Another Brooklyn Hardcover – 9 August 2016
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|Hardcover, 9 August 2016||
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- Hardcover : 192 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0062359983
- ISBN-13 : 978-0062359988
- Product Dimensions : 1.78 x 12.7 x 20.07 cm
- Publisher : Amistad Press (9 August 2016)
- Language: : English
- Best Sellers Rank: 420,401 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- Customer Reviews:
"Jacqueline Woodson's Another Brooklyn is a wonder. With a poet's soul and a poet's eye for image and ear for lyrical language, Woodson delivers a moving meditation on girlhood, love, loss, hurt, friendship, family, faith, longing, and desire. This novel is a love letter to a place, an era, and a group of young women that we've never seen depicted quite this way or this tenderly. Woodson has created an unforgettable, entrancing narrator in August. I'll go anywhere she leads me."--Naomi Jackson, author of The Star Side of Bird Hill
"...fine-cadenced prose..."--Wall Street Journal
"...it is the personal encounters that form the gorgeous center of this intense, moving novel...Structured as short vignettes, each reading more like prose poetry than traditional narrative, the novel unfolds as memory does, in burning flashes, thick with detail..."--New York Times Book Review
''...And Sister Jacqueline Woodson comes singing memory. Her words like summer lightning get caught in my throat and I draw her up from southern roots to a Brooklyn of a thousand names, where she and her three 'sisters' learn to navigate a new season. A new herstory. Everywhere I turn, my dear Sister Jacqueline, I hear your words, a wild sea pausing in the wind. And I sing..."--Sister Sonia Sanchez
"Another Brooklyn joins the tradition of studying female friendships and the families we create when our own isn't enough, like that of Toni Morrison's Sula, Tayari Jones' Silver Sparrow and Zami: A New Spelling of My Name by Audre Lorde. Woodson uses her expertise at portraying the lives of children to explore the power of memory, death and friendship.--Los Angeles Times Book Review
"Another Brooklyn reads like a love song to girlhood..."--Bustle
"emotionally resonant work"--Seattle Times
"[E]ntwined coming-of-age narratives-lost mothers, wounded war vets, nodding junkies, menacing streetscapes-are starkly realistic, yet brim with moments of pure poetry."--Elle Books Feature
"A stunning achievement from one of the quietly great masters of our time."--Kirkus Reviews, Starred Review
From the Back Cover
For August, running into a long-ago friend sets in motion resonant memories and transports her to a time and a place she thought she had mislaid: 1970s Brooklyn, where friendship was everything.
August, Sylvia, Angela, and Gigi shared confidences as they ambled their neighborhood streets, a place where the girls believed that they were amazingly beautiful, brilliantly talented, with a future that belonged to them.
But beneath the hopeful promise there was another Brooklyn, a dangerous place where grown men reached for innocent girls in dark hallways, where mothers disappeared, where fathers found religion, and where madness was a mere sunset away.
Jacqueline Woodson's Another Brooklyn heartbreakingly illuminates the formative period when a child meets adulthood--when precious innocence meets the all-too-real perils of growing up. In prose exquisite and lyrical, sensuous and tender, Woodson breathes life into memories, portraying an indelible friendship that united young lives.Another Brooklyn is an enthralling work of literature from one of our most gifted novelists.--Emma Straub, New York Times Bestselling author of Modern Lovers and The Vacationers
From the Publisher
The opening lines of Another Brooklyn
For a long time, my mother wasn't dead yet. Mine could have been a more tragic story. My father could have given in to the bottle or the needle or a woman and left my brother and me to care for ourselves—or worse, in the care of New York City Children's Services, where, my father said, there was seldom a happy ending. But this didn't happen. I know now that what is tragic isn't the moment. It is the memory.
If we had had jazz, would we have survived differently? If we had known our story was a blues with a refrain running through it, would we have lifted our heads, said to each other, This is memory again and again until the living made sense? Where would we be now if we had known there was a melody to our madness? Because even though Sylvia, Angela, Gigi, and I came together like a jazz improv—half notes tentatively moving toward one another until the ensemble found its footing and the music felt like it had always been playing—we didn't have jazz to know this was who we were. We had the Top 40 music of the 1970s trying to tell our story. It never quite figured us out.
The summer I turned fifteen, my father sent me to a woman he had found through his fellow Nation of Islam brothers. An educated sister, he said, who I could talk to. By then, I was barely speaking. Where words had once flowed easily, I was suddenly silent, breath snatched from me, replaced by a melancholy my family couldn't understand.
Sister Sonja was a thin woman, her brown face all angles beneath a black hijab. So this is who the therapist became to me—the woman with the hijab, fingers tapered, dark eyes questioning. By then, maybe it was too late.