Tuesday, May 17, 2022

Star Child

Star Child

YA nonfiction
Ibi Zoboi doesn't conform to any one genre. Basically she nails
any she sets her mind to. In Star Child: A Biographical Constellation
of Octavia Estelle Butler she reveals her true shape shifter nature,
offering up a masterpiece that can't be shrunk into any known category.
Zoboi had a very personal reason for writing this book. Butler,
an author of visionary science fiction, considered by many to be the
mother of Afrofuturism, was the biggest influence on her life and
work. Zoboi describes Butler as "the author whose work, presence, and
mentorship gave me my first set of wings."
Star Child covers Butler's life from birth through adulthood.
Very little of the narrative consists of what the Dragnet cop stars
would consider "just the facts, Ma'am." Most of it is conveyed by
three much more interesting strands.
The largest is Zoboi's poetry. It blends the singularty of
Butler's life with the influence of the times she was born into. Her
mother worked as a domestic. A poem entitled Memory II begins with:
"Her mother's big hand holds hers,
As her little legs struggle to keep up with her mother's long gait.
When they reach the big house, the windows shine.
Mother looks down at her, hoping this will not be her daughter's fate."
My favorite poem is First Story. Butler grew up in a very
strictly religious family. Dancing, wearing makeup, and listening to
music other than hymns were considered sins. But Butler took the
lessons of the Bible in a way that would have shocked fundamentalist
preachers.
"Hidden from the chaos of the world,
she learned the stories of Genesis and Revelation

and there, she discovered a universe
Of first creations, and magic, and

the battles, big and small,
of good and evil."
A second is paragraphs of Butler's own writing. They describe
experiences that, while singular, are highly relatable.
"By the time I was ten I was writing, and I carried a big notebook
around so that whenever I had some time I could write in it. That
way, I didn't have to be lonely. I usually had very few friends, and
I was lonely. But when I wrote I wasn't, which was probably a good
reason for my continuing to write as a young kid."
When the pandemic started and those of us not deemed essential
personnel were in lockdown didn't we strive to find activities that
helped us feel less alone? And I'm sure that those of us who are
older can relate to this:
"And a slightly different problem was that everything I read
that was intended for women seemed boring as hell--basically 'Finding
Mr. Right': marriage, family, and that's the end of that. I didn't
know how to write about women doing anything because while they were
waiting for Mr. Right,...they were just waiting to be done unto."
I remember getting this waiting for Prince Charming/Mr. Right
especially if he was Pastor Right vibe in undergard in the eighties.
We had car loads of women driving to the nearby seminar to bag what
was considered the apex of marital desirability. It was always open
season on future clergymen.
The third is the photographs: samples of her writing in her own
penmanship; a high school photo, probably for something school related
like yearbook; photos of Butler and Zoboi together, the pink notebook
she took everywhere for writing...
...Anyway if you're a fan of Butler or Zoboi of if you're a
science fiction affecianado who would like a new favorite author
you're gonna find Star Child to be a must read.
On a purrrsonal note, last Saturday I came up with what felt like a
brainstorm. I was planning on going on campus on Monday to join up
with Clean Sweep. So why not do a trial run to drop off and pick up
library books. What could go wrong did. I realized I'd forgotten my
mask right before the bus pulled up. Luckily the driver could give me
one. When I got to the library I realized it wasn't going to open for
an hour. So I'd be going back when the temps were supposed to be in
the low 90s. Even well I have troublr with temps in the 90s. Luckily
my friend Diane was working in the garden. She not only gave me a
ride home, but lent me $2.50 so I could buy 5 bottles of scented
(cotton candy, bubblegum) from the thrift shop which is now open
Saturdays again. I lay around and read the rest of the day. (Jules)
It was much too hot for cats! (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes to Diane and this year's Community Garden
crew.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway



Sent from my iPod

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