Josephine Baker's Last Dance

Josephine Baker's Last Dance by Sherry Jones
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Why read a fictional biography? Sometimes, there is no choice: biographies may be out of date, or nonexistent. When they are available, they may be too linear to capture more than the facts, just the facts, ma'am.

There are biographies of Josephine Baker, the "Black Pearl," if the reader wants to know who, what where, and when. I doubt there ever will be one that captures the wild energy, the passionate spirit, and the artistry that came together in this spectacular woman the way Sherry Jones has done. She has shown us the how and why, and filled in the spaces - the beauty and the ugliness, both - that underlay the public spectacle of the glittering international star.

The Josephine Baker who sailed to Paris in 1925 had already powered through enough personal suffering and systemic racism to flatten most people. But, with unlimited talent and drive, she escaped initial rejections in the United States ("too skinny and too dark") by landing a job that took her to the integrated world of Paris. There, her breakthrough abandon and energy in "La Danse de Sauvage," clad only in a skirt made of faux bananas, brought artistic acclaim and access to all she ever wished for: the extravagant lifestyle, a starring role at the Folies Bergere, a film career. She searched endlessly for love while hobnobbing with Colette, Gertrude Stein, Hemingway, and the rest of the expatriates.

Her dreams of Europe changed as Brownshirts and Nazis came to her shows and made their vicious intentions clear. A return to New York showed her that not even her fame could break through the racism, and she returned to Europe, disillusioned.

She continued to sing and dance and act the role as an international sensation, but used her position to work as a spy and pilot for the Resistance, facing mortal danger in the name of freedom. After the war, she shifted her focus to challenge racial discrimination wherever her career took her, despite personal heartaches and ill health. Back in America, she forced nighclubs to integrate if they wanted her to sing, she called attention to African-Americans on Death Row who were victims of racist justice, and she participated in very public and challenging actions with the NAACP.

The happiest day of her life, she said, was when she participated with Joan Baez and others, introducing Rev. Martin Luther King before he gave his speech, "I have a dream." Later, she created a Rainbow Tribe by adopting twelve children, demonstrating how beautiful a multi-ethnic world could be.

All of the episodes in this gritty and granular novel are set as her memories during her last performance, celebrating fifty years of stardom in Paris. The reader will come away breathless with admiration for the power and energy of Josephine Baker's life, and how she used her fame to better the world. Watching videos on YouTube is a pale introduction to this groundbreaking woman. The reader's imagination will be well-served by this stunning novel.

Five stars, because only five are available. 


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Goodbye and thank you

Not long after the previous post, my home was flooded. Housemate and I are back home now, and making progress on the house. I apologize for neglecting TeaReads all this time. I think it's best to say goodbye to my readers. There is still much work to be done at home, and I cannot give this blog the attention it deserves. Thank you for your kind attention, and good bye.
- - Moon Rani

Booking Through Thursday, 4.September

"PEER PRESSURE
I" was looking through books yesterday at the shops and saw all the Twilight books, which I know basically nothing about. What I do know is that I’m beginning to feel like I’m the *only* person who knows nothing about them.

"Despite being almost broke and trying to save money, I almost bought the expensive book (Australian book prices are often completely nutty) just because I felt the need to be ‘up’ on what everyone else was reading.

"Have you ever felt pressured to read something because ‘everyone else’ was reading it? Have you ever given in and read the book(s) in question or do you resist? If you are a reviewer, etc, do you feel it’s your duty to keep up on current trends?"

When I was in junior high school, all the girls were abuzz over the Little House books, by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I was one of the unpopular girls, so it was awhile before I even learned the name of the series. After giving it exactly one try, I found the books too tame and easy for my tastes, so I returned them to the library. Was that peer pressure, or was it curiosity?

That was the first time I jumped on the bandwagon. The second time was when I joined a social group and read reference after reference to the Dune series, by Frank Herbert, in the monthly newsletters. I wanted at least an idea of what everyone talked about, so I tried one. It was love at first sight. The first three books entertained me for hours. Again, I think it was curiosity, not peer pressure.

Nowadays, though, I tend to resist bandwagon jumping at all, in anything. Why? I don't know. Perhaps there is little attraction to being or doing what the crowd is or does; the Road Less Traveled, don'tcha know. I am somewhat curious about things that "everybody" likes, and about a great many other things too, but I am very selective, now.

My feline family

The smallest member of my feline family of three is Tucket. She and her sister, Lindy, will turn one year old at the autumnal equinox.
Tucket is a wobbler, like her sister. Unlike Lindy, Tucket has other problems, too. If there is such a thing as autism among cats, that may well be among her disabilities. She avoids eye contact, for example, and is adjusting, gradually, to being handled. It took about four months for her to allow Housemate to handle her. She seemed to find him overstimulating what with his beard and large (to her) teeth and hearty manner. But now Tucket loves Housemate, and makes frequent bids for his attention. When he comes home from work and relaxes on the sofa, Tucket puts on a show of strength, might and derring-do just for him. She thrashes her mousy, she runs, she tumbles, she leaps - - and she glances his way frequently to make sure he notices.
Tucket seemed to have found all sensory stimuli overpowering, but she is getting used to them over time. I felt that way when I was small, and still do, though not as much. We allow her to take things at her own pace, and that seems to be the right touch.
Lindy and Tucket have what we call mousies. They're covered in fake fur, with little, red, felt ears and little, pink, felt noses. They rattle. The kittens love these things. Tucket, in particular, loves hers so much that she puts them in her food bowl, and then, showing perfect logic, into the litter box. One morning I found that they had skinned a mousy and thrown its fur into the litterbox, leaving the plastic body on the floor like some barbaric warning to the other mousies. On another occasion, Tucket was so sure I had a mousy as we lay on the bed that she "watched" it fly into the air and come back down into my hand. The thing was...there was no mousy, just her vivid imagination as I mimed flipping the toy.
Tucket is fond of visiting things around the house. She can be found gazing at the glowing, blue numbers on Housemate's digital clock, patting the telephone or gazing at her buddy, the toilet plunger, as it stands in the corner. Whenever we can't find her, we look in the bathroom.
Tucket got a dollop of ice cream on Housemate's birthday this week. She lapped it up in the kitchen while we adjourned to another room. Minutes later, Tucket charged into the room where we were, hollering in her distinctive voice and shaking head briskly - - another victim of an ice cream headache, we figure.
Sometimes she's called Inspector Tucket because she watches everything and everyone intensely. She likes to look directly into the air vent in the bathroom and checks frequently to see if air is coming out. We always know when she's been doing that because she comes out blinking and dry-eyed. Housemate and I figure the Inspector is trying to solve The Case of the Air From the Hole in the Floor.

Wordless Wednesday

Labor Day

more animals

Enjoy that last dip in the pool!

Booking Through Thursday, 28.August 2008

"If you’re anything like me, one of your favorite reasons to read is for the story. Not for the character development and interaction. Not because of the descriptive, emotive powers of the writer. Not because of deep, literary meaning hidden beneath layers of metaphor. (Even though those are all good things.) No … it’s because you want to know what happens next?

"Or, um, is it just me?"


Whether fiction or nonfiction, the thing that drives my interest is "what happens next," most of the time. In nonfiction where I know the basics of the story, I read to learn all the details. In fiction, I read not only for the plot, but also for the beauty and depth and richness of the language. A good plot cannot, for me, make up for clumsy or poor writing. I'll toss a book aside before I'll plod through mediocrity. I must confess to feeling this way about nonfiction, too. If a writer wants me to invest my time and interest, he has to produce something worth my while in more ways than one.
As a teenager, I put up with bad writing in order to see how the plots came out, but I skimmed along enough to glean the essentials only. I was more tolerant, then.
But I'll tell you something that really frosts my flakes: absurd twists in the tales. I go crazy when I invest time in a book only to have a plot resolution come completely out of left field. I understand that writers want to have clever plot twists, unable to be guessed, but do me a favor! Please, folks, don't insult us readers by pulling the ol' "it was all a dream" ending or something equally ridiculous.

Wordless Wednesday

see more puppies

America, 1938

I love history, and I love to listen to people telling how they lived years ago. That's why I enjoy visiting www.svensto.blogspot.com. Svensto is a lady of ninety who just began blogging about immigrating from Sweden to New York in 1938. She writes simply but eloquently, and she drops a lot of famous names from the time. Visit Grandma Svensto and say hello.

Wordless Wednesday

Buy this!

I'll make this short. If you want a product that well and truly lives up to its name, buy Sheer Bliss ice cream. It comes in tiny, metal cans and is decidedly not a bargain brand, but if you want to put sheer bliss into your mouth, buy Sheer Bliss. I tried the "Freedom" flavor, heavenly vanilla laced with pomegranate and blueberry. Knockout! I can't wait to try the other flavors: Chocolate, Vanilla, Pomegranate with dark chocolate chips, Mediterranean Coffee, California Pomegranate, and Vanilla with pomegranate seeds.
I have no connection to Sheer Bliss and I receive absolutely nothing to compensate me for this post. When I find a product this good, I like to tell others.

(nearly) Wordless Wednesday

see more dog pictures

(nearly) Wordless Wednesday

see more dog pictures

BBB

BBB is big, beautiful Blanca, a deaf and blind Great Dane that lives at Rolling Dog Ranch, a sanctuary for disabled animals in Montana. The cats, dogs and horses enjoy life there where they are accepted and loved just as they are. The best of medical care is given them along with treats and toys and lots of blog coverage [www.blog.rollingdogranch.org].
The ranch is supported wholly with donations from the public. The founders, Mr. Steve Smith and Ms. Alayne Marker, have hearts as big as the Big Sky country where they live. It shows in their blog posts, updated five days/week by Mr. Smith.
Blanca is a special favorite of mine, and I just had to share her gorgeous picture with you. She has a funny habit of dragging her bed around the outdoor area to sleep now here, now there, now somewhere else. I think it may be because she can lift her big, beautiful head to inhale the different scent pools in different areas.

Booking Through Thursday, 7.August

OTHER WORLDS
suggested by Miko
Are there any particular worlds in books where you’d like to live?

Or where you certainly would NOT want to live?

What about authors? If you were a character, who would you trust to write your life?

(This came to me when reviewing a Jonathan Carroll book - I’m not sure I’d like to live in the worlds of his books.)

I love the little villages and towns in English cozy mysteries. They sound charming - - filled with flowers, bowers and showers - - and the inhabitants often seem like people I'd enjoy knowing. But then again, so many folks in these places drop dead, and nearly always in nasty, horrid ways! Newcomers seem especially likely prey. So, although I'd like to visit or live there, I'm quite sure it would be hazardous to my health.

Wordless Wednesday

more cat pictures

Food poisoning

Food poisoning, the illness that, like seasickness, frightens you at first because you think you're going to die, then again later because you're afraid you won't. My latest bout with this problem was over the weekend. During that time I had occasion to recall the first two lines of "Fat Man's Prayer," by that wonderfully talented character actor and entertaining poet, the late Victor Buono. He published a volume of poetry in 1972, "It Could Be Verse," which is available on amazon.com and a few other sites. Mr. Buono recorded an album, "Heavy!" on which he read a selection of his own poetry. I used to own them both, and I endorse them still for fun purchases.

"Fat Man's Prayer"

Lord, My soul is ripped with riot
incited by my wicked diet.
"We Are What We Eat," said a wise old man!
and, Lord, if that's true, I'm a garbage can.
I want to rise on Judgment Day, that's plain!
But at my present weight, I'll need a crane.
So grant me strength, that I may not fall
into the clutches of cholesterol.

May my flesh with carrot-curls be sated,
that my soul may be polyunsaturated
And show me the light, that I may bear witness
to the President's Council on Physical Fitness.

And at oleomargarine I'll never mutter,
for the road to Hell is spread with butter.
And cream is cursed; and cake is awful;
and Satan is hiding in every waffle.

Mephistopheles lurks in provolone;
the Devil is in each slice of baloney,
Beelzebub is a chocolate drop,
and Lucifer is a lollipop.

Give me this day my daily slice
but, cut it thin and toast it twice.
I beg upon my dimpled knees,
deliver me from jujubees.

And when my days of trial are done,
and my war with malted milk is won,
Let me stand with the Saints in Heaven
In a shining robe--size 37.

I can do it Lord, If You'll show to me,
the virtues of lettuce and celery.
If You'll teach me the evil of mayonnaise,
of pasta a la Milannaise
potatoes a la Lyonnaise
and crisp-fried chicken from the South.

Lord, if you love me, shut my mouth.

(nearly) Wordless Wednesday

see more dog pictures

In honor of National Hot Dog Day

Some of my best friends are animals

more cat pictures

It's true; many of those I love best are animals. Tucket, my wobbler kitten who is now ten months old, is recovering from tearing her tail ligaments. I never thought about tail ligaments until she tore hers. As far as I can tell, she injured them when she fell backward off a bed and landed on her tail. Most cats use their tails for balance, but hers is merely ornamental.

I came across a wonderful, little book a couple of years ago, a book which I would enjoy rereading and which I recommend to other animal-lovers. "Providence of a Sparrow: Lessons from a Life Gone to the Birds," by Chris Chester, is a funnny, heartwarming, true story of a man and the birds that came to share his home. Sparrows may be considered pernicious by many, but B, the sparrow in the book, turns out to have personality plus. B was a featherless nestling when found by the author, and he came to dominate Mr. Chester's home as he grew. Eventually, two male finches joined the household. Mr. and Mrs. Chester learn to play "sparrow games," among other things as their lives become evermore entwined with their avian friends'.

I loved the book's wit, its literary references and its warm humor. I also enjoy discovering people's unusual ways of living. This would make a dandy beach or vacation book, but it would also brighten one's winter reading.

Now here is a prayer, by an anonymous writer, followed by a quotation on Christian treatment of animals.

"Maker of earth and sea and sky,
Creation's sovereign Lord and King,
Who hung the starry worlds on high,
And formed alike the sparrow's wing;
Bless the dumb creatures of Thy care,
And listen to their voiceless prayer."

"I believe where the love of God is verily perfected, and the true spirit of government watchfully attended to, a tenderness toward all creatures made subect to us will be experienced; and a care felt in us, that we do not lessen that sweetness of life in the animal creation, which the great Creator intends for them under our government...To say we love God as unseen, and at the same time exercise cruelty toward the least creature moving by His life, or by life derived from Him, was a contradiction in itself." (John Woolman)

Reader's (in)Digest(ion)

What would you make if I gave you a pound of Velveeta, a pound of butter, a cup of cocoa, four pounds of powdered sugar and a tablespoon of vanilla? Why,chocolate cheese fudge, of course.

Hungry? How about if I tell you that the best way to serve cocktail weiners or rumaki (bacon-wrapped chicken livers and water chestnuts) is swimming in a brew of Coca-Cola and grape jelly and/or barbecue sauce?

Here is a famous recipe for potato salad: boiled potatoes, milk, Miracle Whip and salt. The creator of the recipe says "it offends no one," but I beg to disagree.

Do salmon fillets coated with mayonnaise and cornflakes and cooked in margarine, sour cream, cheese and canned tomatoes with chilis sound good? If so, perhaps you are the one who wants my recently acquired selection of community cookbooks.

I found these recipes and scads more when I browsed cookbooks I found while helping clear someone's house. They are from the mid 1980s to the early 1990s, and most of them are from the MidWest. The cookbooks show a rather touching dependence on canned soup, "oleo," Wesson oil, Velveeta, canned milk, bacon, salt and sugar. The canned soups go toward making gravies and sauces; most of the soups are creamed chicken, mushroom, and so on, though tomato soup pops up frequently.

I used to attend many church lunches and dinners during the years that these cookbooks were published, and I saw many familiar recipes. I recalled the year that chicken salad with grapes swept the nation, then it was chicken salad with canned mandarin oranges and Chinese noodles. Those recipes are here. Also here is the grandaddy of recipes that took the nation by storm, pot roast made with (dried) Lipton Onion Soup mix. Then there is the "ideal side dish," Stove-Top Stuffing mixed with canned soup and broccoli. Its contributor says it's perfect with anything.

These cookbooks were compiled from recipes submitted by members of churches, women's clubs, charitable organzations, hospitals and others. The most popular recipes appear time and again in almost identical words, often within the same cookbook.

The cookbooks give me a view of what was popular in a particular time and place. It's interesting to see what was considered healthful or exotic. I always get a kick out of recipes that claim to be old, old family traditions, then end up calling for Cool Whip, Reddi Whip, packaged cookies, chili sauce, etc.

I thought I would find new and tempting food ideas, but I ended finding a good many things I would never eat because they are mostly fat, salt, sugar and other things I avoid. But it's been fun. I know there are more community cookbooks waiting to be found as I clear houses, and I look forward to more amusement and fun.