#also. I did NOT expect to for the machine herald to be this terrifying. loved it.

[beartes22]

And you know what? I stand behind Jayce Talis, my cancelled man for that last chapter.

Super angry at arc 3 of arcane btw. They rushed to close everything up and it shows

[yeet-imma-skeet]

The Sky Has Fallen

(Based in @starr-fall-knight-rise 's unique universe and part 2 to The Sky is Falling)

(Part 1: https://yeet-imma-skeet.tumblr.com/post/613232997621202944/the-sky-is-falling)

Quiet.

Unbearable, suffocating silence.

The guard hated that the most about their long journey.

A month had passed by since their launch into the unknown. Long ago had they past the sight of their plentiful solar system rich in mineral asteroids and beautiful planets. Away from their warm and loving star. Far, far away from their once vibrant home...

The further they went, the more sorrow they felt. To combat their grieving, they had made plans together for the very first time in years, finding their rhythm with each other once again. They had talked about memories both new and old while working with whatever they could. The Sea Prince monitored and maintained the dolmier quaster, trying to fix their broken navigation rig hit by a stray asteroid. The Sky Prince was studying medical files in the dolmier, a first for both the Sea Prince and the guard, as he found it necessary if one of them were to be hurt. A helpful floating orb of data flew between them, projecting screens of information. It was a rare piece of tech yet a welcome one in their dolmier. It acted rather strange for a machine yet it got the job done.

The guard, a newly anointed Vigil in fact, took her job seriously as she scanned the space outside the dolmier. But she never could expected that the wide expanse of space looked unbelievably beautiful, terrifying for sure but containing endless wonder.

Her gaze was always turned to the ground on their planet Farris. Stay in her place. Bow to the powerful. Serve their whims. Train endlessly where she lacked. Run faster and climb farther. Tear her body down to build it up again. She didn’t mind it if it was all to see her friends every now and then. Even if it was every few years at urgent meetings where she wasn’t allowed to speak. She didn’t mind, she really didn’t...

Plink! Her arials shot open, tilting everywhich way.

“Your highnesses?”

A muffled voice yelled from another room, “One, you don’t have to call us that! Two, what?”

“Did you happen to drop something?”

“No. Wace did you?”

The Sea Prince poked his head out from a doorway, “No.”

Galia narrowed her eyes as her hackles rose, “Get to the control room and lock the doors.”

“What—“

“Quiet. Go.”

A pensive pause hung in the air until they wordlessly hurried away. The guard watched them go, reaching for a long unused sense within her. She couldn’t let them see her as the weapon she was trained to be. They would be horrified, they would hate her as her old littermate Prince Kial did when he witnessed her work. It’s best not to expose them to too much bloodshed. Not after the tragedy a month ago.

She spread her arials as far as they could and went into a hunting crouch. Her footsteps didn't make a sound, different from the usual clicking of claws. Speaking of claws, she flexed her hands, feeling sharp three inch long claws erupted from her fingertips. She prowled into a rounded corridor as her arials twisted everywhich way to catch a sound.

Thunk.

She darted into the halls, running off walls to avoid slowing down. Her arials picked up a suspicious noise in the loading bay. There was no way in hell that the dolmier made the noise. It sounded disturbingly organic.

The guard slid to a quiet stop before she krept to the entrance of the bay. Her body tensed like a spring as her eyes sharpened into an uncomfortable focus. Her mane and tuft of hair on her tail raised, hackled at her hunting mode. The oval door slipped open at her silent command, the guard poised for action in front of the dimly lit room.

Something shuffled behind a few crates. Her eyes locked onto the sound as she prowled into the shadows of towering stacked crates. She heard rapid breathing and felt subtle vibrations from the floor. Though her hearts hammered against her chest, her mind stayed focused on the target. It silenced, stopping its breathing to her arials.

She sprung. An unearthly screech teared through the air, making her head ring to the unexpected sound. But luckily she was trained for this. Her claws dug into wriggling flesh as she raked down the creature with her hind legs. Bodily fluids spilt and the creature screeched louder. The body thrashed as the guard hung on, being hit on all sides by the floor and falling crates. She hissed as it bit her tail, opening her hidden jaws for payback. With stabbing pain, her tail constricted around what seemed to be legs while she slammed the rest onto the ground. The creature stopped, dazed as she chomped down. The vile taste of its blood made her gag, almost making her rear back in disgust. It screeched with more desperation, trying to buck off its attacker. A limb flew back, cutting across her face as she lost sight in her left eye. She roared in muffled pain, doing everything she could to pin down its body. As much as she hated it, her jaws clamped down harder as she swiftly tugged up. The snap of its spine heralded blissful silence. She thought it ironic that she hated the silence a moment ago.

The guard quickly sprang away, spitting out its horrible taste and comedically trying to wipe it off with her hands. Bad idea.

"Oh my goddess, I made it worse!" She spat, realizing her hands were also covered in green blood. Wait, green?

Her mind exploded with fear, making her back away from the dead creature even more. She tried hacking out the taste in her mouth harder until her throat burned. Horrified still, the guard wiped away as much blood as she could with panicked hands.

No! An infected! How is it here?!

She commanded for brighter lights before her hearts dropped to her tail, paralyzing her in horror. The mangled body of a infected Farrisan laid on the metallic floor, lying still in green puddles of blood. Jagged lines of black carved through their white skin, making the flesh bulbous and rotten. Their mane was pure black, unusual for them as they were purely a Sky Dweller. Lastly, its death opened eyes was a glazed putrid green.

Her legs weakened as she slumped to the ground in shock. The disease that the dead body had decimated their planet, killing ninety percent of those who were infected after they turned into mindless abominations. They spreaded it by wandering around and attacking anyone, infecting others with their bodily fluids that she just injested a moment ago. Her tail, though bitten, didn’t bleed because of Farrisan biology but still proved to be a certain wound infested with its saliva. Her claws retracted as she stared at her stained hands, unbelieving at her mistake.

“GALIA!”

Her head snapped up, arials picking up a violent scuffle in the dolmier. It came from the control room.

She launched herself out of the bay, claws digging into the metal floor like butter as she pushed for speed. A horribly familiar screech sounded along with panicked yelling. No! Her legs felt like they were on fire as did her lungs when she sped through the corridors. Her eyes only saw tunnel vision when she burst into the room. A purely blackened Farrisan stood over the still bodies of her friends, a silver trident in its back.

All she saw was red. With a battle cry of rage she attacked. She slashed at the body with everything she had, having no room in her mind for finesse or thoughts of training. Even if she was going to become one of them, she was taking it down with her! The guard kept clawing, slashing, and biting as the infected fell dead in her hands. Blood trickled down her chin before she noticed she was mangling something long dead. Its face was undefinable as was the rest of the torn body covered in deep cuts but she didn’t care. Not when her only two companions left in the world were dead.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” She cried, “It’s all my fault!”

Her arials shook as the ground seemed to sway under her feet. She stumbled to their bodies, falling to her knees once again in shock. A sorrowful cry built its way up into her chest as she keened. Their once joyful faces would never look at her again. She would never hear their voices laugh and talk.

Gasp. Her arials perked up at the sound. Another slow gasp came from them. Placing her shaking hands on their chests, she felt the undeniable beatings of their hearts. It was slow yet strong. They were still breathing! Thank Matradais!

The orb of info that hung around the pair hovered near from its hiding spot under the deck, projecting an image of stasis pods within the medical bay nearby. She got the idea, heaving the Sky Prince into her arms. Deep lacerations cut through his abdomen, bleeding pale blue blood. It normally wouldn’t have bled if he was awake but she had no time to wake him. The guard ignored the dripping down her fingers as she stumbled into the medical bay. The helpful orb flew to an empty clear cylinder surrounded in metal pipes and panels. Following its direction, she gently set her charge inside the cylinder through its sliding door. With a quiet click and a whisper of escaping gas, it sealed him inside as an unknown liquid poured into the capsule. She watched the tall cyclinder fill with anxiety, uncertain yet hoping. The orb nudged her lightly towards the door, showing an image of an arrow towards another stasis pod.

She rushed out of the room, bringing back the Sea Prince over her shoulder. He was stupidly heavy, almost twice her size but it didn’t stop her from dragging him into the other glasslike cylinder. Liquid filled his container too as she motioned for the orb to approach her.

“Vitals?”

It projected a summary of their injuries and, surpringly, her own. Aleyo by far had the worse injuries out of all of them. His floating form inside the pod looked just as bad as it did on his information. His tail had chunks bitten off as his cuts ran along his abdomen. Wace had less damage, having slashes down his arms and chest and nothing more. Her own wounds just consisted of her tail being bitten and her left eye nonexistent. Her hand shot up to her face as a searing fire flared where her eye used to be as did her tail. Her body allowed her to bleed as the threat was now gone, leaving her in pain and slumped to the floor. With a shocked whir of surprise, the orb zoomed around the room, somehow bringing bandages, string, and needles to her side.

She rasped, “Th-thanks.”

The room was starting to spin as the guard smelt her own blood. She stayed conscious enough to stitch herself up with some prompting from the orb, hissing with every stab to her flesh. Done with her tail, she had to know the rest of her charges damage. She read down the statistics with a critical eye, wrapping her now missing one with bandages.

Both had signs that the infecting disease was running through their systems but for her...

“I’m immune?!”

The orb bobbed in place, it’s own equivalent of nodding. Her hearts hammered inside her chest. She was one of the few, one of less than ten thousand Farrisans to be immune to the harmful affects of the disease.

On its projected screen it asked, “My programming allows for bioengineering research. May I use a blood sample from you to calculate a cure? It will take approximately 673 cycles to calculate.”

Her eye widened, her gaze solely on that one miracle word, “I don’t care how long. Take it!”

————————————

A beautiful swirl of purples, greens, and blues made up the impressively large nebulae outside the UNSC Esperanca. The spaceship seemed to be the size of an atom compared to its grand size. It would make any human feel small and inconsequential compared to its majesty. Which is why they decided to explore it, or more accurately, why the acting commander Adam Vir wanted to explore it but couldn’t personally because he was up to hijinks.

Captain Silva sighed and thought to himself these thoughts. Commander Vir always seemed to be somewhere doing God-knows-what wherever he went. Silva admitted that he was the most qualified to lead space exploration but still felt a bit of anxiety when he remembered Vir lead a fleet. He leaned back in his captain’s chair, gazing around him at the holograms of his ship’s surroundings. The stately bustling of footsteps and low conversations made the atmosphere all the more calming under the stars. A few heavier steps approached him, reminding him of the few Drev he hired on board.

“Any problems, Latinar?” He gruffly asked.

The four armed alien held a tablet within a hand, his beak-like snout turned down to inspect it. The dull silver carapace of his reflected the nebulae above, smattering him with glittering color. It was quite the relaxing light show if it wasn’t for the suspicious look on his face.

Latibar spoke, “We’re receiving an unknown signal from inside that nebula.”

“A signal?” The rest of the main deck started to notice the change in the air.

The gray Drev tapped a few times on his tablet, sending something to the room, “It was a bit hard to understand what it was until Mathan helped smooth it out. You might want to listen hard, though.”

He tapped once more before an audio file played aloud, silencing any conversation. It first started as a fluctuating hum, raising in pitch then lowering rapidly at random times. Some clicks and chittering sounded in some intervals as did some guttural hisses. It lasted for about three solid minutes, never stopping and reminding the humans of a squirrel cat hybrid in distress. At the last chitter, the room sat quiet, unsure of what they just heard.

“What... was that?”

“A message along with an address.”

A static image hung in the air, showing stars and planets connected to each other with lines but labeled with unknown text.

Captain Silva sat up in his seat, scrutinizing the picture, “Lieutenant Crimm?”

A young man at a control panel stared for a moment before typing away as his desk, numbers and letter passing through his screen until he announced, “Its three days away, sir.”

The Drev looked between their locked eyes in confusion, “What is going on?”

Silva combed a hand through his graying hair before rubbing his face, heaving a strained sigh, “Commader Vir ordered all ships to investigate strange phenomena and we fucking found one.”

“Do we reroute our course, sir?”

He stood up with shoulders squared and eyes accepting, surprising Latinar at his unusual behavior. Silva normally bemoaned at the commander’s command, following through yes, but with a grumbling attitude. It’s like he flipped a switch, turning into a focused human leader instead of a grouchy manager of a business. This is what he looked for. To see one of the highest standing humans finally find a challenge.

Captain Silva wolfishly grinned, “Set course for that location. Commander Vir can’t hog all the glory!”

(Part 3: https://yeet-imma-skeet.tumblr.com/post/615142949001527296/where-is-the-sky)

[preservationandruin]

Rhythm of War Liveblog, Part 1

Next Post

Let’s DO this, gang! I’m extremely excited for this book and to see what happens in it, so buckle up and get ready for a wild ride with me, because I can genuinely say that I have no idea what’s going to happen in this one. Oathbringer left us at what felt like a solid end of act one (initial villains defeated, main villain has been seen, characters have had a solid victory) so I’m not sure how this one will go. 

Also, I just want to say before I go into the actual liveblog, I love the fact that Sanderson opens the book with his credits and includes crediting someone who acted as expert on Dissociative Identity Disorder for helping write Shallan. I know that in the past I wasn’t particularly articulate or aware of Shallan as a character with DID while writing my liveblogs, and I’m going to attempt to be better about that going forward. 

That said, let’s get going! I geek out about the front materials as always, and then we get our Obligatory Feast Flashback as Navani deserves better and I grow blisteringly furious with Gavilar for small things before we even hit the real reasons to be furious with Gavilar Kholin.  Content warning: discussion of abuse in the context of a relationship

We open with a beautiful color map of Roshar, which I always love seeing--love this weird-ass supercontinent, gang--and then a diagram of Urithiru, including a sense of how far it extends underground that honestly looks like a picture of how much of an iceberg is underwater. I recognize parts of this--we may have had this diagram before--but I didn’t pick up on exactly how massive the place was. The chasmfiend barely reaching the fourth floor sketched in conveys a mind-blowing sense of scale. Also, nice to have a diagram of which gate goes where and a full list of where they go; Panatham, Rall Elorim, Shinovar, Akinah, Azimir, Thaylen City, Narak, Kholinar (F in the chat for Kholinar, honestly), Vedenar, and Kueth. 

There’s another diagram of essentially a series of lifts within Urithiru, and a cross-section of the atrium that again does wonders for a sense of scale--and then we have our obligatory Gavilar’s Death Flashback! This time, it’s Navani, who is stuck figuring out where, logistically, to put the drums we see the Parshendi playing in every other feast flashback. Apparently, Navani bullied Amaram into sharing his grain stores with everyone, and if you thought Amaram being dead would mean I stopped dunking on Amaram, you clearly don’t know how petty I can be. 

Okay, so let me get this straight. Gavilar invited one of the world’s most prominent artifabrians--someone in Navani’s field, or at least adjacent to it--to Kholinar, didn’t tell her, and then saddled her with organizing his entire feast? Navani. Navani, honey. May I recommend a service to you. 

So Navani is the one who had to organize the ENTIRE feast, because Aesudan wasn’t doing anything, Dalinar was drinking, and Gavilar was off being cryptic with Amaram and the fucking Sons of Honor or whatever the Pretentious Asshole Men’s Club call themselves. And Navani is there trying to do the work of an entire administration, feeling horrible imposter’s syndrome both about her passions and about her job. Also, Navani sees Dalinar and is like. Actually I need to go get some air right now immediately. 

I do like the flip-side of the book one “Dalinar sees Navani at a feast and immediately goes deer-in-the-headlights terrified”, though, although I’m so glad Navani waited for him to sober up and get his shit together before actually tapping that. 

Okay, Navani finds Gavilar and someone talking about Braize. The specific quote is “Being able to bring them back and forth from Braize doesn’t mean anything, It’s too close to be a relevant distance.” They’re speaking about a box that allows travel and wait, Gavilar is having this meeting in Navani’s Study???? THROW. THE ENTIRE. MAN. IN. THE. GARBAGE. PUT HIM IN THE TRASH. 

Anyway, he’s meeting with a tall Makabaki man with a birthmark on his cheek and a short Vorin man with a round face and a small nose; they don’t have home kingdoms named, so I’m actually willing to bet they might not be Rosharan at all. Certainly they’re speaking about worldhopping, and outside of the Rosharan system given that Braize is too close a distance to be relevant. They’re speaking over inverted gems, the ones that have been charged with voidlight and are glowing violet darknesses.  OH I WAS WRONG, THEY’RE NOT WORLDHOPPERS AFTER ALL. One mentions that “another of us is here tonight, I spotted her handiwork earlier” and the Vorin man snaps at the Makabaki, who he calls Nale. 

Alright, how many Heralds are in this goddamn building tonight?? It’s at least four. 

Okay, returning to my earlier comment about throwing the entire man in the garbage, Navani accuses Gavilar of not treating her like a person and instead like a machine and internally mentions that he’s never hurt her, but there have been “words. Comments. Threats.” 

He goes on to tell Navani to tell Jasnah to take Amaram back because “Few other suitors will consider her; I’ll likely need to pay half the kingdom to get rid of the girl if she denies Meridas again.” He also refers to her as Navani’s daughter, not their fucking child. I’m going to kill this man! Navani points out that she doesn’t like Amaram and Jasnah can do better, which she’s 100% right about as always. 

Honestly, if Jasnah married Amaram, Amaram would be dead. He would have died on the wedding night. She would have killed him and I support her wholeheartedly. Actually, it would have solved a lot of problems. Anyway I don’t know why I expected any better than this from a man who was friends with Amaram. 

Navani threatens Gavilar’s legacy by pointing out that she has control of how he’s seen in the future, pointing out that his children, Dalinar, and his nephews still love him because they don’t know who he really is, and she could change that--and then he flat-up starts negging her. 

Navani ends up so furious that she draws in the glyphs for Death, Gift, Death, in the shapes of Gavilar’s tower/sword heraldry. She then points out that the next day he’ll be giving her gifts, that he’s not like this to anyone else, just to her--and she blames herself, but that’s not right. 

This is abuse. That is textbook cycle of abuse. The incident of abuse is followed by a period of appeasement so that the abuse victim doesn’t leave and thinks things can be better. Navani says that Gavilar is kind to the others, but if he genuinely cared about his children and brother, he wouldn’t speak about them like that even in anger. He’s been consumed with his own ego. 

And then he dies. Navani is stunned, but she doesn’t grieve him, and decides to be the better person, giving him his legacy and pretending for the sake of everyone else that he wasn’t a monster. 

“Gavilar had left his life as he’d lived it: with grand drama that afterward required Navani to pick up the pieces.” 

Throw the whole man away. He doesn’t deserve that fucking legacy. No honor for abusers.

[cover2covermom]

Happy #BlackHistoryMonth bookworms!

Today I am going to share with you a list of books I recommend to read in the month of February in honor of Black History Month.   Actually, these books are recommended throughout the entire year, BUT especially in February…

This is by no means an exhaustive list of the best books to read during Black History Month.  All the books included in this list are books that I have personally read, and I will be updating this post as I read more books that deserve a spot on this list.

I would also like to mention that I am featuring books that highlight historical events, contributions, and experiences of black people throughout U.S. history.

» March: Book One, March: Book Two, & March: Book Tree by John Lewis

Congressman John Lewis (GA-5) is an American icon, one of the key figures of the civil rights movement. His commitment to justice and nonviolence has taken him from an Alabama sharecropper’s farm to the halls of Congress, from a segregated schoolroom to the 1963 March on Washington, and from receiving beatings from state troopers to receiving the Medal of Freedom from the first African-American president.

Now, to share his remarkable story with new generations, Lewis presents March, a graphic novel trilogy, in collaboration with co-writer Andrew Aydin and New York Times best-selling artist Nate Powell (winner of the Eisner Award and LA Times Book Prize finalist for Swallow Me Whole).

March is a vivid first-hand account of John Lewis’ lifelong struggle for civil and human rights, meditating in the modern age on the distance traveled since the days of Jim Crow and segregation. Rooted in Lewis’ personal story, it also reflects on the highs and lows of the broader civil rights movement.

Book One spans John Lewis’ youth in rural Alabama, his life-changing meeting with Martin Luther King, Jr., the birth of the Nashville Student Movement, and their battle to tear down segregation through nonviolent lunch counter sit-ins, building to a stunning climax on the steps of City Hall.

Many years ago, John Lewis and other student activists drew inspiration from the 1950s comic book “Martin Luther King and the Montgomery Story.” Now, his own comics bring those days to life for a new audience, testifying to a movement whose echoes will be heard for generations.

» March Forward, Girl: From Young Warrior to Little Rock Nine by Melba Pattillo Beals

From the legendary civil rights activist and author of the million-copy selling Warriors Don’t Cry comes an ardent and profound childhood memoir of growing up while facing adversity in the Jim Crow South.

Long before she was one of the Little Rock Nine, Melba Pattillo Beals was a warrior. Frustrated by the laws that kept African-Americans separate but very much unequal to whites, she had questions. Why couldn’t she drink from a “whites only” fountain? Why couldn’t she feel safe beyond home—or even within the walls of church?  Adults all told her: Hold your tongue. Be patient. Know your place. But Beals had the heart of a fighter—and the knowledge that her true place was a free one.

Combined with emotive drawings and photos, this memoir paints a vivid picture of Beals’ powerful early journey on the road to becoming a champion for equal rights, an acclaimed journalist, a best-selling author, and the recipient of this country’s highest recognition, the Congressional Gold Medal.

» Loving Vs. Virginia: A Documentary Novel of the Landmark Civil Rights Case by Patricia Hruby Powell (Illustrated by Shadra Strickland)

From acclaimed author Patricia Hruby Powell comes the story of a landmark civil rights case, told in spare and gorgeous verse. In 1955, in Caroline County, Virginia, amidst segregation and prejudice, injustice and cruelty, two teenagers fell in love. Their life together broke the law, but their determination would change it. Richard and Mildred Loving were at the heart of a Supreme Court case that legalized marriage between races, and a story of the devoted couple who faced discrimination, fought it, and won. 

» Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson

Jacqueline Woodson, one of today’s finest writers, tells the moving story of her childhood in mesmerizing verse.

Raised in South Carolina and New York, Woodson always felt halfway home in each place. In vivid poems, she shares what it was like to grow up as an African American in the 1960s and 1970s, living with the remnants of Jim Crow and her growing awareness of the Civil Rights movement. Touching and powerful, each poem is both accessible and emotionally charged, each line a glimpse into a child’s soul as she searches for her place in the world. Woodson’s eloquent poetry also reflects the joy of finding her voice through writing stories, despite the fact that she struggled with reading as a child. Her love of stories inspired her and stayed with her, creating the first sparks of the gifted writer she was to become.

» Hidden Figures by Margot Lee Shetterly

The uplifting, amazing true story—a New York Times bestseller

This edition of Margot Lee Shetterly’s acclaimed book is perfect for young readers. It is the powerful story of four African-American female mathematicians at NASA who helped achieve some of the greatest moments in our space program. Now a major motion picture starring Taraji P. Henson, Octavia Spencer, Janelle Monae, Kirsten Dunst, and Kevin Costner.

Before John Glenn orbited the earth, or Neil Armstrong walked on the moon, a group of dedicated female mathematicians known as “human computers” used pencils, slide rules, and adding machines to calculate the numbers that would launch rockets, and astronauts, into space.

This book brings to life the stories of Dorothy Vaughan, Mary Jackson, Katherine Johnson, and Christine Darden, who lived through the Civil Rights era, the Space Race, the Cold War, and the movement for gender equality, and whose work forever changed the face of NASA and the country.

» Little Leaders: Bold Women in Black History by Vashti Harrison

Featuring forty trailblazing black women in American history, Little Leaders educates and inspires as it relates true stories of breaking boundaries and achieving beyond expectations. Illuminating text paired with irresistible illustrations bring to life both iconic and lesser-known female figures of Black history such as abolitionist Sojourner Truth, pilot Bessie Coleman, chemist Alice Ball, politician Shirley Chisholm, mathematician Katherine Johnson, poet Maya Angelou, and filmmaker Julie Dash. Among these biographies, readers will find heroes, role models, and everyday women who did extraordinary things – bold women whose actions and beliefs contributed to making the world better for generations of girls and women to come. Whether they were putting pen to paper, soaring through the air or speaking up for the rights of others, the women profiled in these pages were all taking a stand against a world that didn’t always accept them. The leaders in this book may be little, but they all did something big and amazing, inspiring generations to come.

» Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi

A novel of breathtaking sweep and emotional power that traces three hundred years in Ghana and along the way also becomes a truly great American novel. Extraordinary for its exquisite language, its implacable sorrow, its soaring beauty, and for its monumental portrait of the forces that shape families and nations, Homegoing heralds the arrival of a major new voice in contemporary fiction.

Two half-sisters, Effia and Esi, are born into different villages in eighteenth-century Ghana. Effia is married off to an Englishman and lives in comfort in the palatial rooms of Cape Coast Castle. Unbeknownst to Effia, her sister, Esi, is imprisoned beneath her in the castle’s dungeons, sold with thousands of others into the Gold Coast’s booming slave trade, and shipped off to America, where her children and grandchildren will be raised in slavery. One thread of Homegoing follows Effia’s descendants through centuries of warfare in Ghana, as the Fante and Asante nations wrestle with the slave trade and British colonization. The other thread follows Esi and her children into America. From the plantations of the South to the Civil War and the Great Migration, from the coal mines of Pratt City, Alabama, to the jazz clubs and dope houses of twentieth-century Harlem, right up through the present day, Homegoing makes history visceral, and captures, with singular and stunning immediacy, how the memory of captivity came to be inscribed in the soul of a nation.

Generation after generation, Yaa Gyasi’s magisterial first novel sets the fate of the individual against the obliterating movements of time, delivering unforgettable characters whose lives were shaped by historical forces beyond their control. Homegoing is a tremendous reading experience, not to be missed, by an astonishingly gifted young writer.

» The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas

Sixteen-year-old Starr lives in two worlds: the poor neighborhood where she was born and raised and her posh high school in the suburbs. The uneasy balance between them is shattered when Starr is the only witness to the fatal shooting of her unarmed best friend, Khalil, by a police officer. Now what Starr says could destroy her community. It could also get her killed.

» The Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead

Cora is a slave on a cotton plantation in Georgia. Life is hellish for all the slaves but especially bad for Cora; an outcast even among her fellow Africans, she is coming into womanhood—where even greater pain awaits. When Caesar, a recent arrival from Virginia, tells her about the Underground Railroad, they decide to take a terrifying risk and escape. Matters do not go as planned and, though they manage to find a station and head north, they are being hunted.

In Whitehead’s ingenious conception, the Underground Railroad is no mere metaphor—engineers and conductors operate a secret network of tracks and tunnels beneath the Southern soil. Cora and Caesar’s first stop is South Carolina, in a city that initially seems like a haven—but the city’s placid surface masks an insidious scheme designed for its black denizens. Even worse: Ridgeway, the relentless slave catcher, is close on their heels. Forced to flee again, Cora embarks on a harrowing flight, state by state, seeking true freedom.

As Whitehead brilliantly re-creates the unique terrors for black people in the pre-Civil War era, his narrative seamlessly weaves the saga of America from the brutal importation of Africans to the unfulfilled promises of the present day. The Underground Railroad is at once a kinetic adventure tale of one woman’s ferocious will to escape the horrors of bondage and a shattering, powerful meditation on the history we all share.

» The Color Purple by Alice Walker

The Color Purple is a classic. With over a million copies sold in the UK alone, it is hailed as one of the all-time ‘greats’ of literature, inspiring generations of readers.

Set in the deep American South between the wars, it is the tale of Celie, a young black girl born into poverty and segregation. Raped repeatedly by the man she calls ‘father’, she has two children taken away from her, is separated from her beloved sister Nettie and is trapped into an ugly marriage. But then she meets the glamorous Shug Avery, singer and magic-maker – a woman who has taken charge of her own destiny. Gradually, Celie discovers the power and joy of her own spirit, freeing her from her past and reuniting her with those she loves.

» Long Way Down by Jason Reynolds

1 hour, 43 minutes

An ode to Put the Damn Guns Down, this is New York Times bestseller Jason Reynolds’s fiercely stunning novel that takes place in sixty potent seconds—the time it takes a kid to decide whether or not he’s going to murder the guy who killed his brother.

A cannon. A strap. A piece. A biscuit. A burner. A heater. A chopper. A gat. A hammer A tool for RULE

Or, you can call it a gun. That’s what fifteen-year-old Will has shoved in the back waistband of his jeans. See, his brother Shawn was just murdered. And Will knows the rules. No crying. No snitching. Revenge. That’s where Will’s now heading, with that gun shoved in the back waistband of his jeans, the gun that was his brother’s gun. He gets on the elevator, seventh floor, stoked. He knows who he’s after. Or does he? As the elevator stops on the sixth floor, on comes Buck. Buck, Will finds out, is who gave Shawn the gun before Will took the gun. Buck tells Will to check that the gun is even loaded. And that’s when Will sees that one bullet is missing. And the only one who could have fired Shawn’s gun was Shawn. Huh. Will didn’t know that Shawn had ever actually USED his gun. Bigger huh. BUCK IS DEAD. But Buck’s in the elevator? Just as Will’s trying to think this through, the door to the next floor opens. A teenage girl gets on, waves away the smoke from Dead Buck’s cigarette. Will doesn’t know her, but she knew him. Knew. When they were eight. And stray bullets had cut through the playground, and Will had tried to cover her, but she was hit anyway, and so what she wants to know, on that fifth floor elevator stop, is, what if Will, Will with the gun shoved in the back waistband of his jeans, MISSES.

And so it goes, the whole long way down, as the elevator stops on each floor, and at each stop someone connected to his brother gets on to give Will a piece to a bigger story than the one he thinks he knows. A story that might never know an END…if WILL gets off that elevator.

Told in short, fierce staccato narrative verse, Long Way Down is a fast and furious, dazzlingly brilliant look at teenage gun violence, as could only be told by Jason Reynolds.

» Betty Before X by Ilyasah Shabazz

A powerful middle-grade novel about the childhood activism of Betty Shabazz, Malcolm X’s wife, written by their daughter.

In Detroit, 1945, eleven-year-old Betty’s house doesn’t quite feel like home. She believes her mother loves her, but she can’t shake the feeling that her mother doesn’t want her. Church helps those worries fade, if only for a little while. The singing, the preaching, the speeches from guest activists like Paul Robeson and Thurgood Marshall stir African Americans in her community to stand up for their rights. Betty quickly finds confidence and purpose in volunteering for the Housewives League, an organization that supports black-owned businesses. Soon, the American civil rights icon we now know as Dr. Betty Shabazz is born.

Collaborating with novelist Renée Watson, Ilyasah Shabazz illuminates four poignant years in her mother’s childhood, painting a beautiful and inspiring portrait of a girl overcoming the challenges of self-acceptance and belonging that will resonate with young readers today.

» Stella by Starlight by Sharon M. Draper

When the Ku Klux Klan’s unwelcome reappearance rattles Stella’s segregated southern town, bravery battles prejudice in this Depression-era tour de force from Sharon Draper, the New York Times bestselling author of Out of My Mind.

Stella lives in the segregated South; in Bumblebee, North Carolina, to be exact about it. Some stores she can go into. Some stores she can’t. Some folks are right pleasant. Others are a lot less so. To Stella, it sort of evens out, and heck, the Klan hasn’t bothered them for years. But one late night, later than she should ever be up, much less wandering around outside, Stella and her little brother see something they’re never supposed to see, something that is the first flicker of change to come, unwelcome change by any stretch of the imagination. As Stella’s community – her world – is upended, she decides to fight fire with fire. And she learns that ashes don’t necessarily signify an end.

Do you have any book recommendations to read during #BlackHistoryMonth?

Have you read any of the books on this list?  If so, what did you think?

Comment below & let me know 🙂

  Book Recs: #Books to Read for #BlackHistoryMonth #BookBlog #BookBlogger #Reading #Bookworm #AmReading Happy #BlackHistoryMonth bookworms! Today I am going to share with you a list of books I recommend to read in the month of February in honor of…