Jewelle Gomez

Stunning. I know Gomez through her Gilda Stories, some of which are near-perfect. But her poetry, I was unprepared for such breadth of references literary (Audre Lorde, Gertrude Stein, Angelina Grimke, Tracy Chapman, Tennessee Williams, Gil Scot-Heron), cultural (Eleanor Bumpers, Sally Ride, Cellini), and political (Biden, Trump, Loving v. Virginia). And more: there are odes to streetcars, to a buckskin dress, to a restaurant (which is so superb, you can see, hear, feel the movement in every show more line). Every poem is deeply felt and gorgeously written with surprises in every stanza. The book feels like a meditation on the people, books, traditions that make Gomez who she is, a lesbian poet of color ("I love writing the words: / A coloured lesbian" p.46), of Native ancestry. There is such real feeling here, such wit and intelligence, such unexpected turns. This reminded me of June Jordan in its passion and political engagement, but, really, this book is one of a kind. show less

In the Afterword for the 25th Anniversary Edition of The Gilda Stories, Alexis Pauline Gumbs calls the book: "A precise and prophetic work. A neo-slavery escape narrative. An Afro-futuristic projection." And before that, in the introduction to the work, Gomez speaks of how she was spurred into writing the book, and the 'pent-up fury' that went into it. The passion in all of this language, and the way it carefully bleeds through this long-form narrative of vampires and personal history, is show more absolute--and while the book may disappoint readers coming to it from a horror perspective for a tale of vampires and violence, I would answer that it is an important, worthwhile work that takes influence from classic slave narratives, classic novels such as Uncle Tom's Cabin and Giovanni's Room, and moves the narratives into a contemporary space that is at once a coming-of-age tale for a slave-turned-vampire and an examination of growth, love, and hope.

If you're reading this review, and curious about the book, I'm hope you'll read it. It feels like one which should have found its way to my hands much sooner, and one which should be far more widely known, read, and spoken of.

I'd absolutely recommend it. show less

In 1850, A runaway slave hides herself in the cellar of a seemingly abandoned farm. She falls into an exhausted sleep only to be awakened by the white woman who owns the farm. But instead of throwing her back to the men chasing her, the woman -- Gilda -- hides her, provides shelter and a home for her at her brothel near New Orleans, educates the Girl as if she were family, introducing her to her lover Bird, a Lakota woman. Together, the three women form a strong bond, strong enough that show more Gilda decides the she has finally found the one for Bird, to replace her when she takes the true death so that Bird won't be alone in the many hundreds of years she has before her. The three head back to the farm where Gilda asks the Girl if she wants the life of a vampire and all that goes with it.

From that point, the Girl's life changes, she takes on the name of Gilda and learns from Bird and from her new, extended family what it means to be a vampire, to take a little bit of life from a human in exchange for life: pushing them to fulfill a dream or to just ease the mind. No death, that's not what the vampire family is about. Through 200 years, beginning in Louisiana, traveling through the early pioneering days in Yerba Buena, protecting friends and family from her hair salon in the South End of Boston to being hunted as the world lies in ruins due to global climate changes brought about by neglectful politicoes in 2050, Gilda strives to find herself, to uncover what it truly means not just to be a vampire, but to learn what a family really is: the people you care about and who care about you, no matter who or what you are.

What impressed me most about this novel was the humanity of the vampires. Not the typical, cut-throat blood-thirsty fiends from 'Salem's Lot nor the whiney aristocrats from Interview with the Vampire. Instead, they helped those in need, taking only what was necessary to survive, and creating their own family in a world that doesn't understand them. A great book for those who want something other than the typical vampire story. show less

I can’t quite believe that this book was written and published back in 1991, and yet it undoubtedly was. Jewelle Gomez challenges the mythos surrounding vampires in culture and lore by writing her protagonist, Gilda, as a Black American lesbian - the polar opposite of the vampires popularized by authors such as Stoker, Rice, and Süskind. Gilda begins her tale as a nameless Girl, recently run away from the plantation where she was born and raised. As she runs, she is confronted by a man show more who wishes her harm (rape most assuredly and a return to the plantation from where she has run from or at least back to the status of slave), and she proves her mettle from the get go: waiting with preternatural patience until her hidden blade can find his heart. Bathed in blood, nameless, and having shed the painful memories of the remnants of her family that she left behind, she is reborn (literally and figuratively) under the care of Gilda, a vampire who runs a brothel, and her lover and companion Bird, a Lakota woman. As the first Gilda chooses to go into the light for the True Death, Bird completes the process of transformation, and our protagonist begins a new life after taking on the name of her creator. Gomez traces Gilda’s life through 200 years of American history, touching on so many powerful themes around the changing landscape, the face of female survival, the power inherent in Black women, the strength in female relationships (lesbian or otherwise), and created family (just to name a few) that to fully unpack this novel would take an encyclopedia. Suffice to say, that it deserves a place in the canon not just as a powerful piece of vampire literature, but also as a commentary on the evolution of American society. show less