This is the story of Vimbai - the best hairdresser at her salon - and her unlikely friendship with Dumisani, a young and charming man, who has more than a secret to keep.
At the beginning of the story, told in first person by Vimbai, she is the queen bee of her salon. Its business depends on her and she knows it. She's an independent, young woman who is rearing a daughter on her own, while her family has turned her back on her and the father of her child doesn't have any intentions to take on his responsibilities. Then one day her life is turned upside down by the arrival at the salon of Dumisani. He claims to be a hairdresser and ask for a job, but it would have been just as surprising if he had said he was from Mars. A male hairdresser is not something these women have ever heard of. But he proves himself in practice, revealing a rare talent and a irresistible charisma with the customers. In fact, he is so gifted that he steals Vimbai's spotlight.
She initially hates him for that, but he is a very hard person to hate and quickly he wins her over, too.
It's not hard for the reader to guess what Dumisani's secret is, but our narrator Vimbai is completely oblivious. We follow her as she goes through life in Harare, dreaming of opening her own salon, praying at her Pentecostal church, and trying to make sense of this new strange and confusing friendship with Dumisani. It's easy to get sucked into her story, but as it progresses you can't help but brace yourself for the inevitable crash that the truth will cause.
I enjoyed this little book. I loved learning about life in Zimbabwe because before reading this I knew next to nothing about it. Now I feel like a caught a vivid glimpse of what it is like living there. It seems similar to Europe during and after the wars. It's chaotic. Its rulers struggle to keep order, shops are empty and food must be bought at the black market, the inflation is over the roof so money is exchanged by weight, battle squads beat up anyone who voices a dissent. Not an easy place to be in, definitely. So I have to admire Vimbai for surviving quite well, being her own woman, not letting anyone dictate her life or her decisions.
But I did find her voice to be over-dramatic sometimes.
I liked Dumisani a lot for the most part. But he is flawed too, and I cannot sympathize with how he used and ultimately misled Vimbai. I know why he did it, but I lost a bit of admiration for him. Of course, if I really knew what it means to have a secret like his in Harare, then maybe I'd be more understanding. I don't despise Dumisani, though, for the same reasons I don't despise Vimbai for acting like she did in the end.
It makes the story more realistic, if I can say so, and more human. This is not a fairy tale, or at least not a Disney one. But it's a story that is easy to get into, and has the bonus of being different from what I normally read, set in a real world so far from my own in many ways. So I appreciated it all the more for it.
And here we are again for a second year of Nerds Heart YA. I'm judging the first round again. The books I have read are
Shine, Coconut Moon by Neesha Meminger
and
Skunk Girl by Sheba Karim
Shine, Coconut Moon by Neesha Meminger
The Summary Samar is a seventeen-year-old girl living in Linton, New Jersey. Her family is of Indian origins but her mother, who brought her up as a single parent, has always tried to keep her away from her heritage and her grandparents. She's taught Samar to feel like an American, rather than Indian, with the same rights and freedoms of any other citizen, regardless of her ethnicity, but her mother's intentions to save Samar from the restrictions that she had to endure as a child are turning her into a coconut: brown on the outside and white on the inside. An unexpected reunion with uncle Sandeep, whom Samar had never met, soon after the 9/11 attacks, ignites Samar's need to reconnect with her heritage and find out more about herself.
What I liked: I thought the idea of linking the typical teenager's need of self-discovery to the exploration of one's cultural identity was a great idea. When Samar says: I couldn't feel more different. I feel like the epitome of different - from everyone. I feel like there's no one else like me on this whole planet she's channeling, unknowingly, the spirit of being a teenager. In her case it's symbolised by her new-found origins. But I challenge anyone to raise their hand and say they haven't felt this way at 17. The 9/11 setting added some edginess, some uncomfortable moments, which at first they felt a bit deliberate but they all came together in the end. Of course, I loved learning about Sikh culture, of which I know little about. Especially what it is like for a Sikh to live away from the homeland and still carry on the faith. Just as much as I was interested in reading about being a Muslim in Does my head look big in this? I enjoyed the parts which dealt with the rituals and the traditions of the Sikh. Regarding the characters,I must say I loved uncle Sandeep. He's the sweetest, most likeable character, always ready to help, to talk, to hug. Although he's a bit too willing to please Samar and do whatever she asks him to do. Also, for all her faults, I thought Samar's mother was an example of an independent spirit, a women who rebelled and tried to instill the same spirit into her daughter, with unexpected results. I couldn't not like her.
What I didn't like: Unfortunately I found Samar's character to be flat and occasionally annoying. Aside from her journey of self-discovery, there wasn't anything that made her stand out as a person. Was that the point? That she needed to find her true identity before developing a personality? I don't know, but aside from being a rebelling teenager, which is normal, I couldn't find any special likable qualities about her. At some point I even thought she was taking her anger against her mother a bit too far and I ended up siding with her mother. Am I getting too old? Actually all the teenager characters were sort of bland, bordering toward boring, which was a little disappointing.
Skunk Girl by Sheba Karim
The Summary: At 16-year-old, Nina Khan had two main things that plagued her life: the constant comparison to the super genius older sister and body hair. She's also from a Pakistan family and one of the only brown kids in her school, which, as she puts, sucks.
It's not that I hate high school. It's just that I wish it would hurry up and end already.
A part from that, she's a normal teenager, who has friends, and would like to party and date like any other kid. But her family, unlike Samar's, is of the strict kind and won't allow Nina to mingle with boys. Things, of course, get harder for her, when a new kid, Asher Richelli, arrives in school and Nina falls for his Italian charm, like half of the female population in the school.
What I liked: First of all, the writing was excellent. I loved Nina. She's smart, pessimistic and sarcastic, and completely lovable. You just want to squeeze her in a bear hug and tell her she's gorgeous. I also loved her friends, Bridget and Helena. Bridget seems to be the perfect Sagittarian: athletic but clumsy, and always blurting out whatever comes up in her head. Helena is the romantic, pretty type, always looking for the endless love, and always looking at the positive side of things. They are great counterparts for Nina's shy personality. I also thought Nina's family was very likable. They are strict Muslims, but they visible love their daughter to bits. You can see it in her dad, especially, in his awkward attempts at bonding with Nina. So adorable. Also irresistible is his love for food, for Sufi mystical music, and for bear hugs. All these great characters come to life thanks to Nina's hilarious sarcastic comments and humour. I frequently laughed out loud, while I kept my grin on almost all the time. And what can I do, books that make me laugh will always win my heart. Like Shine, Cononut Moon, Skunk Girl is a journey of discovery. But unlike the other, this story is more about acceptance. As a teenager Nina feels restricted and repressed, but she also slowly comes to realise what a great gift it is to have a family who loves you and will care for you always. Her parents are very similar to Samar's grandparents, and it'd be interesting to see how the two characters would fare if they could swap families. Nina would experience a greater freedom, but wouldn't be part of a bigger community of people sharing the same cultural background. Samar would understand what it meant for her mother to live under repressive rules, but would experience that comforting choral feeling of big family reunions. I think it would enrich both of them
What I didn't like: Not much. I was a bit disappointed by the ending, but not completely. I knew it had to be that way, I just can't help wishing Nina would stand up to her parents just a bit more. Her religion seems to be imposed on her, as something she can't change, just accept, while I'd love for her to be free to experience teenage love without fearing her parent's fury. But I guess that's just how things are sometimes. All in all, it was a great realistic insight into a Pakistani girl's life, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.
So, decision time. I'd say you will have guessed by now, but let's make it official. The book that will go to the next round is:
"What's the big deal? It's a piece of material." My mother snorts. "Since when do people see it as a mere piece of material? You and I both know that's a tad optimistic, ya Amal." "So what? I can deal with all the crap...I want to try...and I want that identity. You know, that symbol of my faith. I want to know what it means to be strong enough to walk around with it on and stick up for my right to wear it."
So that's why sixteen-year old Amal decides to go full-time. That means wearing the hijab anytime a man who's not part of the family is around. Outside her house, at the mall, at the cafè, but especially in school. Not a decision to be taken lightly, when you're an Australian-born -Palestinian-Muslim student in a posh non-Muslim school. It takes guts, but Amal is dead serious and won't listen to anyone telling her it's a crazy idea.
I really enjoyed reading this. My first thought was that it should be given to anyone who's ever wondered what a girl who wears the veil thinks and feels. What are the reasons behind her custom. Whether she was forced to wear it or she's proud of it. It answers all these questions and more, in a straight-forward way. But this is not simply a book with a message. It's mainly a very funny, witty and engrossing read. Its main character Yamal is a strong-minded and extremely smart girl who sticks up for her traditions and culture, while being a normal teenager with everyday teenage problems like zits, boy crushes, bitchy queen bees and best friends with weight complexes. It's hard not to like her. Then there're a myriad of secondary characters: Amal's classmates, her Muslim friends, her family, her grumpy Greek neighbour. They all make this book a pleasure to read. I especially loved Amal's relationship with Mrs Vaselli, the Greek neighbour. It has a bumpy start, but it gets warmer and heartfelt and bittersweet.
One underlining theme of the book was the different ways in which human beings can experience immigration. Some will try to forget their past and blend in with the locals, in the hope of being accepted as equals. Others will cling on their cultures, and stick together, so not to feel too far away from home, and to remember who they are. Others will never truly feel at home and will end regretting the journey all their lives. And then there's the second generation, the kids like Amal, who are born in a country, but for many people, they will never belong because their parents came from somewhere else. To Amal she is a real Australian and is entitled to the same rights as any other Australian citizen, but at the same time she's also a Muslim whose parents happened to be born in Palestine. Just like her friend Eileen whose parents are Japanese. Although Amal is proud of her heritage and will always defend it against its detractors, you can definitely sympatise with her when she's constantly asked to respond for terrorists actions done in the name of her religion. Wearing the hijab makes it even harder, because it exposes her immediately to the public and it seems to give people the right to associate her with murderous acts committed by complete strangers. And while Amal can't tolerate to always having to defend herself, the author is also showing that is just ignorance and the media depiction of terrorists as simply Muslim which causes confusion and misunderstandings among people. When Amal decides to respond, she's always spot on: it's not about religion. Just like it wasn't about religion in Northern Ireland. It's about politics. It seems like a very easy thing to grasp when she says it, and yet, TV and newspapers makes it a lot harder to tell the difference.
Another aspect that it brilliantly dealt with is the treatment of women in Islam. Most of non-muslim would think that Islam would be suppressive of women's rights. While Amal has being brought up to stand up for herself, to believe in education as a means to achieve independence, and to protest when she's called a "chick" by her male friends. When her Muslim friend is pushed by her mother to find a suitable husband so that she can leave school and be a good wife, Amal is appalled that her friend's mother considers this part of being a good Muslim. To her it's just part of a tradition, not of her religion. While I don't know enough about Islam to say if this it true or not, I appreciate the author's efforts to show that not every Muslim thinks the same, and that there can be multiple interpretations of the same religion.
One thing that I had a bit of a problem, though, was with Amal's decision to avoid any physical contact with the opposite sex before marriage. I understand that it's part of her religion of which I know little about. But I do feel that it's very similar to the Christian idea of virginity as the highest form of purity and the idea of sex as sinful and impure. I strongly oppose this view , I believe it's unhealthy and unnatural. In the same way I shudder at the thought of virginity pacts and rings, I can't bring myself to warm up to Amal's idea of refusing any kind of promiscuity until she finds the right one with whom she will spend the rest of her life. I see it as a very unrealistic expectation which is bound to bring her disappointment. I know many won't agree and will tell me I should respect her right to choose not to have sex until marriage. I do respect it, but I don't agree with it, and I can't shut up about it.
Anyway, I'm really happy I read this, it has definitely open up my mind about many issues, and it has given me a rare insight in the mind of a teenage Muslim in a way both entertaining and satisfying. You shouldn't miss it.
I hadn't realised but the new cover for Magic Under Glass has been revealed!
I know I'm stuck with this anyway,
which is alright, but the US cover has much more meaning now. I wish I could just have it in my hands now and read it. Knowing that it exists only because lots and lots of bloggers showed their outraged to the publisher. It's not just more accurate and fair, it's also a lot prettier than the old one, I think.
The recent literary racefail events made me realise how much my reading (and the bookshelves around here) are mostly dominated by white authors writing about white characters. It's not always necessarily stated that characters are white, but it's implied. After the Bloomsbury debacle, I skimmed the shelves of the bookshop I work in, focusing on the kids/YA section, and noticed how little ethnic diversity was represented there. Same goes with my bookshelves. Not enough non-white characters or authors. It's not today news, it's something I should have always been aware of. And I sort of was, but not completely. I've always been intrigued by books with characters from different cultures, because most of the times, it's the only way for me to get to know closely and personally someone whose background is so different from mine, even if this person is fictional. I'd love to be able to travel more, meet people from all over the world, with any kind of skin colour, and know how they live, what they think. But I'm stuck in Ireland, a sort of immigrant myself, with all of my friends being white (very white!) and almost all Europeans. I'm also not the most sociable person, and although Ireland is more multicultural than ever, I've never being friends with a Black or Asian person, for example. And that's where books come in handy. They supply me with what my lack of sociability should provide. That's a way of seeing it anyway.
And that's why I picked up The Deportees and other stories. OK, also because I heart Roddy Doyle to infinity and have been waiting to read this for ages. This is a collection of eight stories which Roddy Doyle wrote for Metro Eireann, the first and only multicultural paper in Ireland. At the end of the 90's and the start of the noughties, Ireland's celtic tiger was beginning to roar. "I went to bed in one country and woke up in a different one", writes Doyle in the foreword. This new Ireland was the home of hundreds of thousands of "new Irish" coming from all over the world: Poland, Zimbabwe, Romania, Spain, South Africa, Philippines, Nigeria, Italy, Lithuania, France, Pakistan ... In the 80's Jimmy Rabbitte, the character who forms the band the Commitments, famously said that the Irish were the niggers of Europe. Now Ireland is the place many Africans choose as their home, and Jimmy Rabbitte wouldn't even dream of saying the same again. No, now what he dreams about is forming a band made entirely of immigrants! In the story which gives the books its title, "The Deportees", we get to meet Jimmy again, years later, married with kids. And dying to form another band, even though his wife is expecting another child and hates the idea. But he can't help himself and one day he grabs his laptop and writes the ad for Hotpress:
Brothers and Sisters, Welcome to Ireland. Do you want the Celtic Tiger to dance to your music? If yes, the World's Hardest-Working Band is looking for you. Contact J. Rabbitte at 089-22524242 or rabbittej@banjo.ie. White Irish need not apply.
This was one of my favourite of the collection. It's basically a sequel to the Commitments, which despite being way too short for my greedy taste, manages to recreate the same cheerful, upbeat, and absolutely hilarious atmosphere of the original novel. Alone, it would make the book worth reading. But it's not the only great one in the mix. It's true that it's a very diverse collection, in every sense, but I found it had more highs than lows and I loved it in its entirety. I devoured it. And now I'm afraid I'll have to buy my own copy 'cause I can't bare to be without it.
I'd definitely want to reread some of them. Especially "Black Hoodie". It's a story told from the point of view of a white Irish teenager who teams up in school with an extremely intelligent and proud Nigerian girl and two other teens, one of which on a wheelchair, to tackle the issue of prejudices against black people and youths in hoodies. It has a real YA feel, the usual Doyle's irresistible humour and some great characters I'd love to know more about.
Another one which intrigued me but left me ambivalent at the end was "The Pram". It's a genuinely spooky story about a Polish child-minder, a baby, a pair of creepy twin girls, and an old pram. Taken out of contest, as a sort of ghost story, I would have loved it. It actually spooked me out quite a little bit. It's cruel, and it shows the condition in which child-minders, especially foreign ones, are treated by wealthy Irish families. But I felt uncomfortable about the way the polish nanny comes across. Without spoiling the ending, if I were one of those wealthy southsider kind of mothers...let's just say I probably wouldn't feel very welcoming towards a Polish nanny again. Maybe the point of the story was only to write a well-crafted urban-gothic story without any other intent. That's fine. But in a collection where the main point seem to show the beautiful country Ireland has become because of the arrival of foreign folks, and to present a different take on some urban legends about what these foreign folks do in the private of their homes (setting up brothels and slaughtering Irish sheep, for instance), this particular tale seemed to me out of tune.
New Boy wasn't out of tune at all. It was short and moving, and just about perfect. It shows how the introduction of a new boy, from Nigeria, into an Irish class, causes some disruption. But it's nothing different than to what happens to a newbie in almost every school. Kids are cruel, at first, and bullies love to show their muscles at every occasion. But the new boy is tough too, and he won't be an easy target. I loved how it shows the little kid's thoughts, his bewilderment at the absurd behaviour of his teacher and his classmates, and I loved the ending. Wonderfully bittersweet.
Another one I really enjoyed was "Home to Harlem", about a black Irish young man, who goes to New York looking for his roots, trying to understand where exactly he can fit in. It was seriously funny, if maybe lacking of a real plot. I didn't mind, cause the dialogues, and the Roddydoyleness made up for it. So, yeah, I enjoyed most of them, with the exception of "57% Irish" which was too confusing, and too rushed, although I liked its basic idea. Although not all perfect, they were truly enjoyable, and more importantly, they were necessary.
P.S. While posting the link to Metro Eireann I found out that you can read even more stories on the website. I never even thought of that. Score!
P.P.S. I also found this video of Roddy Doyle talking about his book.What he says about the meaning of Irishness is important. That the act of defining a nationality is an act of exclusion and thus it's problematic. I completely agree. The idea that permeates the Deporteess instead is one of inclusion. It's embracing as opposed to confining. And that's why I can't help but sings its praises with all my heart.
From the Bloomsbury Kids website: “Bloomsbury is ceasing to supply copies of the US edition of *Magic Under Glass*. The jacket design has caused offense and we apologize for our mistake. Copies of the book with a new jacket design will be available shortly.”
Three brief sentences. But they mean a lot. Our voices have been heard, and thanks to many readers who complained to the publisher, one step toward a wider multicultural visibility has been taken. I'm really looking forward to seeing the new cover now!
I first heard about Magic Under Glass by Jaclyn Dolamore and its problematic cover yesterday, thanks to Ranay's post. I went on to read more posts and more comments about this, and now I'll try to gather my own thoughts on the subject. It has happened once again, that a publisher, Bloomsbury in this case, has chosen the picture of a white girl to represent the main character in the book, who is actually dark-skinned. It's a fantasy book, so the main character doesn't have a real ethnicity, but to quote the author's own words:
Nimira is from a fictional land which is not meant to be a parallel to a specific country in our world. Her culture has elements, such as costume and music, that might be drawn from Eastern European, Asian and Roma cultures, and I love that readers are interpreting her look in different ways.
Now, the issue is definitely NOT with the author. Quite the opposite. The problem here is the publisher and whoever is in charge of the marketing. I'm not going to talk about the book itself. It actually sounds like something I would really like, and I'm looking forward to reading it, especially after seeing the author's personal blog and discovering such an interesting person behind the book. I don't want to hurt her or her book in any possible way, especially since it's her first, and I can only imagine how over the moon she is feeling right now. I don't want to spoil this special moment.
But something needs to be said, and I believe the more people show concern and outrage about this issue, the more likely our collective voice is to be heard. This kind of exclusion towards non-white people from book covers is unacceptable. If you think the same, let the publisher know. I did. Their contact page is here.
But instead of pouring your anger onto this particular book by calling for a boycott, and thus hurting a young author's expectations, why not show our thirst for diversity in books by reading and reviewing more of them? Chasing Ray has an excellent and inspiring post about why diversity in kids and YA matters and how we should demand it more. READ IT! I know I don't read enough of them these days. And since I'm a white person, living in a western country with mostly white friends, I sometimes forget how important this is. I forget because I can, not because I want to. This is not an excuse, though. That's why I'm going to actively try and include more ethnic diversity into my reading and search for books about non-white people (kids and adults) which are not about Afro-American slaves or about the holocaust. And then I will spread the word about them!
