Groove, Bang and Jive Around is one of the most challenging books I’ve ever read — not just in structure and language, but in subject matter. It follows Annette through a fragmented, surreal coming-of-age story filled with violence, trauma, and the aching search for identity and safety. At times I felt overwhelmed and unsure how to interpret what was happening, but that discomfort felt deliberate. Cannon forces the reader to confront how Black women are sexualised, scapegoated, and often failed by the very people and institutions meant to protect them.
Annette’s story is laced with abuse, both overt and insidious. The book shows how cycles of trauma are passed down, internalised, and normalised. She navigates a world where sex is often the only form of praise, where intimacy is a performance, and where consent becomes a murky concept shaped by power, race, and survival. She is constantly seeking escape, only to be met with repeated violence; even in dreams, religion, or supposed sanctuaries.
Despite how intense and sometimes confusing the narrative is, I found it rich with meaning. Each chapter felt like a new lens into the ways generational pain, misogyny, and racial trauma manifest. I didn’t always “enjoy” reading it; in fact, I had to take breaks; but I couldn’t put it down for long. I found myself engaging deeply, questioning what I thought I knew, and looking into references and metaphors days after reading certain scenes.
It’s a book that lingers - disturbing, thought-provoking, and painfully relevant. Although I think Cannon’s use of shock and surrealism is blatantly intentional, there were moments where the extremity of the violence felt overwhelming and risked clouding the message. Some scenes could have benefited from more clarity or restraint without losing their impact.