Carole Boston Weatherford

Exquisitely understated design lends visual potency to a searing poetic evocation of the Birmingham church bombing of 1963. The unnamed fictional narrator relates the events of “[t]he year I turned ten,” this refrain introducing such domestic commonplaces as her first sip of coffee and “doz[ing] on Mama’s shoulder” at church. She juxtaposes these against the momentous events of the year: the Children’s March in Birmingham for which the narrator missed school, the March on Washington and the mass meetings at church that she found so soporific. The same matter-of-fact tone continues to relate what happened “[t]he day I turned ten:” “10:22 a.m. The clock stopped, and Jesus’ face / Was blown out of the only stained-glass window / Left standing. . . . ” Documentary gray dominates the palette, the only color angry streaks of red that evoke shattered window frames. The poems appear on recto accompanied by images of childhood—patent-leather shoes, pencils, bobby socks—while full-bleed archival photographs face them on verso. It’s a gorgeous memorial to the four killed on that horrible day, and to the thousands of children who braved violence to help change the world. (Poetry. 10-14)

-Kirkus Review… (more)

Wow, I can see why this book won awards for the year and was on so many best-of lists now that I’ve read it. First, as is mentioned in the book, this is a huge part of history that just isn’t taught in most schools. That’s messed up. I was never taught about this. And I really appreciate the fact then, that the author decided to tell this history in more of a picture book style formatting because hopefully more people will read this book and share it with kids and even though they aren’t learning this in school, they are still learning it while also learning the fact that the history we are taught in classes is dictated by power structures that limit and shape what is taught. And in that lesson, lies the lesson of being able to go out and find the truth and the stories that aren’t being told.

On top of how wonderfully written this book is, the illustrations are fantastic and potent in their emotional and at times symbolic portrayal of this story. Then there’s authors notes that talk more about the history and what inspired the author and illustrator to create this book at the end. It was so interesting to me that the illustrator actually grew up in Tulsa and that his relative has passed the story of what happened that day to him.… (more)

First sentence: Before Alex Haley's novel Roots
proved otherwise, few Black people
thought it possible to trace ancestry
beyond the cold heart of enslavement
to the warm sun of Africa.

My thoughts, initial impression: This is one of those books that just give off Important and Significant vibes. It just screams, "I am a serious book about a serious subject--be in awe of me." I have a love-hate relationship with heavy, "serious" books. Part of me feels obligated to keep up and read every Serious book that comes out just in case they end up winning a literary award. That's why I checked it out from the library.

Premise/plot: Kin is written ALL in verse. There is not a single narrator or protagonist. Not every speaker [narrator] is human. Some of the poems are, I believe, written from the point of view or perspective of more abstract speakers. (Places, objects, abstract subjects?) The premise is that she is giving an account of her ancestry or family tree. That's what it's about on the most surface-level. I think it probably has layers to it.

My thoughts: I found it confusing. I am not objectively saying that it IS confusing just that I found it to be so. It's like some readers see a beautiful cross-stitch embroidery, and I'm seeing the back of it. Poetry can be intimidating. Especially when each poem is from a different speaker, different point of view...especially when the reader is the one mostly responsible for piecing together the poems. Is it worth putting in the work? Maybe. Probably. I don't know because I didn't go the extra mile.… (more)