Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's Half a Yellow Sun'

Well, I was right to dread the ending. I knew that at least one of the main characters would die - be it a literal or spiritual death.

You'd think that, in the context of the hundreds of thousands who had died and or been debased by the war, the outcome for individual characters would have less significance. But this is not the case.

The ironic thing is that it is the strongest of the characters who does die - but even then the knife is twisted more painfully - because her body is never found. Is she actually dead? Will she ever return?

Clearly this echoes the healing of a country (that had so much potential - that had seemed so strong) is torn apart by civil war. Can peace ever truly be restored?

When the twin sisters are reunited after a terrible betrayal it seems such a hopeful thing - but the betrayal had not been as bloody as a civil war, in which hundreds of thousands were savagely slaughtered and/or behaved in ways which they themselves deemed abhorrent. So the forgiveness and reunion could never be as 'easy'.

The separation between the two sisters had been painful. As a reader it was possible to see the act of betrayal and its aftermath from all four sides. It was possible to empathise with all four characters. Consequently the wider reverberations, within ther families, among their friends were even more tragic.

So imagine any attempts to reunite a country, post civil war?

To what extent is Nigeria now, in 2012, a unified country?

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's Half a Yellow Sun'

I'm just about to start part 4: the ploy of the delayed revelation re. the baby works after all.

Now I'm completely caught up and dreading the ending.

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's Half a Yellow Sun'

I'm just about to start chapt 19

The revelations about Biafran/Nigerian history is a revelation.

I'm hating the ploy of the delayed revelations about what happened in the lead up to the birth of Olanna's baby.
Did she have an affair with her twin sister's white boyfriend?
If so, was it in relatiation for the way her live-in lover's mother had treated her and his response to this?

Coraline (2002) by Neil Gaiman

The story opens with Coraline, a child who is not taken seriously by adults. She discovers that a locked door in her home passes through to another reality, a house which is an inversion of her own world. She undergoes a quest to escape from the clutches of her ‘other mother’, a struggle on which both her and her parents’ survival depends. The novel is at once a modern fairy tale, a horror story and an allegory about growing up.

I wanted to like the story but I felt cheated by it.

Surely it is just a retelling of 'The Wizard of Oz'?
Surely it is just a retelling of 'The Book of Lost Things' by John Connolly?

Harry Potter Heptology

Having spent 9 days reading all 7 novels in Sept 2012 I just finished re-watching all 8 films in a Harry Potter marathon.

Well worth it though the books are MUCH better.

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's Half a Yellow Sun'

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's Half a Yellow Sun'

I still find it a real problem that there is no glossary for the Nigerian words and phrases that are used throughout the novel. But, having completed Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's Purple Hibiscus I'm determined to complete 'Half a Yellow Sun', which I had started but abandoned.

I am now on chapter 5 - much further than I got 1st time round. I am much more intrigued by these characters and I'm intensely curious about how things will pan out. I also enjoy the incidental revelations about Nigeria's history.

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's Purple Hibiscus

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's Purple Hibiscus

I found it a real problem that there is no glossary for the Nigerian words and phrases that are used throughout the novel.
In addition the book was so reminiscent of the ‘tyrannical father’ novels by Rosa Guy, Joan Riley, Toni Morrison & Alice Walker that I wondered why Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie had bothered to write it. What did she add to the genre?

On the plus side it did make me curious about Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's earlier novel 'Half a Yellow Sun', which I had started but abandoned.

I've gone back to 'Half a Yellow Sun' and am now on chapter 5 - much further than I got 1st time round. I am much more intrigued by these characters and I'm intensely curious about how things will pan out. I also enjoy the incidental revelations about Nigeria's history.

Parade's End - Ford Madox Ford

I'm loving the 2012 BBC TV serialisation with Benedict Cumberbatch as Teijens.
I've re-watch each episode at least once.

I read 'The Good Soldier' by Ford Madox Ford as part of my English degree back in late 1980s. I still have powerful memories of it. Watching 'Parade's End', and the two documentaries on the writer have prompted my desire to re-read the novel.

Michelle Obama depicted as a slave on the cover of the August issue of the Spanish magazine

See iamges at

http://madamenoire.com/209160/todavia-esclavos-the-real-message-behind-fuera-de-series-michelle-obama-cover/

According to Brande Victorian From ‘Madame Noire’, the First Lady of the US; naked, nude, depicted as a slave on the cover of the August issue of the Spanish magazine, Fuera de Serie, in the likeness of the Afro-Guadeloupean female slave painted by French artist Marie-Guilhelmine Benoist in 1795, is an act of disrespect.

The weekly magazine is a lifestyle supplement to the Spanish newspaper Expansión.” The headline that accompanied the feature on the Flotus was “Michelle Tataranieta De Esclava, Dueña De América” (Michelle great-great granddaughter of a slave, owner of America).

Artist Karine Percheron-Daniels made the nude image of Michelle Obama to suggest that Michelle Obama is and always will be a slave, no matter how removed from physical enslavement, and how high of a position she’s climbed to in society.

Percheron-Daniels recreated others for a series of “famous nudes” that includes portraits of Princess Diana, Eva Peron, Albert Einstein, and even Barack Obama. Apparently, Percheron-Daniels wanted to showcase an “alternative unexpected reality” that allows us to “view famous individuals in a different way.”

However none of her other nude subjects are depicted in such a so-called alternative way.

Lee Daniels' The film 'Precious' (2008) based on the novel by Sapphire.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/i/b015b74g/

The casting is excellent. The acting is excellent. The look is excellent. But I didn't really see the point of this story.

Dysfunctional Black America. Same ole same ole. Why repeat such stories? To indict the education systemtndict the welfare system?

What kind of hope was given? I didn't feel the ending was triumphant. Precious is dreaming if she thinks it's going to be an easy ride.

The most shocking thing was the persistent ignorance (even in the 21st century) about the transmission of HIV.  I mean, come on. The level of ignorance was on par with what it was back in the 1980s.

I think Armond White's New York Press' was right: "Black pathology sells" because it conforms to and reinfornces racist ideas that  higher class blacks have of lower class blacks and it conforms to and reinfornces racist ideas that racist white people have of lower class blacks.

I agree with Courtland Milloy (Washington Post) that the 'pleasure' in the film is 'purient' with 'about as much social value as a porn flick.'

But Sukhdev Sandhu (Daily Telegraph) said it best when he dismissed the film as "a dispiriting mix of cliche & melodrama."

Chapter Three – ‘Let the Circle by Unbroken’ by Mildred Taylor

From our perches in the trees, which overlooked the courtroom, we could see TJ sitting beside Mr Jamison. He looked even skinnier than he had been when 1 had last seen him four months ago, & he seemed nervous, biting at his lower lip & jumping visibly at the sounds around him. As the proceedings began, he glanced back at his parents, then turned stiffly to face the prosecutor, Mr Hadley Macabee.
The first witness called was Mrs Jim Lee Barnett. Her story was that she & her husband had gone to their second-floor living quarters above the Mercantile shortly after six, as was their custom, had supper, & retired about eight o'clock. They were awakened about an hour later by noises from below. With Mr Barnett leading the way, they went downstairs to investigate & found three Negroes standing there & the store's safe open. Mr Barnett, trying to stop the burglary, had attacked one of the Negroes, but a second Negro holding an axe had hit him on the back of his head with the blunt of the axe. Once Mrs Barnett saw her husband down, she had attacked the men herself, but was swiftly knocked out by one of them. When she came to, she found her husband still unconscious & bleeding badly from the head wound. The men were gone. At this point she started screaming & ran outside for help.
When Mr Macabee asked Mrs Barnett who were the first to come to her aid, she replied that at the time she was quite dazed & couldn't remember everyone, but she did remember Mr Courtney Jones, proprietor of the pool hall, and RW & Melvin Simms.
Mrs Barnett's testimony was liberally laced with tears & emotion, & it was clear that most of the court spectators greatly sympathized with her. The jury members sat with their backs to us, so we could not see their faces, but I had no doubt that they too were sympathetic. Even I, as much as I disliked the woman & felt no loss at all for her bigoted husband, felt pity for her.
But not for long.
Once Mr Macabee had finished with Mrs Barnett, Mr Jamison, speaking loudly enough to be heard by everyone, yet evoking a calm quiet that seemed almost a whisper, began to question her. He was very gentle, apologizing that he had to ask her to relive that night again, but that he needed to know exactly what she & her husband had done upon hearing the noises in the store. Mrs Barnett seemed leery of Mr Jamison at first, but recounted that night's events as she had been asked. She repeated that they got up. 'Yes,' said Mr Jamison. & went to their bedroom door.
'Yes.'
And through the living room —
'Yes.'
And to the hall & down the stairs -
'Just a minute, Mrs Barnett,' Mr Jamison gently interrupted. 'Did you turn on the light first? As I recall, there is a light switch at the top of the stairs leading down to the store.'
Mrs Barnett frowned in thought, trying to remember, then she said: 'No sir, we didn't turn it on 'cause it hadn't been working for more'n a month. The one downstairs worked, but not that one. Jim Lee - bless his heart - had been intending to fix it, but never got 'round to it. It still ain't fixed.'
Mr Jamison bowed his head slightly as if in respect for the kind intentions of the departed, then probing just as gently asked if the light was on downstairs in the store.
Again Mrs Barnett was thoughtful. No, she conceded, as if to a friend, the light was not on. She & Mr Barnett always turned it off before retiring & the thieves had not turned it on. 'Then, Mrs Barnett, how did you see?'
'Oh, we had a flashlight,' she answered matter-of-factly. 'We always kept one by the bed. An oil lamp too. Never could tell when the electricity might go out.'
'I see. You had a flashlight ... You didn't tell me.' Mr Jamison's tone was not one of accusation but of feelings hurt by her neglecting to confide that bit of information to him.
'I'm sorry,' apologized Mrs Jim Lee Barnett.
'What about your glasses, Mrs Barnett? Did you have time to put them on? I notice that most times when I've seen you, you have them on ... like now.'
'Yessir, I always wear them. Had to since I was a young girl.
Nearsighted, you know -'
'And did you wear them that night?'
There was silence as Mrs Barnett pondered the question. 'You know, I don't believe I did. No, I didn't, 'cause the flashlight was on Jim Lee's side of the bed & I didn't have no light. I remember reaching for my specs, trying to feel them on the nightstand with my hand, but I was so nervous & Jim Lee was already at the door going into the living room, & I was 'fraid he was goin' downstairs by hisself.'
'So you didn't have on your glasses - which you say you need - & you did have a flashlight, & you started down the stairs -'
That's right.'
'And did you & your husband go straight down the stairs & into the store -'
'Yes-'
'- or did you stop on the stairs, just for a moment or two?'
'Come to think of it, you know we did stop. That's when we saw them.'
'Saw whom?'
'The nigras.'
'I see. About how far would you say you were from the intruders? Could you tell us in relationship to the courtroom?'
Mrs Barnett frowned again. ' 'Bout as far back as them middle benches there, I'd reckon.'
Mr Jamison nodded. 'About twenty feet then.'
'Yes,' she agreed.
'And just where were the intruders standing when you first saw them?'
'Well, one of them was at the gun counter & them other two was by the safe.'
'You stated previously that one of the intruders struggled with Mr Barnett & another one hit him from behind with the axe. Now which two men were involved in this? The ones at the safe, or did the one from the counter join in?'
'It was them two by the safe, but I figure that other one would've joined in if he'd've gotten a chance.'
'Just answer the question, Clara," Judge Havershack said from his bench. 'Wade didn't ask you about what that fella would've done.'
Mrs Barnett heaved an exasperated sigh.
'It was the two by the safe,' Mr Jamison repeated. 'Did that third person - the one by the gun counter — strike Mr Barnett at all or attempt to harm him physically in any way?'
Mrs Barnett conceded that he had not.
'Now, Mrs Barnett, when your husband went down the steps, did he still have the flashlight?'
'He did. Used it to defend hisself 'gainst them murderers. Dropped it when he fell. Light stayed on though, so's I was able to see.'
'Mrs Barnett, you said that you saw three Negroes. I understand from Dr Crandon that for many people with uncorrected myopic vision - nearsightedness - everything is blurred from a distance of twenty feet & that they would not be able to define any facial features. Were you able to distinguish the facial features of the intruders?'
'I know a nigra when I see one!' she snapped.
'Yes, ma'am, no doubt, but could you describe these particular Negroes to us?'
'They was black, that's all I know.'
'But you did not see their features?'
'No, I didn't.'
'What about other features, such as height? Could you dis-tinguish the height of the intruders at the distance of twenty feet?'
Mrs Barnett seemed uncertain.
'Mrs Barnett, I wonder if you'd take off your glasses so that we can try a little experiment?'
Mrs Barnett turned toward Judge Havershack, a surging rebel-In >n on her face, & Mr Macabee stood to object.
'What's this leading up to, Wade?' asked Judge Havershack.
'Mrs Barnett has told us she didn't have on her glasses. I think that we all need to know just how much she could see.'
The judge considered. 'All right,' he decided. Take off your glasses please, Clara.'
Mrs Barnett let out another sigh & took them off. Mr Jamison then went down the aisle & spoke to several men seated on a bench near the center of the courtroom. The men stood & came into the aisle; RW & Melvin Simms were among them. Mr Jamison asked Mrs Barnett if she recognized any of the men. Mrs Barnett squinted fiercely, but finally admitted she couldn't see who they were. He then asked if any of the men were the same height as the intruders. She was not to worry, he said, that the men standing were white; they were simply helping out the court. With no hesitation, Mrs Barnett dismissed three of the men as being either too tall or too short. She said the remaining two were the right height. The two were RW & Melvin.
'And how can you be so certain about the height?' Mr Jamison asked her.
'Cause Jim Lee & them two he was fighting with were near to the same height. Jim Lee was five ten. Them two gentlemen standing next to you look to be near the same height as you from here, & Jim Lee & you was the same.' 'How tall was the man behind the counter?' 'Well, I didn't much pay attention to him. He never got close to Jim Lee.'
Mr Jamison turned to Melvin & RW & asked them their heights. They blanched, looking uneasy. 'It's just to get a fix on the height of the intruders, gentlemen,' Mr Jamison assured them. 'Nothing personal.' The Simmses glared at him suspiciously, but gave their heights: five feet nine inches & five feet ten & a half inches.
Mr Jamison then asked that TJ be brought down the aisle. Slowly TJ stood & I saw that his hands, which he had kept under the table, were cuffed; his legs were free. Led by Deputy Haynes, he walked toward Mr Jamison & stood beside RW & Melvin Simms. The courtroom was silent as everyone noted the difference in size. TJ was much shorter & smaller.
'Mrs Barnett, look at TJ carefully now,' Mr Jamison directed. 'Having just identified men of five ten & a half, & five nine of being the approximate height of the men who fought & struck your husband, can you say that TJ was one of these men?'
Mrs Barnett bit into her lip. There could be only one answer. But Mrs Barnett said, 'I don't know ... it was dark ...'
'Not that dark. You yourself said that throughout there was light from the flashlight. That you could see. Now, was TJ one of the men?'
Mrs Barnett put on her glasses & replied crisply, 'I can't be certain.' Mr Jamison gazed at her with great patience. 'Well ... maybe he wasn't ... I can't be sure ...'
'Can't you?' Mr Jamison's voice was suddenly stern. 'You just told this court that the two men who -'
Mr Macabee jumped up & objected. He said that Mrs Barnett had already given her answer & that should satisfy the court. Judge Havershack agreed. He ordered RW & Melvin to sit down & for Deputy Haynes to bring TJ back to the defender's table.
Mr Jamison turned again to Mrs Barnett. Softly, he said, 'Mrs Barnett, I know you want - as does most everyone in this room including myself- the murderer of your husband to pay for his terrible crime. Now, with that in mind, I want you to think very carefully about this next question.' He paused as if trying to put the question right in his mind before saying it. But to my surprise, he asked no question right then. Instead, he walked over to the court table & opened a thin box & lifted out its contents. Walking back to Mrs Barnett, he displayed what was in the box: two black stockings.
'Mrs Barnett, these as you know are ladies' stockings. They were found in the trash outside your door the day after your husband was murdered. Such items are, of course, usually worn in times of grief.' He nodded at Mrs Barnett, who crimsoned just a bit & tucked her own blackened legs farther inward to her chair. 'Or sometimes just to give an aura of blackness. Now, ma’am, please forgive the personal question, but outside your time "I mourning as now, have you worn stockings of this coloring?' Mrs Barnett said she hadn't, & to Mr Jamison's question as to whether or not she had been in mourning at any time during the LAST year & had perhaps just thrown away such stockings, she again said she had not.

'Now, Mrs Barnett, please look at my hand." Mr Jamison held up his hand for her to see, then slipped it inside one of the stockings. 'What color does my hand appear to be?'
Mrs Barnett looked from Mr Jamison's hand to his face, then back to his hand again. 'Well ... black.'
'Mrs Barnett, since you yourself said that you saw no features of the men, but that they were definitely black, do you think that it was possible that the men could have been wearing stockings? Black stockings?'
A murmur rose in the courtroom.
'That perhaps the men who fought with your husband, who killed him, might not have been black at all, but white men wearing black stockings so that you would think that they were black?'
A wave of disbelief rose & crescendoed as Judge Havershack wildly pounded his gavel & threatened repercussions until all was quiet again. Then he glowered down at Mr Jamison. 'Now, Wade, you know all that's supposition. You got no right to ask this witness to testify to what was in the minds of her attackers.'
Mr Jamison nodded. 'Then Mrs Barnett, tell me this. Without having seen any of their features - noses, mouths, eyes, hair -only the blackness of their faces, can you swear that the men who killed your husband were Negroes? Before God Almighty, can
you swear that?'
Mrs Barnett stared at Mr Jamison. Doubt had set in. She stared at the stocking still covering Mr Jamison's hand, then up at Mr Jamison. She puckered her lips, wet them, & answered: 'No, I can't say that I can. I surely can't ...'
R. W. Simms & Melvin Simms followed Mrs Barnett on the witness stand. Both testified that they had seen TJ. & two other Negroes running from the back of the Barnett Mercantile when they had come into town to shoot pool at Courtney Jones' place. When asked by Mr Macabee why they hadn't become suspicious & stopped them, they told the court that they had recognized TJ, whom they had once befriended, & TJ had told them that he & the other Negroes had just come from Ike Foster's shed, where they had been playing cards & had been accused of cheating. They claimed, according to RW & Melvin, that they were fleeing with their winnings.
RW laughed. 'At the time, I thought it was nigger business. Let them take care of it ...'
To our surprise, Mr Jamison did not question RW or Melvin, but passed over them with what he called the right to recall.
Mr Macabee then called the white farmer who had given TJ a ride back from Strawberry in his wagon on the night of the break-in. He testified that he had picked TJ up shortly after nine o'clock on Soldiers Road, & that TJ had told him he was coming from Strawberry. Mr Jamison asked the farmer if he had noticed whether or not TJ had been hurt. The farmer said that TJ had been hurt & that he had said two men had beaten him, but had not said who. Following the farmer, Sheriff Hank Dobbs testified that the gun Mrs Barnett had earlier identified as having come from her store had been found by Clyde Persons, a citizen of the town deputized to apprehend the thieves.
'Deputy, my foot!' I grumbled. 'Ole Clyde Persons was one of them lynchmen.'
'Hush, Cassie,' Stacey ordered. I hushed.
Clyde Persons was called, & testified that he had indeed found the pearl-handled pistol in TJ's corn-husk mattress. Next Dr Crandon told of Jim Lee Barnett's & Mrs Barnett's conditions when he arrived on the scene. He described Mr Barnett's head injury, what treatment he had administered, & told the time of death.
With his testimony the prosecution rested its case, & Mr Jamison stood up. 'I'd like to call TJ Avery to the stand,' he said.
All the fidgeting that had gone on during the last testimonies ceased, & all grew quiet. The faces of the boys around me were tense, anxious, waiting. I stopped breathing as TJ stood. He looked around the courtroom, bewildered, as if too afraid to move. Mr Jamison nodded to him; TJ moved mechanically to the witness stand. He was sworn in, then sat down.
Mr Jamison started his questioning of TJ by asking him to tell M that had happened that evening. TJ began with the revival meeting when RW & Melvin had brought him up to Great Faith in their pickup. TJ's words were halting & unsure, all the cockiness gone.

'And just how did you come to be with RW & Melvin Simms that evening? Was that unusual?'
TJ looked out over the courtroom, then quickly down at the floor. Throughout most of his testimony, he kept his eyes there.
'N-no, sir. I'd been with 'em mos' of the time for the last four or five months. I ..." His last words were mumbled.
'Speak up, TJ,' Mr Jamison admonished kindly, 'so the court can hear.'
'I - I said I thought they was my friends." A knot formed in my throat.
'Did you stay for the revival service?' Mr Jamison asked. 'No, sir. RW & Mel -' TJ stopped & looked around, realizing his mistake. RW & Melvin had told him he could address them using only their given names, but like everything else they had said, that too meant nothing. TJ lowered his eyes again. 'I mean Mr RW & Mr Melvin, they said to come on & we gone right to Strawberry & -' RW jumped up. 'That's a downright lie!' Judge Havershack pounded his gavel & ordered RW to sit down & be quiet. Sullenly, RW looked around the courtroom, then back at the judge, & sat.
Mr Jamison resumed his questioning. 'TJ, what was your purpose for going into Strawberry?'
'Mr RW & Mr Melvin, they said they was gonna get me that pearl-handled pistol at the Barnett store. Said they'd take me up to church like I wanted, but then we was gonna go on into town to get that pistol.'
'When you got into town, was the store open or closed?' 'It was closed. Mr RW & Mr Melvin said there was no sense in comin' back for the pistol after we'd come all the way into town jus' to get it. Said we'd jus' go in & get it, & if Mr Barnett or Miz Barnett come down, we'd jus' tell 'em we was plannin' on payin' for it come Monday.'
'Did you go directly into the store?'
'No, sir. We waited 'bout an hour first till the lights upstairs gone out & we figured the Barnetts was gone to sleep.' 'How did you enter the store?' Through the back. There was a window there, real small, & I got through it & opened the door for Mr Melvin & Mr RW'
'Was the window big enough for a person the size of Melvin or RW Simms to get through?'
TJ shook his head. 'It was tight jus' for me.'
'When you opened the door, was there anything different about the Simmses?'
TJ nodded. 'They was wearing black stockings over their heads & they had on gloves. I got scared then, 'fraid they was gonna do more'n take the gun, & I wanted to leave, but they told me to stay. Then they broke the lock on the gun case & they give me my pistol.'
'And just what happened then?' Mr Jamison asked.
TJ answered, but the boys & I couldn't hear what he said; for coming across the courthouse lawn, fussing at the top of his voice, was Joe McCalister.
'Ah, Lord, no,' sighed Little Willie. We had lost all track of the time.
Stacey looked from Joe to TJ & started down. 'Well, we better go try & shut him up 'fore we get in more trouble than we already in.'
Little Willie, Clarence, & Moe followed him down. Chris-topher-John, Little Man, & I stayed behind in the tree.
'It's way past time to go!' Joe cried. 'I told y'all young-uns on the way down here my Aunt Callie get after me I ain't home 'fore dark & I jus' been a-waitin'. Y'all knows I don't like to be down here in the white folks' street!'
I was afraid that the people inside the courthouse would hear Joe's hollering, but no one seemed to notice.
When the boys reached him, they turned him back toward the wagon. But Joe stopped halfway there, waving his arms angrily in the air. After a minute or so, Stacey left the group & went over to the wagon, where Wordell was haunched by one of the wheels staring silently out at the scene. Stacey haunched beside linn, then stood again, waiting. Wordell looked up at him, got up, & walked over to Joe. There were several more long liniments of hefty yelling by Joe before finally he turned with Win dell & went back to the wagon. Stacey, Clarence, Little Willie, & Moe came back to the tree.
'What happened?' I asked Stacey as he settled onto his branch. 'Joe wanted to go right now, but Wordell got him to stay. What's happening down there?'
'He did? He actually talked?' I asked, my fascination for Wordell momentarily forcing out more important matters. 'Course he talked,' Stacey snapped. 'Now be quiet.' I turned my attention back to the trial.
'- & you say it was RW Simms with a black stocking covering his face who hit Jim Lee Barnett with the axe, & Melvin Simms who shoved Mrs Barnett, rendering — leaving — her unconscious.' Mr Jamison leveled his gaze at TJ 'Is that correct?1
'Y-yes, sir.' TJ went on to explain what had occurred after both the Barnetts had been knocked out. He told of his trying to run, his threat to tell of what had happened, & the Simmses beating him.
Mr Jamison turned so that the spectators could see his face. His look was thoughtful, concerned. 'TJ, you've said that RW & Melvin Simms told you they were going to get the pearl-handled gun for you. & you've said that you reached the store after closing & that RW & Melvin Simms said that you would just go in & take the gun.' Mr Jamison turned back toward TJ & lowered his voice so that it was softer, confidential, but could still be heard. 'Now, TJ, I want you to be very truthful, both with yourself & with the court. Did you realize you were doing wrong?'
TJ looked at Mr Jamison. He bit into his lip, then looked back at his cuffed hands. 'Yes, sir.'
'Then why did you do what you did? Why did you break into that store?'
TJ looked up, his eyes wide, as if he was sure everyone had already understood. He hesitated a moment, then said meekly, They told me to.
'At any time, TJ, for any moment, did you do physical harm against either Mr Barnett or Mrs Barnett?'
'No sir, I didn't! I never did! I ain't never lifted a hand 'gainst neither of 'em & I wish - I wish to God I ain't never gone in there ...'
Mr Jamison sat down; Mr Macabee stood up. For an interminable time he gazed at TJ & TJ cowered under that gaze. Then Mr Macabee approached the witness stand.
'You've done a lot of talking, boy ... about the Simmses & yourself,' said Mr Macabee. 'About what-all they done for you & about what they told you to do. In fact, you've done so much talking, a body would just about suspect that you didn't have much to do at all with the murder of Jim Lee Barnett ... that you are simply a victim of circumstances. But what I want to know is why you have chosen to malign two hardworking young men who only did good by you?' 'I-'
'You say RW & Melvin Simms gave you things - a cap, a tie - & this is how you repay them? By trying to put the blame on them when it was actually two of your own kind who killed Mr Barnett?'
'No sir, it was -'
'I say it's so. That you're protecting the two other nigras who took that money —' Tears began to roll down TJ's face. '- & killed Jim Lee Barnett -' Mr Jamison stood swiftly. 'Your honor-'
'- & I also say that you knew exactly what you were doing when you entered that store, and that you are guilty of murder -' 'I object, your honor!' interceded Mr Jamison. '- because whether or not you actually was the nigra who dealt the death blow, the blood on your black hands is just as red & it won't wash off—' TJ was sobbing hysterically. 'Judge Havershack!'
'All right, Hadley, that's enough now,' Judge Havershack reprimanded him without enthusiasm. But it seemed to me that Mr Macabee couldn't have cared less about the reprimand. He had said what he had set out to say. He continued to question TJ. in a less dramatic fashion, contending that the beating TJ had incurred was indeed the result of a falling-out among thieves: black thieves. The money had never been found; neither li.nl the two other murderers. TJ had just been unlucky enough to be caught, & he contended that TJ, no matter what he said, was guilty of murder. When TJ was led sobbing back to his seat by Mr Jamison, I noticed that the faces of the spectators had hardened, & I had the sinking feeling that it was all over.
Reverend Gabson was then called to the stand. Mr Jamison asked him if he had seen TJ on the night of the burglary. Reverend Gabson said that he had seen TJ at the Great Faith revival meeting with the Simms brothers, but that none of them had stayed; all had left together. He added that most of the congregation had seen them, for they had come just before the service, which began at seven o'clock. Mr Jamison asked if he had overheard anything that had been said between the Simmses & TJ
'Yes, sir,' replied Reverend Gabson. 'Mr RW & Mr Melvin said something 'bout come on, you still want that pearl-handled pistol. They said something 'bout all of 'em going into Straw-berry. '
'What was TJ's physical condition at that time? Had he been beaten?'
'No, sir. He was fine at the church.'
Reverend Gabson stepped down & Mr Jamison called RW back to the stand. 'Mr Simms,' said Mr Jamison after taking several long moments to look unhurriedly through his notes on the table, 'Reverend Gabson has just testified that he & a number of people at Great Faith church saw you & your brother Melvin with TJ Avery on the evening of August twenty-fifth. Do you concur in this?'
RW looked annoyed by the question. "Bout forty minhim, if that's what ya mean. We seen him walking on the way to church i & we give him a ride. That's what we done for him ... had pity on the nigger, & look here see how we gets repaid. See these here filthy lies he been tellin'. You give a nigger an inch & he take a mile, so I guess what could we expect?' He looked past Mr Jamison, directing the question to the people in the court. Several of the men nodded, showing they agreed.
'Did you also bring him into town?'
'Naw, we ain't done that. Him & a few of the nigra younguns had a falling-out down at the church, so he decided not to stay & we brought him on back toward his house — down far as our own place - & let him off.'
'While you were at the church, did you or Melvin say anything about going into Strawberry?' 'We ain't.'
'Did you say anything about getting a pearl-handled pistol for him?'
'We ain't.'
'I see. All those people at the church misheard you then.' There was a hint of sarcasm in his tone, but Mr Jamison gave RW no time to reply. 'When you left the church, you said you dropped TJ off in front of your place. Did you then go directly to town?' 'Naw, we gone into the house first.' 'How long were you home?' 'Oh, I don't know - 'bout an hour, I reckon.' 'And then you went?' That's right.' 'Directly?' 'Yeah.'
'In your truck?' 'Yeah.'
'You & your brother Melvin?' RW sighed. 'Yeah, ain't I said that?'
Mr Jamison nodded & walked from RW, talking to him as he crossed to his table. 'And why did you decide to go into Strawberry at that hour — it was quite late, was it not?'
'Wasn't so late. Me & Melvin jus' had an itch to play some pool, that's all, & Mr Jones' is usually open late Saturdays. There isn't nothin' wrong with that.'
'No,' agreed Mr Jamison, 'nothing wrong with that at all.' He turned to face RW 'Just what time did you get into town?'
'How'm I s'pose to know that? Ain't got no watch. I'm just a dirt farmer, not no fancy nigger lawyer.'
Mr Jamison ignored the remark. 'Well, perhaps I can help you in it. Reverend Gabson testified that church services at Great Faith began at seven o'clock & that you arrived with the Avery boy just a few minutes before that & that you left shortly after. So would you say that it was about seven o'clock when you were at the church?'
RW stared somewhat dubiously at Mr Jamison. 'I reckon,' he said.

'And you said you then went home, dropping TJ Avery off at that point. Now about how long would that take?'
RW shrugged. 'Five minutes or so.'
'Um,' murmured Mr Jamison rubbing his chin. 'Now you stayed what you say was about an hour at home, then went into town. How long does it take for you to make that trip into Strawberry in your pickup?'
RW looked annoyed by the question. "Bout forty minutes -forty-five — fifty - somewheres in there.'
'So that would make it - let me see - starting from seven o'clock with ten minutes to go home, an hour at home, & some forty-five minutes to come into town - about nine o'clock when you got here. Is that correct?'
RW hesitated.
'Is that correct?' Mr Jamison's voice was sharp.
'Yeah ... Yeah, I guess so.'
Mr Jamison nodded. 'Can you describe your truck to us?'
'What's that got to do with anything?'
'Just describe the truck please.'
'It looks 'bout like any other 'round here.'
'But if it were parked with fifty others, you'd know it?'
'Course I'd know it.'
'How?'
RW fidgeted just a bit in his chair, glanced at the people watching him, & answered. 'It's a old Model T — don't know the year. It's black mostly & kinda beat up, with a right blue fender.'
'A right blue fender?' questioned Mr Jamison.
RW smiled. 'Yeah, me & Melvin started to paint it one time & we run outa paint.'
The spectators laughed. Mr Jamison smiled as well. 'A very distinctive truck then,' he said. 'One most likely not to be confused with any other, wouldn't you say?'
The grin left RW's face. 'Reckon not.'
Mr Jamison again turned his back to RW & lowered his head as if in deep thought, then faced him again. 'What would you say if I told you that I have a man here who says he saw that distinctive truck of yours with its blue fender parked near the Barnett Mercantile on the night of August twenty-fifth, a few minutes after eight o'clock, an hour before you said you & your brother were in town. Just what would you say to that?'
Talking swelled in the courtroom as people discussed this new possibility. Judge Havershack's gavel brought silence once more. The judge looked down at RW, who had lost all coloring, then pointed an accusing finger at Mr Jamison. There you go with that suppositioning again, Wade. Now you got such a witness?' There was a pause before Mr Jamison answered. 'I have," he said.
'Some lying nigger, no doubt,' accused RW, his eyes flashing angrily.
'No,' said Mr Jamison calmly, then nodded to the center of the courtroom. 'Mr Justice Overton.'
All eyes in the courtroom turned to a slight, bald man dressed in a dark suit & looking quite respectable amidst his peers. For a moment all was quiet.
Then RW stood up, hat in hand, the color returning to his face in an angry red, & pointed accusingly at Mr Jamison. 'I knows what you tryin' to do, Wade Jamison! I knows it & everybody else here knows it! You're a nigger in white skin, that's what you are. Fact, you worse than a nigger -'
Judge Havershack beat his gavel against the table, but RW paid no attention.
'You went 'gainst your own kind supportin' them niggers in their wagoning up to Vicksburg last spring, & here you supportin' 'em now. All you wants is to get your niggers off"! You don't care what lies you spread 'bout decent white folks -'
'Now, RW, I'm not going to have this,' threatened Judge Havershack. 'You remember where you are.'
'I remembers all right & I jus' wanna say this.' He turned to the jury. 'What kinda country is this when a white man's gotta defend hisself 'gainst a nigger? Huh? I jus' wants to know that? Well, I ain't sayin' no more. I done said the truth, & if a white man can't believe that over what that lyin' nigger said, then , . .' Once again his eyes fell upon Mr Jamison. 'He jus' might as well be a nigger his own self.'
Mr Justice Overton was called, & Melvin Simms recalled. Then Mr Jamison made his summation, pleading to the jury to be merciful & reminding them that a verdict of guilty with no recommendation for clemency would result in the death penalty. 'You have heard the testimonies of all the witnesses involved,' he said. 'You have heard Mrs Barnett admit her doubt that TJ was the one person who struck her husband, thereby killing him. You have heard TJ's account of what happened. You have heard him tell you that his accomplices that night were not black, as Mr Macabee contends, but RW & Melvin Simms. You have heard as well, from both RW & Melvin Simms, that they had spent considerable time with TJ & that they were with him that night. You have heard from Reverend Gabson that he heard the Simmses tell TJ to come into Strawberry with them the night of the murder to get the pearl-handled gun. & you have heard the testimony of Mr Justice Overton that he saw the Simmses' truck parked in back of the Mercantile an hour before RW & Melvin Simms said they were in town.'
Mr Jamison walked the length of the jury box looking at each juror in turn.
'TJ Avery has confessed to what he has done. But I ask each of you, what really is his crime? He followed two white men blindly. They told him to break into the Mercantile & he did as he was told. Now whose fault is that? Haven't we always demanded that Negroes do as they are told? Haven't we always demanded their obedience?' He waited as if for an answer before going on. 'If we teach them to follow us in what we deem is good, isn't it logical that they should follow our lead into what is not good? We demand they follow us docilely, & if they should dare to disobey, we punish them for their disobedience, as Melvin & RW punished TJ by beating him. TJ murdered no one.
His guilt lies more in his gullibility, in his belief that two white men cared about him, than in anything else.
'If you are asking yourselves, did the Simmses actually play a part in all of this, ask yourselves, Why would TJ lie about it? He is a black boy. The men of this jury are white. The man who was killed was white. Why would TJ accuse white men of being part of the break-in that night, of being the actual murderers, when this very accusation could turn you against him? Why? Because, gentlemen, it is the truth.' He searched their faces & repeated, 'It is the truth ..."
Mr Macabee's plea to the jury demanded that they remember that the murder of a fine, upstanding citizen had been committed & that that, above all else, had to be the deciding factor, not the age of the defendant, the color of his skin, or the color of the man murdered. He said all that & the jury heard all that, but I didn't believe for one minute that he believed it or the jury did. But they nodded & left to cast their votes.
The spectators stood & stretched. Some left the courtroom & came outside; most stayed, waiting. The boys & I joined the people on the ground & stood near the old man still sitting at the foot of the tree. None of us said anything as we avoided looking at each other, afraid our fear would be seen, until Christopher-John adamantly declared: 'But TJ ain't killed nobody! He ain't!' Stacey put his hand on Christopher-John's neck & brought him near, but said nothing. There was nothing to say now.
'Well, what did you think of that nigger's story in there?' We looked around. A group of white farmers stood nearby dividing a chaw of tobacco.
'Aw, it's just nigger talk,' scoffed one of them. 'Like RW said, the nigger was lyin'.'
'Yeah ... well, most likely,' said another. 'But I knows Justice Overton to be a fine & upright man, & he wouldn't be lyin' on nobody deliberate.'
'Yeah. Yeah, know that. But he was mos' likely jus' mistaken this time ... jus' thought he seen that truck.'
'Yeah ... mos' likely ... I reckon ..."
Stacey moved us away.
'Stacey, what you think, huh?' I whispered. 'What you think?'
Stacey looked up at the courthouse. 'It's bad, Cassie. That's all I know.'
'Stacey Logan! Is that you?'
We turned & found Mrs Wade Jamison standing before us. She was a plump woman in her fifties & was dressed soberly in a dark-blue suit & hat. Although we saw her seldom, we had no trouble recognizing her, for she had one gray eye & one brown one, & a smile that seemed always to be tugging at her lips.
'Wade told me your papa said he wasn't coming in for the trial. Where is he?'

Christopher-John, Little Man, & I looked to Stacey to answer, but he didn't. He was staring at Mrs Jamison, resentment in his face. Moe, Clarence, & Little Willie stood to the side saying nothing; Mrs Jamison had not addressed them.
'I said where is he?' she repeated. When she still received no answer, she gazed down at us, suspicion in her double-colored eyes. 'Don't tell me he's not here?' We neither confirmed nor denied this. Her expression hardened. 'Stacey, how'd you come?' Stacey waited, the resentment still there, then said: 'Wagon.' 'Whose wagon?' 'Friend's.'
'Your folks know you here?'
Stacey glared at her, showing her he felt it was no business of hers. 'We had to see TJ was all.'
'And your folks think y'all at school? Lord, Lord! They must be plumb out of their minds with worry 'bout you all ... or leastways they will be before long. How you getting home?' 'Same way we come.'
'By wagon? It'll be way past this little one's bedtime by then.' She put out her hand to touch Little Man's face. He stepped back, away from her. Mrs Jamison sighed deeply, looking at all of us, & went back into the courthouse. A few seconds later Mr Jamison appeared in a courtroom window & stuck out his head. 'Stacey!' he summoned. Stacey looked up & walked over.
'After the verdict's in, all of you wait for me. I'll take you home.'
'We got a way home.'
'Not a way that'll get you there before your folks start getting worried.'
'There's seven of us & we got a ride with folks waiting on us.'
Mr Jamison glanced past Stacey to Moe, Little Willie, & Clarence. He had been around their families enough to know who they were. He nodded. 'You can all squeeze in. Tell your friends in the wagon to go on.'
'What 'bout the Averys? Won't they need a ride back?' They're staying in town tonight. They want to be near TJ' He started to turn away from the window. Stacey stopped him.

'Mr Jamison, how much longer?'
Mr Jamison looked out at the sun, low on the horizon. 'The longer it takes, the better. Let's hope ..." He did not finish. 'Now, you all wait,' he said, & left the window.
We did not have to wait long. In less than thirty minutes the jury returned. The vote poll was taken. Twelve men on the jury. Twelve votes of guilty. There was to be no mercy. TJ received the death penalty.
Mrs Avery screamed. The courtroom erupted in sporadic clapping. Judge Havershack ordered immediate silence, then thanked the jury members for their fine service & dis-missed them. TJ he remanded to the hands of Sheriff Dobbs to be taken at the first opportunity to the state penitentiary at Parchman. Then he stood, adjourning the court, & left. The white courtgoers spilled from the building. Mr & Mrs Avery, Reverend Gabson, Mr Silas Lanier, & the others stayed seated in their tiny corner until beckoned by Mr Jamison to come forward.
TJ still sat in the courtroom. He showed no emotion at all, not crying, not talking. When he had stood for the verdict, he had looked as if he had not heard it and, since he had sat again, had not moved. Now as his mother reached him, throwing her arms around him & crying as she had done the night he had been almost lynched, it must have hit him that he had been found guilty, for he let out a mournful yelp like a wounded animal, hunted, captured, & now about to die. We couldn't watch anymore.
'Little Man, Christopher-John, Cassie, go on down,' Stacey said. We obeyed him & he followed with Moe, Little Willie, & Clarence.
'Yeah, jus' like I figured,' said the old man who had sat under i he tree throughout the ordeal. Trial or lynching, it always be's the same. Sho' is. Always the same ..."
Mr Jamison came out from the courthouse & over to where we were. His face was drawn & his eyes bloodshot. 'We can go now,' he said.
'Mr Jamison,' said Stacey, his voice sounding hoarse, 'we- we wanna see TJ 'fore we go.' He paused as Mr Jamison studied him. 'We gotta do that.'
Mr Jamison nodded toward the corner of the courthouse. They'll be bringing him out that side door to take him back to jail.'
We went - Stacey, Christopher-John, Little Man, Moe Turner, Clarence Hopkins, Little Willie Wiggins, & I - to the door to wait. Others waited there too, curious to see the prisoner. Shortly the door opened & Sheriff Dobbs & Deputy Sheriff Haynes came out. TJ was between them. There were irons on his ankles now, making him shuffle when he walked, & his hands had been cuffed behind him, making him look even more like the prisoner he was.
Stacey cleared his throat. 'Hey, TJ,' he said. At first there was no response from TJ His head was lowered; his eyes saw no one.
'TJ It's Stacey. We all come ...'
Slowly, TJ raised his head. The dark eyes brightened in recognition, & for a moment the smile that had once come so easily flashed across his face, making me forget how much I had disliked this frail, frightened boy. Before any more could be said, Deputy Sheriff Haynes shoved his way through the crowd, taking TJ with him. Looking back over his shoulder at us, TJ smiled one last time, then the smile & he were gone as he bowed his head & walked on. Tears stung my eyes & he blurred before me.
We were never to see TJ again.

A summer's reading: The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

The Book Thief is set in Nazi Germany before & during WWII. It describes Liesel Meminger’s relationship with her foster parents, Hans & Rosa, & the other residents of their neighborhood, & a Jewish fist-fighter who hides in their home.
The story is told from the point of view of Death who finds Liesel Meminger interesting as she brushes Death three times in her life.

This is a very big book - over 500 pages.
However it didn't need to be this long.
It's a good story but poorly told - the book is a bit of a mess. Many sections of it do not work.
The narrator often spoils the story by telling us things ahead of time. This is supposed to wet our appetities and/or to prepare us for hard news, but it is largely irritating.

It makes me suspect that the story - if told chronologically - would add up to nothing - and so the narrator has to play around with chronology in order to keep our interest.

The ending is a let down - what happened to Max? We know he reunites with Liesel but do they become a couple? Do they marry and resettle in Austrialia - or does Liesel find another partner later on?

But most of all the book angered me because it is another story of passive jews during the holocaust.
They either hide out like rats or they suffer mistreatment like rats.
Where is the defiance? Where is the fight-back.

Were the Jews really so passive and spineless?
I think of Gandhi's passive resistance to the British rule and I see bravery, defiance, resistance.
I think of Martin Luther King and the Civil Rights Movement and and I see bravery, defiance, resistance.
I think of the enslaved Africans in the American South and the Caribbean and I see bravery, defiance, resistance.

Are there really no stories of bravery, defiance, resistance when it comes to the Jews of the 1930s/40s? Is this why the Jews of Israel are so antagonistic towards the Palestinians? Did the lack of bravery, defiance, resistance, for all those years, turn them into savage, brutal oppressors?

BBC TV series: Sherlock - seasons 1 & 2

Friday, July 30, 2010 I wrote:

"Sherlock - BBC TV Series - Episode 1

Wow! I loved it. Brilliant casting, brilliant script, brilliant dialogue, brilliant acting.
I was captivated the whole time!

Cumberbatch was a revelation. I'd never rated him before - except in Small Island - but he's really come of age in this!

Wow!

Can't wait for the next episode."

Now, over two years later I'm still a compulsive fan.
I've watched all six episodes endlessly - not to mention viewing over 40 of the Sherlock fanvids on youtube. Not a day goes by without some Sherlock intake.

I spent Easter 2012 re-reading every Sherlock Holmes story by Arthur Conan Doyle. I'd have re-read Julian Barnes' 'Arthur & George' but I'd lent it someone, now dead to me, who never bothered to return the book.

Perhaps that's why I was driven to watching the films starring Robert Downey Jr as Sherlock Holmes.
Wasn't impressed with the first film, at first (though I loved Mark Strong). Loved the second film immediately and re-watched the first - which I grew to love - mainly because of Lestrade. I wanted more Lestrade in the second film.
Loved Jared Harris.

Now I can't wait for 'Elementary' - largely because I've loved all three main cast members for years. It will be interesting to see what the Americans do with Sherlock.

But most of all I can't wait for Gatiss & Moffat to come up with series 3 for the BBC!

A summer's reading: The Road to Memphis by Mildred Taylor (1990)

Having taught 'A Roll of Thunder' for a number of years I took the first chance I had to read her short stories - which amazingly came later. I say amazingly because they were dire in comparison to the earlier novel. Very contrived. If they'd been earlier I'd have understood the progression as a writer - but it wasn't so.

Anyway - perhaps they'd been written earlier and some greedy publisher had put them out after the success of 'Roll of Thunder...?

I decided to give Taylor a second chance by reading 'The Road to Memphis'

The novel’s main action is triggered by a racist incident in the Mississippi town of Strawberry. When Cassie & Stacey Logan & their friends, Little Willie, Moe, & Clarence, stop at a local garage to repair the tyre of a high status car recently purchased by a young black man - they're asking for trouble, right? And they get it in spades. Three white brothers harass Moe. He loses his temper & severely beats all three young men with a tyre wrench. The white Jeremy Simms (even though it is his cousins who lie injured) helps Moe escape Strawberry & certain lynching, & drives him to Jackson to meet Stacey, Cassie, Little Willie, & Clarence. Moe’s friends realize that Moe isn’t safe anywhere in the South & decide to drive through the night to Memphis, where they will put him on a train to Chicago.

The trip to Memphis is filled with dangerous situations, & the headaches that Clarence has been complaining about get so bad that the group has to leave Clarence with a healing woman on the road to Memphis. Eventually they get to Memphis & put Moe on a train to Chicago. While Stacey, Cassie, & Little Willie are in Memphis, Clarence dies from a brain haemorrhage, so the three friends return home grieving over the loss of two of their good friends: Clarence dead & Moe in exile in the North.

Back in Strawberry, in the presence of the sheriff, his father, & his racist cousins, Jeremy Simms confesses that he helped Moe escape, & Charlie Simms beats Jeremy & then disowns him.

The novel concludes with a bittersweet reunion at the Logan home, interrupted by Jeremy, who has come to say good-bye to the Logans before he enlists in the military, following the outbreak of WWII.

The summary makes it sound better than it actually is. There are some very annoying and unconvincing characters (Clarence's pregnant girlfriend) and then there are some downright unbelievable characters (the black journalist from the north who settles in the south) and some very unconvincing writing - anything to do with love relationships and sexual attraction.

However I'm glad I read the novel and have been sufficient intrigued, by passing references to earlier events, to read the novel that comes after 'Roll of Thunder' and before 'The Road to Memphis'. This novel is called 'Let the Circle Be Unbroken'.
Not available in any Coventry library or bookshop - unless I put in a special order for over £7. So I purchased it from ebay - £2.95 including post & packaging.

A summer's reading: The Death Defying Pepper Roux - Geraldine McCaughrean

When Pepper Roux was born his sadistic, but seemingly pious Aunt Mireille, foretold, after seeing a vision from St Constance, that he would not live past 14 years of age. Consequently, throughout his childhood his parents haven't bothered with this ‘le pauvre’ much, knowing that his life would be short-lived. But when Pepper wakes up on his 14th birthday, believing that this will be the day that he'll die, he decides to set off to sea in an attempt to avoid death for as long as possible.

As time goes on Pepper steps into many roles and personas all in his endeavour to stay one step ahead of death.
Pepper hides out in other people's identities. He becomes his own father – a drunken sea captain – a telegram boy, a Carmargue "guardian", a journalist and a foreign legionnaire. He meets sailors, scamsters, prostitutes and a cross-dressing first mate. But no matter where he goes, Death is always just around the corner.

The book is a brilliant blend of the dark and deep, as well as the lightly comic. "People see what they expect to see, don't they?" is a constant reference in the book.

It's a blend of Harry Potter, I Am David and one or two other stories for young adults. But it does achieve a unique voice. I was haunted my it until I took a weekend off to just curl up and complete the book in one sitting.

Brilliant!

Purple Hibiscus

It rained heavily the day Ade Coker died, a strange, furious rain in the middle of the parched harmattan. Ade Coker was at breakfast with his family when a courier delivered a package to him. His daughter, in her primary school uniform, was sitting across the table from him. The baby was nearby, in a high chair. His wife was spooning Cerelac into the baby's mouth. Ade Coker was blown up when he opened the package - a package anyone would have known was from the Head of State even if his wife Yelande had not said that Ade Coker looked at the envelope and said 'It has the State House seal' before he opened it.
When Jaja and I came home from school, we were almost drenched by the walk from the car to the front door; the rain was so heavy it had formed a small pool beside the hibiscuses. My feet itched inside my wet leather sandals. Papa was crumpled on a sofa in the living room, sobbing. He seemed so small.
Papa who was so tall that he sometimes lowered his head to get through doorways, that his tailor always used extra fabric to sew his trousers. Now he seemed small; he looked like a rumpled roll of fabric.
"I should have made Ade hold that story," Papa was saying. "I should have protected him. I should have made him stop that story.”
Mama held him close to her, cradling his face on her chest. "No," she said. "O zugo. Don't.”
Jaja and I stood watching. I thought about Ade Coker's glasses, I imagined the thick, bluish lenses shattering, the white frames melting into sticky goo. Later, after Mama told us what had happened, how it had happened, Jaja said, "It was God's will, Papa," and Papa smiled at Jaja and gently patted his back.
Papa organized Ade Coker's funeral; he set up a trust for Yewande Coker and the children, bought them a new house. He paid the Standard staff huge bonuses and asked them all to take a long leave. Hollows appeared under his eyes during those weeks, as if someone had suctioned the delicate flesh, leaving his eyes sunken in.
My nightmares started then, nightmares in which I saw Ade Coker's charred remains spattered on his dining table, on his daughters school uniform, on his baby's cereal bowl, on his plate of eggs. In some of the nightmares, I was the daughter and the charred remains became Papa’s.
Weeks after Ade Coker died, the hollows were still carved under Papa's eyes, and there was a slowness in his movements, as though his legs were too heavy to lift, his hands

Extract from p206-7

Comment on how the writer has used language to create tension, imagery & to foreshadow events in the novel.
Focus on:
Sentence structures
Repeated ideas
Metaphorical imagery
Other devices
Emotive language
Narrative voice