A Book A Week

Last spring, I traveled to Washington, DC, to celebrate my birthday. With its convenient public transportation, incredible food scene, and deep historical roots, it’s a city that’s both easy to navigate and endlessly fascinating. It had been nearly a decade since my last visit, and one of the stops I was most eager to make was the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture. During my previous trip, the museum was still under construction, so finally experiencing its vast collection was something I had anticipated for years. The exhibits are extensive and impossible to take in fully in just one day.

Tucked into a quiet corner of the museum is a small room designed to resemble a Southern chapel. At its altar rests the original coffin in which young Emmett Till was laid to rest. Standing in that space, I was overwhelmed with emotion, completely transported to one of the darkest moments in American history. A photo inside the coffin shows Till’s brutalized face, nearly unrecognizable, while soft hymns play in the background. Elsewhere in the museum, a vandalized metal sign commemorating Till’s murder, riddled with bullet holes, serves as a chilling reminder that the hate that took his life is still alive today.

Wright Thompson understands the deep-seated history of racism in the South all too well. His family farm in the Mississippi Delta sits just 23 miles from the site of one of the most infamous and consequential murders in American history. In The Barn, he digs into the hidden truths surrounding Emmett Till’s death, exposing a long-standing system of deception and silence that has protected those responsible for generations. As Thompson reveals, the true story is even more complex and harrowing than many realize.

Money, Mississippi, has long been marked as the place where Till was killed, but the exact location of the murder has mostly been erased from the history books. The crime took place in a barn owned by one of his murderers, nestled in a six-square-mile stretch of land officially designated as Township 22 North, Range 4 West, Section 2, West Half. It is steeped in Delta history and myth, not far from the legendary Dockery Plantation. That barn still stands today, an unassuming relic of an unspeakable atrocity. The current owner now uses it for storage, keeping Christmas decorations in the very space where Till’s body once hung, a stark and unsettling contrast to its horrific past.

Through his deep ties to the region, its people, and its culture, Thompson meticulously reconstructs the true events of that fateful night. He holds accountable those who committed the crime and the system that shielded them from justice.

The Barn expands our understanding of the Emmett Till case, shedding new light on the circumstances that led to his tragic and inevitable death. It is a stark reckoning with America’s legacy of racism and a sobering reminder of how a single lie can spiral into irreversible consequences. I was stunned by how much of this history I had never been taught. Growing up in South Texas, Till’s story was only briefly mentioned in my school history lessons. The full weight of it only became apparent as I sought the truth on my own. Thompson’s account is unflinching, often uncomfortable, but undeniably essential. What struck me most is just how recent this history is. This isn’t some distant past. Many of the people involved are still alive. The Barn is a necessary read, both as a reflection on our past and a warning of how easily history can repeat itself.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 17)

The summer of 1974 proved to be a turbulent period in Boston. A scorching heatwave blankets the city, mirroring the simmering civil unrest beneath the surface. The city's decision to support the desegregation of all public schools triggers significant upheaval, as it means students will be bussed across town to foster greater integration on school campuses. In "Southie," a proud, long-standing Irish enclave steeped in tradition, the residents are deeply disgruntled. Desegregation jeopardizes their way of life, regardless of its inherent prejudice, and they are willing to go to great lengths to prevent it.

Amid these tensions, Mary Pat Fennessy is also deeply troubled by the news regarding the schools. But she's grappling with more immediate concerns. As a single mother, she struggles to stay one step ahead of bill collectors. One night, Mary Pat's teenage daughter, Jules, stays out late and doesn't return home. The same evening, a young Black man meets a tragic end, struck by a subway train in mysterious circumstances. Initially, these two occurrences appear unrelated. However, Mary Pat begins to uncover deeply unsettling connections, propelling her into a relentless quest to locate her missing daughter. Desperate for answers and undeterred by potential consequences, Mary Pat embarks on a journey that leads her to confront mobsters, politicians, and fellow citizens, all entangled in the tumultuous backdrop of the era.

Dennis Lehane's novels, such as Mystic River and Shutter Island, are among my all-time favorites. Thus, when I first got wind of his latest offering, Small Mercies, I quickly included it in my reading list. Lehane possesses a narrative style that cuts to the core, unafraid to illuminate the most unsettling facets of our history. By situating his latest creation within the backdrop of the civil rights movement, Lehane introduces an inherent tension that simmers to the surface in several heart-wrenching scenes. The connection between Mary Pat and her Black co-worker generates one of the most emotionally charged moments I've encountered in any book this year. However, that's just skimming the surface of this exceptional literary work.

Beneath the racial complexities that form the foundation of this tale lies a deep contemplation on the essence of motherhood. In Mary Pat, Lehane has molded a woman in the throes of desperation. She grapples with the desperate struggle to stay afloat, both financially and emotionally. Her desperation is magnified by her desire to be a good mother, offering her daughter a chance at a life better than her own. As her daughter vanishes, she becomes consumed by the desperation for answers, willing to go to any lengths to find closure. Mary Pat is a profoundly multifaceted character, wrestling with her own personal demons, including deep-seated racism. Nevertheless, I found myself drawn into her story, empathizing with her predicament and rooting for her path to redemption.

Lately, Lehane has been heavily immersed in writing, producing, and showrunning television series. In interviews promoting this book, he hinted that it might be his final novel. If Small Mercies marks the culmination of his literary career, it serves as a remarkable note to end on. Nonetheless, for the sake of readers, I hold out hope that more stories are waiting to be told by this gifted author.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2023, 87)

Every once and a while, a book garners such commercial and critical acclaim that it becomes a kind of phenomena. Since its release, I have heard nothing but praise for The Help. As is often the case, I put the book on my list of books to read, and there it has sat. With the movie adaptation of the novel receiving award recognition, I finally got my hands on a copy of the book and decided to see what all the talk was about.

The story opens with a narrative by Aiblileen, a black maid maid working for a young, white family in Jackson, Mississippi, 1962. She carries a sense of wisdom, as she raises the young daughter of the family, her seventeenth white baby. Despite the loss of her son, he couldn't get the proper care in the "colored" hospital, Aibileen finds a kind of solace through her job, her faith, and her best friend Minny. Minny is also a maid. While she is praised for her cooking skills, her sassy mouth has gotten her in trouble with previous employers, and finds her with no job and a husband who beats her regularly.

Eugenia Phealan, Skeeter, is a fresh out of college, 22 year old white woman, who has returned home, to her mother's dismay, without a husband. We learn that Skeeter has always had trouble fitting in with what society, and her mother, expect of her. Upon her return home, she is shocked to learn that the maid who raised her, Constantine, has left the family home, and no one seems to want to tell Skeeter what happened to her. Saddened by the loss of her childhood companion and eager to get a job at a big publishing company, Skeeter decides to write something important. After a chance encounter with Aibileen, Skeeter enlists her and her friends to tell their stories of being, "The Help" to white families.

I found this to be an unputdownable read, that perfectly mixed lighthearted fiction with the horrors of racism in the south during the 1960's. It is fascinating to read about three strong women who are forced to deal with problems that, unfortunately, many can still relate to today. By relaying the story of each main character through their perspective, Stockett provides beautifully imagined insight into the minds of these progressive women. In knowing the history of this time period an the violence it entailed, there was and underlying sense of suspense throughout the entire story. A kind of To Kill A Mocking Bird for modern audiences, The Help is a book that demands to be read by all.

I post all of my reviews to Amazon and always appreciate those who mark them as 'helpful'. You can see this review by clicking here. Thanks for taking the time to read and respond to my review!


For more information check out the author's website http://www.kathrynstockett.com/
and http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/4667024-the-help.


(week 9, book 10)