I had the great fortune to discover two very particular books I want to shout about. I was taking a much-needed rest from many months of work on my second book, and I knew that reading good books was exactly the medicine I needed, along with playing Bach’s music on the piano, and taking frequent walks with my precious dog Peaches.

These two works are both written by women, one known one unknown, they are both about hard truths in our contemporary landscape, they are both brave and innovative in the storytelling. In short I felt both these books demanded some conversation and reflection.

The Worst Thing We’ve Ever Done, a memoir by Carol Menaker, is the story of one woman’s meticulous piecing together of a consequential mistake she made over 30 years ago when she was on a jury that helped to convict a black man, Freddy Burton (aka Muhammed) with unsubstantial, careless, and racially slanted information. Living for decades with her part in this miscarriage of justice weighed on Menaker and propelled her to do the research and write a most authentic story she could, both for herself and the rest of the world.

This small but serious book reads as both memoir and journalistic non-fiction as she attempts to get at the truth of what happened all those years ago in Philadelphia. It’s a piercing and heartfelt account of white privilege and naivete gone wrong; she had lived an insular life in a middle-class Jewish family, was very young when she became a juror in a murder trial, and knew little about the lives of the poor and marginalized people of color who lived in her city.

Carol is a good friend of mine, but this has little to do with my high regard for this beautifully written, honest story of coming to terms with a past that haunted her and pushed her to find the truth so that Mr. Burton might ultimately receive some justice.

Her “moral compass” comes through loud and clear in the pages of this book as she follows leads, writes letters, makes connections that might support Burton’s ultimate vindication. As it turns out her book has lit some fire amongst those who are involved in the the racial justice issue, and some people have come forward to offer her more information as a result of reading it. The story has a life of its own as it should, and in the interests of not giving anything away, I refrain from describing the book’s conclusion.

Why read this, you may wonder, particularly if you’re in search of distraction and clever entertainment as you read your way through the summer? Read it because you’ll get to know a “whip smart” woman whose honesty will inspire you, read it because it will give you hope for the future and make you want to understand more about how we treat our incarcerated people of color. It may very well change your thinking.

Barbara Kingsolver, a well-known American author with many best sellers to her credit, has produced a remarkable “hybrid” book as I like to think of it that has been recently honored with a Pulitzer prize for fiction.

Demon Copperhead, a novel built on the story of Charles Dickens’ classic David Copperfield, tells us about a troubled and irrepressible young boy in Apppalachia who grows up in extreme poverty and neglect with a crippling addiction to opioids.

This boy called “Demon” narrates his own story and keeps you with him as you keep turning the pages to follow his misguided, sometimes comic, but always perilous adventures. His voice is compelling, funny, and tragic, and it’s a voice you will keep hearing in your head long after you close the book. It’s a brave writer who takes on a task like this; the risk of sculpting a novel on a classic work is that you may end up with stale and trite writing that only mimics the original author and lacks the soul of the one who created it.

Kingsolver has not gone in that direction. Her piecing together of Demon’s story is sharply innovative, unique, and fresh, and there are very few times when you wonder where the links to Dickens are, because those links are important and not important at the same time. You will understand what I mean when you read the book. She makes us fall in love with Demon and root for him to find his way out of the drug culture and into realizing his creative potential as a comic book artist.

This “hybrid” book blends two separate (fictional) stories set a long time apart historically and reminds us of the universality of certain well-loved storylines. I’m thinking of the journey of a neglected and forgotten boy toward taking charge of his life as a “hero’s journey” of sorts, a tale that takes the hero through many challenges and life lessons, even to the fringe of the Underworld, the dark land of death, before he discovers his true calling, his personhood, and understands that he will survive.

Demon Copperhead, like The Worst Thing We’ve Ever Done, is about injustice and humanity, courage and perseverance, and about survival, and in the reading we’re reminded of the remarkable gifts of writers who take different kinds of risks to craft the important story we all need to hear. I am grateful for the gifts of these writers as I’m grateful for my own propensity to weave stories and create new worlds for my readers to explore. It’s hard, hard work, and the rewards are both deep and life changing.

Bows of gratitude!

May you have joy in reading this summer and beyond,

Mag

P.S.

Glasses photo on my blog by Sincerely Media on Unsplash