Daniel Black

Isaac Swinton grew up in Missouri as the son of a hard-driving, caustic father named Jacob — a man who saw Isaac's sensitivity, artistic nature, and desires as failures of masculinity and made sure Isaac knew it. The conditioning ran deep. Now it's the late 1980s and Isaac has moved to Chicago, carved out a life of his own, and finally found the courage to seek community as a gay Black man. He's building something fragile and genuine and his own. Then two things happen almost show more simultaneously that shatter his hard-won peace — the AIDS crisis tears through his community, taking people he loves, and the Rodney King beating and its aftermath reawakens the full weight of being Black in America. Joy, extinguished.
His therapist suggests he write it all down. So Isaac begins — his earliest memories, growing up under Jacob's thumb, the specific cruelties and the buried moments of love, his move to Chicago and the community he found there. The writing takes him further than he expected — back to Arkansas, to his ancestral roots, to the inherited trauma of generations. In the process he writes a novel of his own, following two enslaved brothers named Matthew and Jesse Lee, who gradually reveal themselves as avatars of Isaac's own father and uncle.

[May contain spoilers]
Isaac gradually discovers that the two enslaved brothers in his novel — Matthew searching endlessly for Jesse Lee — mirror the fractured love between his father and his uncle Esau. Writing their story becomes a way of understanding his father's wounds, the generational trauma that shaped Jacob's cruelty, and the love underneath it that never found its proper expression. The surprise discovery that reshakes Isaac's world connects to his father's hidden history and the family secrets buried in Arkansas. The ending has Isaac performing a ritual at his father's grave — pouring libation, speaking the truth aloud, releasing the pain — and arriving at something that looks like forgiveness without requiring it. The writing is lyrical throughout, described as needing to be consciously slowed down to fully absorb.
What I think: This is devastating, beautiful, deeply literary coming-of-age fiction — the AIDS crisis and Rodney King as twin backdrops to one man's self-excavation is profoundly moving. The prose is genuinely gorgeous. show less

A debut novel's source must cut close to the author's thigh-bone to be considered authentic, authoritative and believable. If readers come from Daniel Black's traditional black Baptist/AME religious background, had a working-class family farm in close proximity, were educated within a one-room schoolhouse by a superb teacher, or enjoyed the hilarious banter of distant relatives at huge family reunions, they will relate to the pace and storytelling style of this novel. My Nebraska childhood show more made this novel's setting very familiar, but the universal appeal of the storyline went far beyond the novel's setting.

The author stepped forward to relate the anguish of a young, educated black male (T.L. Tyson) returning home to wrestle with the demons that drove him away. Although he tells the story brilliantly, this novel alone does not completely answer the questions asked on TLs return to Swamp Creek, Arkansas. The author has penned some subsequent unrelated novels, but I am particularly delighted to know this story is revisited in his recent novel, "Twelve Gates to the City."

If you gravitate toward the 'light and happy' family saga, this is not your novel. I identify with any protagonist who questions why he/she is not loved by a parent at a fulfilling level, or is loved or motivated only by one or two individuals encountered in their lifetime, yet strives to persevere in spite of numerous setbacks.

TL returns to his parents' home to visit his closest sibling, Sister, and question his mother and father about their parenting styles with him and each of his three siblings. As often happens, he learns a lot more about their hidden lives and individual childhoods that helps explain more about his personal motivations than he ever expected, prompting him to act in ways he never anticipated.

The town's eccentric characters add familiar amusements that lighten the dark, plodding storyline, and the successful character developments that ultimately blossom between the Tysons and some of the inhabitants of Swamp Creek make this novel worthwhile reading. I am excited to read the sequel. show less

There are quite a few novels set in the mid-1900s that tell the story of a young child in a large family who perseveres in spite of their living situation made up of loneliness and abuse.

If there were a ‘Battle of the Mean Mamas,' the literary contestants would certainly include the mother from Delores Phillips' "Darkest Child," the mother from Sapphires' "Push," and Daniel Black's ‘mean’ Emma Jean from his third novel, "Perfect Peace." "Perfect Peace" is different because, for the show more first time in this novel, both the perspective and the protagonist are male, and the storyline is unique.

Only the writing skill of Daniel Black could make the reader accept the premise that Emma Jean Peace could actually conceal the sex of her newborn. His ability to flesh-out these characters and make their actions and reactions appear as rational, plausible possibilities was the key to the success of this novel. In doing so, Black forces his readers to question the source of human femininity and masculinity.

Each character in the novel is put there to challenge beliefs and allow a new perspective on Perfect's ability to analyze what ultimately makes him feminine or masculine. Coming to any finite conclusion before he learns to love himself or find a 'safe place' where he can be himself is the journey we travel with him, his family, and his community.

I find solace in reading these fictional 'mean-Mama dramas' because in one way I am reminded that the treatment I received wasn’t unique or extreme. While reading “Perfect Peace,” I appreciated being able to go beyond reading-for-entertainment toward cultivating a deeper understanding of the mental and physical aspects of sexuality, bi-sexuality and transgender issues. I’m glad the storyline isn’t pat or predictable, and you will be continually surprised by the reactions of Perfect's family and social group. In the end, you will be continually surprised by your own reactions, which you will question long after you've turned the last page. show less

This is a historical fiction told through reflective diary entries and therapy sessions. It sat on my shelf for a year before my book club, Claw Club, finally chose it for April. The style shifts between personal memories and therapy, and it felt deeply focused and interior. I was never wondering what Isaac was feeling or thinking, it's all so clearly exposed. It rarely feels like it's preaching, despite tackling so much. The idea that closeness doesn't define love, that apologies don't heal show more wounds but only relieve the person giving them, that healing requires you to tend to yourself, are all things I needed to read. It feels a little stupid to say a book really made me think, but it did. It traces the lineage of racism that persists and the ways we in Western culture all participate despite our best intentions. I think this book could change things if it were more widely read. It’s a beautiful, impeccably crafted story, but I’m not at peace with the end. I didn't realize it was connected to Don't Cry for Me, and now I need to pick that one up immediately. show less