Read this book…
Thanks to everyone for diversity book club suggestions – you are helping to create an amazing list. Keep those suggestions coming…
The first book we’re reading for our April meeting is "The Time of Our Singing" by Richard Powers. My philosophy professor from way back in my days at Guilford College recommended it – thanks, Jonathan!
Called "one of the best novels written about race in America," I am halfway through it now and it is going on my "books I wish I had written" list. The 4-page fictional account of Emmett Till’s murder alone is one of the most insightful, amazing passages I’ve ever read. Take this for example:
"His crime swells past rape, worst than murder. It spits in the face of creation. What the whites must do, they do–no rage to their motion, no hysteria, no lesson. They exterminate by deep reflex–a flinch that comes before even self-defense. They put a bullet through the fourteen-year-old’s brain, as they might kill a rabid animal. A desperate protection, the safeguard of their kind."
"They exterminate by deep reflex–a flinch that comes before even self-defense." Richard Powers is a masterful, smart writer – the Chicago Tribune calls this book "a bold and vibrant set of variations on the themes of music, race, and time." The Philadelphia Inquirer writes that "this is a novel God might relish and call enriching. Powers’ heart-cry should win big prizes." The Christian Science Monitor wrote, "the best black novel to appear in America since Beloved has just been written by a white man."
"The power of music in its relation to a racially divided family and culture is dramatized with unprecedented brilliance in this panoramic novel…" "Massive and dazzling…." "Opens up a universe of thought and makes you hear the legendary music of the spheres…."
At 631 pages, it’s not a wee tidbit of a book. As one book club member wrote: "I checked out Richard Powers’ book today. I want to thank you for choosing the largest novel in the library. I had to have help from one of the librarians to carry it to the car!"
"Wisdom," I wrote him back, "takes work."
