http://www.sharaazod.com/books
There are tales; there are stories; and, then there are sagas. Georgie's Beau is a saga. The journey begins in 1930's rural Georgia. It takes readers to 1940's war-torn France before returning stateside and taking us to New Orleans, back to rural Georgia again, and finally to Hawaii. It is an emotionally-exhausting journey, pulling at our heartstrings, tugging at our sense of righteousness, pricking at our thirst for justice, and a Happily Ever After.
Georgina Willard's story begins like that of so many black women and for a while you wonder if it will end the same way while hoping like hell that it won't. Still, having studied history, one knows that however it ends, there's going to be a whole lot of heartbreak before any kind of Happily-Ever-After can enter. Despite the odds, you want … no you NEED … that Happily-Ever-After not simply because you develop an immediate affinity for Georgie but because Georgie is our history. Just as Chaka Khan sings that she is every woman, Georgie Willard is our grandmothers, our great aunts, our mothers.
Though the book is brimming with characters all of whom have powerful stories to tell, I found that I didn't care about their stories in the same way that I cared about Georgie's story. Their stories have been told by virtue of being the victor, by being male, by being white, by being anything but a black woman in the 1930's and 1940's. Volumes are dedicated to the lives of privileged white males and their families while too often the real stories of ordinary black women are rarely told except how they relate to the elite.
Still, this story cannot be told without telling a little bit about the other characters. Georgie, James Willard, Beau Dupuis, his parents Branford and Lily, their housekeeper Ida Dupuis, the beautiful Marie Dupuis, and the black community all have vital roles in this story. They all evoke powerful emotions although I found myself alternating between pity and fury. None escaped my anger, not even Georgie.
I found myself torn at who I was angriest at. How do you rank the bad things that sprang forth from Pandora's Box? What is worse? Even though you can understand why they are the way they are, is Georgie's envy a lesser sin than Beau's hubris? Is James Willard really a better father and example of manhood than Branford Dupuis? Is Ida's acceptance of the status quo better or worse than Lily's trickery? Is Lucien Roux's avarice worse than Marie's deception? Where does the black community's ostracism/ill treatment of Georgie’s rank against the white community's treatment of black Americans?
While my heart hurt for Georgie (and subsequently every Georgie in the world), I had a hard time liking the other characters. Azod doesn't hold anything back in the writing of them, doing nothing to conceal their faults (translation: their humanness). I liked the fact that she put it all out there and didn't try and paint the characters better or worse than they actually were. That let the reader decide how to categorize them. In the end you realize that there is no one right answer. The characters fall squarely into the both/and category rather than the either/or category. That is, they are both good and bad; beautiful and ugly; wretched and joyous. The length of the book gives the reader time to grapple with the characters. In the end, I was okay with categorizing characters as either good or bad. It wasn't really about their goodness or badness; it was more about their ability to be redeemed.
I had a mouthful of damn you's, oohs and ahhs, sighs, and mmm, mmm, mmm's locked and loaded … and I said every one of them. I wanted everyone around me to have read this story because it's a story that warrants discussion. Georgie's Beau makes you think and it makes you feel – and not just that surface feeling but that deep down in the core of you feeling. And perhaps that is why I reacted so strongly to the characters. It wasn't merely that they perpetuated abominable acts and beautiful acts; it was that they made me confront my own prejudices, and thus my own humanness.
This was a wonderful book. Five out of five.
There are tales; there are stories; and, then there are sagas. Georgie's Beau is a saga. The journey begins in 1930's rural Georgia. It takes readers to 1940's war-torn France before returning stateside and taking us to New Orleans, back to rural Georgia again, and finally to Hawaii. It is an emotionally-exhausting journey, pulling at our heartstrings, tugging at our sense of righteousness, pricking at our thirst for justice, and a Happily Ever After.
Georgina Willard's story begins like that of so many black women and for a while you wonder if it will end the same way while hoping like hell that it won't. Still, having studied history, one knows that however it ends, there's going to be a whole lot of heartbreak before any kind of Happily-Ever-After can enter. Despite the odds, you want … no you NEED … that Happily-Ever-After not simply because you develop an immediate affinity for Georgie but because Georgie is our history. Just as Chaka Khan sings that she is every woman, Georgie Willard is our grandmothers, our great aunts, our mothers.
Though the book is brimming with characters all of whom have powerful stories to tell, I found that I didn't care about their stories in the same way that I cared about Georgie's story. Their stories have been told by virtue of being the victor, by being male, by being white, by being anything but a black woman in the 1930's and 1940's. Volumes are dedicated to the lives of privileged white males and their families while too often the real stories of ordinary black women are rarely told except how they relate to the elite.
Still, this story cannot be told without telling a little bit about the other characters. Georgie, James Willard, Beau Dupuis, his parents Branford and Lily, their housekeeper Ida Dupuis, the beautiful Marie Dupuis, and the black community all have vital roles in this story. They all evoke powerful emotions although I found myself alternating between pity and fury. None escaped my anger, not even Georgie.
I found myself torn at who I was angriest at. How do you rank the bad things that sprang forth from Pandora's Box? What is worse? Even though you can understand why they are the way they are, is Georgie's envy a lesser sin than Beau's hubris? Is James Willard really a better father and example of manhood than Branford Dupuis? Is Ida's acceptance of the status quo better or worse than Lily's trickery? Is Lucien Roux's avarice worse than Marie's deception? Where does the black community's ostracism/ill treatment of Georgie’s rank against the white community's treatment of black Americans?
While my heart hurt for Georgie (and subsequently every Georgie in the world), I had a hard time liking the other characters. Azod doesn't hold anything back in the writing of them, doing nothing to conceal their faults (translation: their humanness). I liked the fact that she put it all out there and didn't try and paint the characters better or worse than they actually were. That let the reader decide how to categorize them. In the end you realize that there is no one right answer. The characters fall squarely into the both/and category rather than the either/or category. That is, they are both good and bad; beautiful and ugly; wretched and joyous. The length of the book gives the reader time to grapple with the characters. In the end, I was okay with categorizing characters as either good or bad. It wasn't really about their goodness or badness; it was more about their ability to be redeemed.
I had a mouthful of damn you's, oohs and ahhs, sighs, and mmm, mmm, mmm's locked and loaded … and I said every one of them. I wanted everyone around me to have read this story because it's a story that warrants discussion. Georgie's Beau makes you think and it makes you feel – and not just that surface feeling but that deep down in the core of you feeling. And perhaps that is why I reacted so strongly to the characters. It wasn't merely that they perpetuated abominable acts and beautiful acts; it was that they made me confront my own prejudices, and thus my own humanness.
This was a wonderful book. Five out of five.
Jayha
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