Angel Of Greenwood

Angel Of Greenwood

YA historical fiction
"At first he thought the sight was his imagination. The orange
glow pulsing through his usually peaceful neighborhood. Smoke dancing
against the fiery backdrop, twirling like an angry angel defected..."
The Tulsa Race Massacre of 1921 is a chapter of American history
your high school textbook probably saw fit to omit. By 1921 Greenwood
in Tulsa, Oklahoma was one of the nation's most prosperous Black
districts, a place where thriving businesses and close knit community
insulated residents from much of the racial viciousness of an outside
world where the KKK was rising in power and going mainstream. Many
racist whites were enraged by its prosperity.
May 30 that year a white woman alone on an elevator with a Black
man screamed. Her scream served as a call to arms. A mob of whites
looted and torched Greenwood in the wee hours of June 1 when most
residents were asleep. Hundreds of people were killed. Close to a
thousand were injured. Greenwood was reduced to ashes.
In Angel Of Greenwood Randi Pink brings this complex tragedy to
life for younger readers through one of the simplest and most engaging
of YA story lines--the relationship of an unlikely girl.
Angel is a devout Christian having to cope with a heavy
impending loss. Her father is dying. She lives to serve others. One
day she goes to school late after tending to a fussy baby so its
mother can get some sleep. Classmates pretty much ignore her,
considering her to be a goodie two shoes.
Isaiah had lost his father in World War I. He's a deep reader,
thinker, and poet who must keep those facets of himself a secret. His
best friend, Muggy, the son of a wealthy man who cheats in his
business dealings and on his wife, is a bully.
But one day in church Isaiah sees Angel in a whole different
light. Can he win her trust without Muggy interfering?
Angel Of Greenwood is a great book to share and discuss with the
teens in your life. In fact it's purrrfect for mother-daughter book
clubs.
On a purrrsonal note, I hope that you had a great weekend. I
certainly did. At breakfast Eugene announced that he was going to
camp. I packed quickly, including in my backpack a really hefty
antiracist tome, Four Hundred Souls, edited by Ibram X. Kendi, which
I'd procrastinated reading for its size. We took a winding route,
stopping at yard sales. We saw a deer hiding in the woods. At camp I
spent much of the day reading. The book is composed of
chronologically ordered essays and poems by eighty writers covering
1619 to 2019 in terms of Black Hostory. I was gratified to see that I
was familiar with a lot of the content and had read books by a bunch
of the authors. Maybe because of all the race related books I've
reviewed for this blog in the almost 10 years (August 10 is the
anniversary) I've been keeping it up--443 to be exact. Eugene grilled
hot dogs for supper. We watched another of those movies in the
subgenre I call guys feel that getting laid (their words) is a
requirement for high school graduation. The next morning we motored
home with a stop in Winterport to wish his mother a happy birthday.
Today I'm supposed to be involved in an outdoor painting project. But
Mother Nature may very effectively veto it. And I'm still reading the
same book. (Jules)
My hoomans is home safe. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to Eugene. Happy birthday wishes to
Arlene Hathaway.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


Sent from my iPod