The Only Plane in the Sky

"Where were you on 9/11?"

It's a question that defines my generation and so many others. We remember where we were (Kennewick, Washington), how we heard (from radio DJ Rick Dees, of all people) and what we did next (went to work as a TV journalist and chronicled the local stories as the world changed before our eyes.)

I remember how I felt that day. I remember the people I interviewed. I remember lines from stories I wrote. We don't forget defining days and moments. This book is a testament to that.

The book is made up of hundreds of accounts of what happened on that defining day. From people inside the World Trade Center to people on the ground in Shanksville, you read short snippets of their stories that, woven together, walk you through those 24 hours. Most of the book is focused on the day itself; the epilogue winds down the story and includes the death of Osama bin Laden. 

It's harrowing at times to read the stories of the women who didn't yet know they would be widows by day's end. You read and feel the compulsion to help, as told by the first responders who ran into buildings while everyone else ran away. You get a glimpse into the uncertainty of what was happening on Air Force One, as President Bush pushed to go home and the Secret Service overruled him.

Not to discount any of those stories, but there's little here you probably didn't know if you were an adult on 9/11. There was nothing that shocked or surprised me; the narratives merely told the story.

I don't know that you need to run out and read this book if you remember the day with any sort of clarity. I applaud the effort of compiling the histories, which should be preserved to honor the memory of the dead.

Pines

This book reminds me of when I go out for a run.

Starts strong. Full of promise and enthusiasm. Possibilities are endless. By the end, I'm just kind of wheezing along, just waiting for things to be over. When it's finally over, I feel decent about where I came from. But, the whole thing is a little hazy.

This book really did start out strong. A Secret Service agent wakes up in a fog in a remote and mountainous Idaho town. He's been in an accident and, initially, can't even remember his own name. He makes his way to a hospital and quickly realizes something about this town and its people are off.

He's there to investigate the disappearance of two other Secret Service agents, one of which he had an affair at some point. But, when he finds one of them dead, his urgency to get back to his life and family grows even more. Soon, he couldn't get out of this town if he tried and he can't get a hold of anyone who can help him.

What follows is the explanation for how the town of Wayward Pines, Idaho came to exist and the secret the people living there have learned to accept.

This book had my heart racing at times. I could not guess what would happen next and could not imagine where things were going. Once the climax began to reveal itself, my interest started to wane. While I did finish understanding how we got from point A to point B, I didn't actually care that much in the end.

Like those runs, I'm glad I completed it, but I don't feel like it's necessary to repeat.

Barracoon

What a journey. What a story. What a life.

I wrote in my last review that I don't remember the last time it took so long to read a book. Then, I devoured this one in a single Sunday morning.

In recent weeks, race and systemic racism have been part of nearly every conversation. It's as if with the death of a Black man in 2020, a nation's eyes opened to the sins of hundreds of years. 

I saw so many people sharing lists of books that white people should read to understand the plight of people of color in our communities. I wonder, how many people actually bought and read those books? For how many people is this more than something novel to post on social media, then move back into our privilege?

But, buried in one of those lists, this man's eyes caught my breath. I had never heard of this book or this story. On the day our local library opened back up for pickup, Barracoon was ready on my list.

The man with the shining eyes was born Oluale Kossola in West Africa. Along with many in his village, he was captured and sold into slavery in America. At the time he told this story in 1928, he was the last living person to have been brought as a slave to America. 

By the time he was telling his story, a free man for decades the community he and other freed slaves built in Alabama, Kossola was living by the name Cudjo Lewis. He had lived several more lifetimes by then; as a slave, then a free man, then a husband, then a father. The book tells his stories in his dialect and you can feel the pain and glory through his words.

His story isn't just about slavery, but about life in Africa before he was captured. It also reveals history not often told, of African kings raiding villages to kidnap people to sell into slavery. 

Kossola spent his life yearning for Africa, even after building his life in AfricaTown. There are times as he's recalling the stories of his life that he is so consumed and transformed by the memories of the raid that altered his life forever, that the author leaves him be. 

There is some triumph here, too, when you read about the work these freed slaves did to build their own homes and lives and community. But, Kossola's story is proof that the wounds of slavery and loss are far too deep for most of us to ever imagine. This man endured so much loss, even long after he lost his freedom.

This is a remarkable read and a story nearly lost to history. For reasons explained in the afterword, the manuscript sat for 80+ years before being published. 

As the author met with Kossola for the last time, she asked to take his picture. He put on a suit jacket and left his feet bare, saying he wanted it to resemble Africa, where after all these years, he still wishes he could be.

This is a powerful, compelling, haunting and important read. Now, of course, given the conversations. But, always. 

The City We Became

You're about to deal with a lot of prefacing. I'm going to preface this whole thing with that.

I don't remember the last time it took me this long to finish a book (almost 3 weeks?!?) By page 221, I was begging for it to be over. I just wasn't into it. But, I will PREFACE that by saying, I was reading it during: the pandemic (obvi), non-stop news coverage planning about racial protests in our city, packing up a house I've lived in for 14 years, getting two puppies AND moving into a new house. All at the same time.

So, in all fairness, I don't think a lot of books would have held my attention. But, looking at the reviews now and all the acclaim for this unique novel, I have to say - prefacing all of the above -  I just didn't get it. 

The concept of this book is fantastic and is the reason I paid full price for a hardcover new release in the first place (also, the library was still closed.) New York City is under attack and the only people who can save it are the average New Yorkers who come to embody their respective boroughs of NYC. Bronca, for example, is a streetwise artist who embodies The Bronx. Aislyn is a naive white girl who has spent her life cocooned on Statan Island. They have to work together to defeat the bizarre forces at work to take over the city. 

Cool, right? I mean, I don't read a ton of sci-fi, but I could easily get into this. And, I did understand the subtext of gentrification, etc. But, the novel itself just felt like it was constantly running somewhere and wasn't getting anywhere.

I've read that it's a love letter to New York and something only a true New Yorker would appreciate. For me, I just wanted it to end.

Maybe if I was less distracted... It's 2 stars for me.