Before You Suffocate Your Own Fool Self

by Danielle Evans. Exquisite, deft, sharp prose. This girl wields a mighty mean pen. Heartbreaking moments, biting commentary, dialogue packing punches as swift, powerful and smooth as Ali at his peak. I mean, the title alone should tell you that if ever you’ve thought about judging a book by its cover, that time should be now. These stories are wicked smart and beautifully constructed.

When Chickenheads Come Home To Roost

by Joan Morgan. If ever you needed an example of “Knowledge is power” this is it. Each chapter served as veritable checkpoints for what I once believed, currently believe and should aspire to believe (or all of the above) about thriving as a black woman living as a by-product of the hip-hop, post-civil rights, post-practically everything eras. Morgan’s lyrical, conversational tone reads like an all-night girl chat fest talkin’ ’bout loving maturely, the perks and dips of female ambition and independence and understanding and embracing (in that order) feminism.

The book is written just as much for the girls coming of age as it is for those of us who are grown and still growing. Despite the 1999 copyright date, Morgan’s tone and pop culture references are still sharp and viable–a solid testament to the quality of her writing ability and proof that chickenheads or not, we’ve still got work to do with regards to acknowledging, claiming and maintaining our collective power.

How Did You Get This Number

by Sloane Crosley. I covet essay collections, and with this book Crosley delivers one that snaps, crackles and pops with the hilarious and strange, the I shitchu not and the heartachin’ pieces of life.

I’m unabashedly and ridiculously partial to those who bring the wry and witty repartee to everyday observations (i.e. stank taxis, the often incestuous nature of makin’ friends & maybe mores in workplaces), but someone who experienced and exposed the agonizing anxiety of Girl Talk?! She essentially planted herself in a pot o’ gold at the end of my Reading Rainbow with that mention alone.

“Off the Back of a Truck”, “If You Sprinkle” and “An Abbreviated Gift of Tongues” compelled me to share this book with a friend with instructions to keep it swappin’. Her powers of observation are both subtle and supreme. The girl is funny and keen and sharp with the wordplay and this book is well worth the read.

Bitch Is the New Black

by Helena Andrews. In a world of half-hearted and/or half-assed apologies, Helena Andrews gave me 241+ pages of straight, no chaser, unabashed honesty, and I adored every word of it. She’s not every girl and ain’t fidna be the every girl speaking for all young, black, single ladies, but she’s definitely that girl–the one that all-kinds-of-loud says what you and your finely arched eyebrow have been thinking about career-ishness, pop culture, friendship, menfolk and love (or the lack thereof). If you appreciate honesty–in all its heartbreaking, hilarious and hell yes forms–read this book.

It’s a collection of stories standing akimbo in the face of all those who too quickly assess black women as being too much of everything bad and not enough of anything good. As raw as the Eddie Murphy of old and worldlier than your ’round the way girl, BITNB manages to unearth a bit more of the much-hyped mystique surrounding us pigeon-holed BBFs today with sass and great heart.

Her conversation/confessional writing style leads me to feel like we could become great chums were we (namely I) not so adept at erecting the caliber of great emotional walls that rival China’s. Plus, I ain’t never seen the girl in person, but still, there’s a commonality between us based on more than just blackness; several times I actually believed she was inside my head and lived to tell all about it. Consider that a triumph.

Silkie

by Anne-Marie Cusac. Another work assigned in my writing class, this collection of poems tells the story of the Silkie, a mythical creature in Celtic folklore.  Set in Nova Scotia, the silkie is a seal that leaves the ocean and takes human shape while watching the shorelines for potential human mates. Their “prey” are typically people who have strayed from society in some respect or they are discontented with their home lives. Cusac’s book tells the story of Dulsie’s affair with the Silkie and the subsequent judgments she, her father and seals in general receive from the townspeople as a result of the forbidden union. Lyrical and rich with historical detail, the poems interweave tales of love, grief and the mythical possibility of another world in a really lovely way.

Roughhouse

by Thaddeus Rutkowski. This book was assigned in my creative writing class, and I really liked it. It’s a novel told in snapshots, which I found to be both refreshing and intriguing. The subject matter is rather dark and subversive, and there are serious flashes of baudy, black humor. It’s a raw and often bizarre coming-of-age tale told with no mention of names and plenty of family dysfunction.

Dream Boogie: The Triumph of Sam Cooke

by Peter Guralnick. Who knows when I’ll ever finish this book. I’m enthralled and have been in love with Sam Cooke since I was, like, six when I first heard Cupid draw back his bow. I’m practically savoring it, but admittedly have been taken aback by the number of chi’rens he has fathered when I’ve not yet read a third of the book. Still, Guralnick has pieced together one magnificent puzzle about a sweet-faced man whose looks belied his fortitude.