Showing posts with label Dominica. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dominica. Show all posts

Saturday, November 14, 2009

... "UNBURNABLE" ... a reader appreciation ...

... in two weeks it was over, I had read the whole novel ... not just the words, I followed the flow and felt the flesh between the fantasy, experiencing the author's efforts ... it had all been laid out before me, vivid characters with ancestral contexts that raised them above the realm of the merely well drawn ... the multi-generational subject matter is rooted as firmly in the layers of the past as it is in the 21st century here-and-now ...


... the book, set in Dominica and Washington D.C., is a first effort from Antigua's Marie-Elena John ... titled "Unburnable" it has been in print three or four years now ... recommendations came from more than one person ...

... written reviews I've seen are overwhelmingly positive ... were I to write one it would heavily skew towards the favourable too ... some testimonial anecdotes have referred to the plethora of characters and intersecting timelines as requiring back-referencing during the read ... this was not my experience ... I, famous for sometimes starting but not finishing a book, was compelled by the artful storytelling and entertained from beginning to very end, even when, at times, I was able to anticipate a plot turn ...

... now, books are great ... reading is good ... many of us actually combine the two on occasion and actually ... read books ... I was a keen reader as a boy ... historical chronology has me reading at three years old (!!), and indeed, one of the earliest memories I have is being taken to join the public library on Tom Redcam Drive in Kingston ... (Thomas MacDermot was a Jamaican writer from the turn of the previous century who encouraged local readers with local fare ... he published under the mischievously inverted surname pseudonym Tom Redcam) ...

... at a certain point in my life, probably when other things started to make demands on my time ... sports, girls, academic nonchalance ... it became acceptable to my set of personal standards to read fewer books .... I favoured newspapers and the picture-heavy, sexier kid-sister of the book known as the magazine ... the competition for my reduced time-allotted-for-reading now has to take the blogosphere into account as well ...

... my reading habits weren't pre-figured ... I was one of those students who enjoyed English Lit., Shakespeare, Chaucer, the entire axis of de rigeur Anglo-American literati ... Hemmingway, Hardy, Steinbeck ... who can forget To Kill A Mockingbird or The Crucible ... characters like Holden Caulfield ... and Dickens, it's a long list ... in my time we were also taught broad historical and geopolitical identifiers of our diversity but academic acceptance for homegrown authors and artists, barring a select few, was still in the process of being won ...

... true too is the admission that adolescent education of the libidinous sort found in Lady Chatterley's Lover, dog-eared, passed-around copies of Fanny Hill, or passages in parentally ratified blockbusters-of-the-day like Portnoy's Complaint, Valley Of The Dolls or Fear Of Flying, lured me away from Tolstoy and Tolkien ... in my imagination gulag and hobbit could never compete with gonad and hormone ....

... thankfully today there's a vibrant literary scene encompassing the whole "carry-beyond" and it's scattered bloodlines ... poets, novelists, playwrights, biographers and bloggers abound ... the beauty of a work like "Unburnable" is the seamless representation of so many factors in this reader's socialization ... Caribbean cultural themes replete with indigenous, African, European exposition, contemporized by concurrent doses of Diaspora featuring media-savvy lifestyles and BB texting ...

... we of the islands are known to be a matriarch driven social engine, and appropriately, the female characters in this book reflect a variety of strengths and authorities ... all have innate understanding of yoni power and how it can make the world ... and the men within it ... turn ... or burn ...

Friday, October 23, 2009

... "taliban" travelogue trilogy ... 1st gear ... Dominica ...

    I went for a ride in an all terrain pick-up, on an island I'd never been to before ...
    the mountains were steepled and shaggy, rivers and streams rushed to the shores ...

    this place is called Dominica ... not the republic where Spanish is spoke ...
    but the land where Johnny Depp made his film, the one about that pirate bloke ...

    Bully for Anita the Film-Commish, getting us shown at the borrowed French Hall ...
    there's no cinema here you know ... but, we'd have settled for a large blank white wall ...













  
 adults and schoolers loved our film and swore they'd invite us back ...
    encouraging me, while I was there, to sightsee off the beaten track ...

    my friend Lowell stepped up, with his knowledge of the lie-of-the-land ...
    he brought some friends and we set off, this intrepid impromptu band ...

    the girls rode up front with the driver, Ras Petros and I in the open-backed berth ...
    slalom style, windswept, carefree, brave sons of the earth ...

  
  this west-to-east cross-island drive, through misty low cloud and dew rain ... 
    tight-gripped and stagger-standing ... you'd have thought us insane ...

     well we were, in a way, as we ate up the fly-by view ...
    of the verdant landscape we found ourselves adventurously barrelling through ...

    
passing gardens, citrus orchards and many abundant plantations ...
    precipitous plunges, cascading streams and steep, steep inclinations ...

    emerging to the Atlantic, by delightfully named Rosalie ...
    on a bridge where another run-off riverbed meets the wide open sea ...














   on to La Plaine, our destination, the ancestral home of our guide ...
   what we visited around that district ... was more than worth the risky ride ...













    I walked in a Garden Of Eden, strolled on volcanic black sand ...
     and rode a green grotto rope swing, on Lowell's own plot of land ...













 
    it was a while before we got tired, sundown and chill signalling end of day ...
    we climbed aboard the trusty truck, once again on our way ...

    the return run to Roseau took us south before turning back west ...
    if we thought the first leg twisty, the second was a more tortuous test ...

  by the time night enveloped there was much less to see ...
    still, we made it back, thankfully intact, primed and ready for a cold Kubuli or three ...