose leader is ridiculed regularly, but it was a relief to be outside of the US for a few days. I’ve already looked into returning in May and would love to reconnect with the students and teachers I met. The publishing community—at least those attending the conference—seemed interested in inclusion strategies and appreciative of the work some publishers are already doing to better represent today’s Scotland. Could I see myself living there? I don’t know. On Wednesday I arrived at the hotel close to 1pm and headed out almost immediately to present at an elementary school in the same neighborhood. The next day I woke up and grabbed my bag of books and hopped on the tram, and it struck me that I can “do what I do” just about anywhere. In some ways that’s reassuring and in other ways…disconcerting. If I want to step out of my life for a while, does it make sense to cross the ocean and do what I’ve always done? On the plane ride home, between sneezes, I started writing two novels—one set in Edinburgh and the other in Glasgow. I didn’t see much of that city while I was there, but got a very warm welcome from grad students and faculty in the Education Dept. at the university. My host Eilzabeth Dulemba took this photo after our event ended (read her write-up here), and she kindly shared her own experience living as an expat in Scotland. I come from a family of migrants; I know there’s always a price to be paid when you trade one life for another, and I have no illusions about greener grass. But I do want a change of scene—or rather, a regularly changing scene—Paule Marshall’s transnational life to match her “tripartite self.” Connecting with kids of color in Edinburgh was wonderful, and I saw mythical beasts (like this unicorn) all around Old Town when I squeezed in an abbreviated walking tour before my panel on Friday afternoon. I guess my worry is that I’m too adaptable. If I can teach and write and give talks anywhere, then what does “home” really mean? Do I want to fit in or feel anonymous? I talked to my landlord about leaving by the end of the summer, and made a mental list of the furniture I’d sell rather than move. I’m keeping May open so I can maybe get back to Scotland and/or down to DC in order to tour the different neighborhoods. This weekend I’m seeing a friend who moved back to Canada after Trump was elected. Another friend studying in the UK is thinking of moving back to the US. We’re all searching for the right “fit.” I want a new challenge and a fresh start. But in order to earn a living, I need to build on the reputation I’ve built as an author/activist here in the US. One of the last questions on our “Publishing vs. the World” panel last week was, “What gives you hope?” And I told the audience about Njeri at Onyx Pages in Canada who discovered Mother of the Sea because of Jherane at Rebel Women Lit in Jamaica. Digital publishing allows stories to cross borders and oceans…no wall can stop us. And these amazing Black women are building inclusive, real and virtual communities of readers and writers. The day after I got back from Scotland I did this interview with Njeri. It’s an honor to having a reader/reviewer take you and your work seriously—not because you’ve won a big award or landed on the bestseller list, but because they trusted a fellow reader. I think my online community would mean even more if I did emigrate again. My entire Scotland trip was arranged through online outreach, and I’m so grateful that folks I’d never met before welcomed me into their schools, their campus, their conference. That truly is reassuring—there are good people everywhere.

Saw A Wrinkle in Time today but will have to blog about that later. Early morning school visit tomorrow so I’ll sign off for now. Nite!

Logan

Yesterday I had the opportunity to talk about my books with a Black Canadian book vlogger, and she closed with lightning round questions: “Who is your favorite character in Black Panther?” I’m terrible at answering “favorite” questions, but I had to admit that even though he was unlikable, I left the theater thinking most about Eric Killmonger. Last fall, the women over at The Book Smugglers asked me to reflect on my favorite 2017 SFF book or film. Without hesitation, I asked if I could write about Wolverine. When it comes to superheroes, for the past decade he has been my undisputed favorite, and his on-screen death shook me in unexpected ways. Here’s a bit of my rather intimate essay—you can read the entire “love letter” here:

It’s amazing how a movie about mutants actually reveals so much about human nature. We can be selfish and petty and cruel, and yet we still need one another desperately. Most days I would say that I have given up on the idea of family; I believe in community and do my best to serve mine, but I haven’t started a family of my own and largely accept the estrangement from my siblings that followed my father’s death. As is my custom, I spent Christmas alone, practicing the solitary rituals that bring me joy; without my family around, the holidays are guaranteed to be peaceful.

So why does my heart ache when I watch Logan now? Maybe living in the Trump era has me feeling like Logan—defeated, world-weary, and desperate for a way out. Maybe it’s something more. Moments before his death, Charles says to a cynical Logan, “This is what life looks like—a home, people who love each other, a safe place. You should take a moment and feel it.” Maybe one day I will. Maybe I still have time.

I came back from Scotland with a cold, but will write about my amazing trip soon…