the jolt of the familiar against the raw shock of the new
also, Happy Black History Month
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Dear friend —
It still feels like a miracle: I got the first of my COVID-19 vaccine shots earlier this month. With uncharacteristic optimism, I’d signed up on New Mexico’s central vaccine registration system despite knowing I was at the bottom of the eligibility list. Then on a random Tuesday, I got a text: “Notice from DOH to Siel: vaccine is now available at a location near you, and sign-up is on a first-come, first-served basis.”
The text had a link. With characteristic skepticism, I thought: Ha, phishing scam! But I clicked anyway, got an appointment, and that Friday morning, received my shot!
I’m now in Texas and have yet to secure my second shot, but with just the one, I’m 80%+ protected from the virus, which means I’ve started doing bold, daredevil-ish things again, like going grocery shopping in person.
The lesson I take from this: If you want something, sign up for it even if it seems like a long shot, because you might still get it. Also, have books on your nightstand, because the vaccine can make you tired, and you’ll want good reads to aid your recovery.
The Office of Historical Corrections by Danielle Evans (Riverhead, 2020)
Here’s the formula for a Danielle Evans short story. Element 1: A young woman at loose ends is haunted by the memory of Element 2: her dead mother, which propels the young woman to act out by fucking Element 3: an unsavory guy she doesn’t care much about. Events take place at Setting: a surreal event (e.g. underwater-themed music video shoot) and are cut through with Theme: race and identity in contemporary America.
Yet somehow Danielle’s stories are anything but formulaic. They’re complex investigations into why we do what we do on a micro level — and how that then plays out on a macro level. Why do smart girls sleep with slimy men? Why do people of color allow themselves to be used to protect the status quo? Why do seemingly normal white people turn into spokespeople for the far right?
I read this story collection in a single day, partly because I forgot to start the book until the day of a book club meeting but mostly because I couldn’t put it down. This book will change the way you see your country — and yourself. Read it if you love the jolt of the familiar against the raw shock of the new.
Buy from Bookshop
Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (Knopf, 2013)
Ifemelu and Obinze are two smart, confident teenagers who fall in love, but then see their academic and professional prospects disappear in military-ruled Nigeria. So the two part, Ifemelu going to the U.S. on a scholarship and Obinze, later on, to the U.K. on a temporary visa. Struggles and successes ensue — and the two move on to other romantic relationships — yet their love for each other smolders on until —
That description of Americanah’s plot makes the novel sound like a love story — and it is that, but also a lot more. It’s about growing up in Nigeria without realizing you’re Black, about the differences between being African and Black American, about dating a good-looking white man as a Black woman, about the social and professional cache of a western education for Nigerians who return to their home country.
“If you’re going to write about race, you have to make sure it’s so lyrical and subtle that the reader who doesn’t read between the lines won’t even know it’s about race,” Chimananda writes in her novel, which makes you wonder — Is it, perhaps, still necessary to disguise a novel about race as a novel about a romance in order to achieve critical and commercial success? Yet Chimamanda’s novel is very clearly and insistently about race, even as it is subtle and nuanced about what it means to be Black — and how race is perceived, interpreted, and experienced around the world today. Read it if you like being transported across continents and seeing the familiar in startlingly foreign ways.
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An American Marriage by Tayari Jones (Algonquin, 2019)
A man is convicted of a rape he didn’t commit and gets sentenced to twelve years in prison. That alone could form the center plotline of a great legal drama — but in Tayari’s work, serves mostly as the backdrop. What Tayari focuses on instead are the quiet ways people affected by this injustice attempt to continue living their lives.
Should the wife put her life on hold too for her innocent husband — or move forward and pursue her own dreams? Should the husband expect loyalty and fidelity — or acknowledge an inevitable growing apart? Decisions and their consequences ripple out from the couple to their parents, family members, and friends. This story explores with deep emotion America’s dark history of incarcerating innocent Black men. Read it if you like heart wrenching stories that tackle contemporary social issues in an epistolary format.
Buy from Bookshop
Once a month, I share book recommendations. Shape it by recommending a read!
Happy Black History Month, everyone —
Love,
Siel
Three links you might love:
“‘Whoever you think I am, I am not,’ I sighed. ‘I don’t play for anybody’s basketball team.’” My writer friend Samuel Autman on being a 6-foot-4, 210-pound Black man in America.
“The first time he realized that there was something not quite right about him was when a woman crossed the street as she saw him coming. He thought it was a coincidence. Then it happened again.” Ben Okri’s short story “A Wrinkle in the Realm” gave me chills. So real, yet so Kafkaesque —
My friend Stacy Flood’s novella The Salt Fields hits bookstores March 9! I blurbed it, and you should preorder it.
