My local library branch shelves the newly acquired books on a long bookcase right inside the front door. The books are divided into fiction and nonfiction, but otherwise no distinctions are made.
I’ve developed the habit of zipping through the section, picking a few books for late-night recreational reading based on such deep thinking as liking the cover design, typeface, title and story blurb inside the front cover.
I quickly reject any book:
–touted as the tale of a family “torn apart” by a tragic accident;
–about women who triumph after being dumped by their dirtbag husbands; or
–set in the future.
Some things get grabbed without hesitation:
–trashy novels or history set in Great Britain, past or present;
–Cop stories and military memoirs;
–New takes on race relations or the 1960s Civil Rights era;
–Stuff on FDR, Lyndon Johnson or Muhammad Ali.
I confess, and here I reveal myself to be even more…well, mercurial would be kind: I also tend to pull out novels with (1) good titles; and (2) author names that appear to be Jewish or Irish.
The latest great score to come out of this imperfect approach is “Hold Love Strong,” a novel by Matthew Aaron Goodman and published in 2009 by Simon & Schuster. Goodman’s book met a number of my criteria–grabby cover, arresting blurb, likely Jewish author name, good title, race-relations subject matter.
This is a wonderful novel about an African American boy named Abraham Singleton who must navigate his blighted neighborhood, skirt the crackheads, cops and other dangerous types, and sort out the complicated feelings and demands woven into that thing we call family.
The book opens this way:
“The first pain came at noon but she didn’t tell anybody about it. My mother was thirteen and she went about the afternoon being every part of such a precarious age. She watched TV. She popped pimples and studied her face in the bathroom mirror. She listened to the radio, sang along with songs, and laughed along with the afternoon DJs. She wrote in her diary, ‘I still can’t Believe! I’m pregnant…’ “
The word “lyrical” is ubiquitous in blurb copy on new fiction. In this case, it’s accurate. Goodman has a very rare gift for telling harsh truths in beautiful language–without losing veracity, without being sentimental, without straining to take on the voice of a young boy using a strictly vernacular style.
The nimble young human brain, and heart, are capable of such rapid, wild swings and shockingly wise insights. Capturing them is something of a miracle. Goodman does it.
My rec-reading selection system may be a little flimsy, but it worked this time. Check this one out.
