Louisiana Books

Between Nothingness and Paradise explores the nihilism at the heart of totalitarian ideologies. These 'total critiques of society' either negate the present for an unseen but hoped for future or wish to bring about the end of history in favor of nature (something before good and evil -- a world of clever animals, I suppose). The two approaches are not mutually exclusive and come together in interesting ways in Marx. Common to both systems is the condemnation of everything that exists (human nature, morality, the current existing order) as false, unreal and oppressive, not needing reform but requiring annihilation/destruction in the vain hope for something completely other than what is.

These types of radical negation of the present make even the possibility of goodness impossible -- sense a good life can only be lived in the present. Making the current lives of individuals (their happiness and value) meaningless and require giving-up or forfeiting in order to achieve contentment (content slaves, I guess) that will only come when man is made new.

The book deals not just with intellectual contemplative theory but also with actions that lend support and give rise to totalitarianism. Gerhart Niemeyer says " Totalitarianism would not be possible in practice if it were not for a long period of intellectual erosion preceding the advent of the activist". The average man must accept in-part the views (about reality and ethics etc..) that come to annihilate him. Once our historical past, that which gives our present actions and reality meaning (by being a part of the transcendent/eternal) has been deconstructed -- seen to be totally false and oppressive etc.. there is nothing left to hold society together there is no common ground.

Anyone could profit from reading this book -- even people like myself that no-doubt missed and misunderstood allot can gain much.

This novel is about Beulah, a woman who despite her chances to have a "perfect" life refuses to submit to convention. Much of the book focuses on philosophy as a justification for her position and at other times a condemnation of her actions. A wonderful read for the deep thinker. Definitely not beach reading....

Vicki Covington is one of my favorite writers and this is perhaps her best work to date. I know it is my favorite. Set in modern day Alabama, this is a wonderfully written story of simple people with normal problems. If you have ever read anything by Vicki, you will know that she treats all of her characters and her readers with respect. Her characters seem so real, her tales are so intriguing, but above all, she never resorts to overt vulgarity like some writers who think it is neccessary to shock their reader to keep their attention. Vicki has taste, talent, imagination, and has honed her writing skill to perfection.

BLACK AMERICANS AND ORGANIZED LABOR is by far the most comprehensive, most coherent, and best-documented work on the subject. Moreno's command of the relevant literature is outstanding, and his detective work in locating many obscure but important sources is impressive.

Even better, Moreno approaches the subject without the leftist ideological baggage that burdens most other writers in the field and with a good grasp of relevant economic concepts. In particular, he understands that contrary to illusory notions of innate worker solidarity, individual workers and groups of workers have widely varying economic interests. He holds no romantic or ideological illusions about labor unions; he understands that their basic economic goal is to create a labor cartel for their members' benefit.

Another impressive feature of this book is that Moreno, unlike many historians, does not treat black workers and the black people more generally as passive bit players in a larger class conflict between "capital" and "labor." Nor, unlike many historians, does he pay disproportionate attention to the relatively few examples of racially egalitarian unions in the pre-New Deal period, which some historians use as purported exemplars of the true spirit of labor solidarity. Rather, he properly treats African Americans as striving as best they can to promote their individual and collective well-being in a hostile economic and social environment.

Stephen Sandy's BLACK BOX is a stunning book, just a wonderful collection. It's comic and serious by turns; intelligent and passionate too. I totally agree with John Ashbery's comment. Ashbery writes: "There is a new wonder at the delight and desolation of everything in Stephen Sandy's BLACK BOX, and how it's all being rolled up together provides us with a sustaining space to pass our lives in. Humor, joy, accurately-dosed pinches of pity and terror make this new living arrangement a strange treasure." And that wonderful Southern writer Kelly Cherry, too. She wrote, "Black Box is completely terrific. Wonderfully intelligent, unpredictable, and most of all, passionate." How can anyone get ready for Y2K without this book?

James Sallis is simply one of our best, living writers. And this slender book is a delight to read. Once again, Lew Griffin is plunged into the criminal world, this time murders in 1960s New Orleans. White people are being picked off by a sniper including a beautiful reporter whom Griffin has just gotten to know. With racial tensions at the burning point, and with suspicions that the sniper is an African-American, Griffin finds himself walking a tightrope between a radical Black organization and white police officers. Drenched in booze and books, Griffin is at times lost, at times securely in control. The dialogue is crisp, the characters real. Bravo!

Kathryn Byer's BLACK SHAWL follows the thread of her earlier prize-winning WILDWOOD FLOWER, that is, it remains fascinated by the lives of women in the southern mountains. Whereas the earlier book presented the voice of one woman named Alma, this latest book gathers up the voices of many women, most of them singers, quilters, story-tellers. The poems weave Byer's distinctive music into every line, creating a verbal tapestry that haunts long after one has closed the book. Byer is one of the country's best poets and deserves a far wider readership. Highly recommended.

BLESSINGS AND INCLEMENCIES, Constance Merritt's second published collection of poetry, is best read aloud so the cadences and the rhythms may swirl from the tongue through the ears to reverberate in the mind. Let the echoes and caprices of memories, nature, and classical gods linger.

"Isn't it the naming that we love" the poet wonders, and surely the verses in
Prologue: Song: At the Edge of the Sea,
I. Requiem,
II. Among Shades: A Fragment,
III. Turning: A Sequence, and
Epilogue: Chamber Music
give both beatific and remorseful tribute to this very human current of desire.

"Charon plies his oars. Sweat glistens / On his grizzled brow..." as Merritt steers out into deep waters of loss. "Don't go and leave me stranded on this shore," she entreats. She rages against the inevitability of the deaths of loved ones and pounds the notion that the guiding hand of an Almighty can make all things well: "Let others justify / the ways of God to men; she never would / She'd already stood the s.o.b. on trial."

Yet the mourning poet is yet here, not turning to loam, so "At three o'clock, I wake to rain" and "...know it is I who will labor to be born." Then "...the lengthening light, the robin's song / That wakes me... / (For the first time in my life I want to see!)." Merritt is, after all, a sightless poet, and, as the blind do, she expands the reach and delicacy of her other senses. By way of illustration, she mingles her own poetry of heightened sensitivity with the verse of Hilda Raz: "My every organ sings you like a psalm: Sun, sun come to me here, come here I am."

In BLESSINGS AND INCLEMENCIES, beauty and poignancy consort with uncomforted mourning. Love answers every call on its own terms; but friends, family, and lovers whom death parts, but cannot be returned so..."Me, I'd like to think the rhythm moved / Us, until the dance, itself, was what we loved."

A brave, methodical, and ultimately musical excavation of spiritual image and the instinctive memory of family. Its resonance beyond subjectivity is its keen insight, allowing access and shared grief at the terrible wonder of human interconnectivity that invisibily shapes us. This is a voice that commands attention, in an era whose noisy carapace beggars worthy 'safe places' in which to process contemplation, if not healing.

I first read "Bobby Rex" some 12 years ago at the tender age of 12. At that time, it was one of the first non-classic grown-up books I'd read, and I found myself unable to believe that someone could capture such simplicity and depth in single sentences. I loved the book so much I even stole a copy of it from the local library (don't worry, i've more than payed for it in overdue fines throughout the years) because I couldn't stand the thought that someone else would check it out and never return it. But I digress... Why is it such a beautiful book? Because it speaks sweet, insightful and often hilarious volumes without falling all over itself the way so many writers do these days. It's the sort of book you read and then sit back and think, God, I could write that... because it's just like someone relating stories to you. Its the tale of a young girl, Pally Thompson, who over the course of 3 or 4 years discovers the truths and myths about those people with whom she surrounds herself. -- Marianne Gingher does an absolutely brilliant job of painting smalltown lives and loves during the latter part of the 1950's. She treats her characters, all of them (even those who may not deserve it) with respect and dignity. Never sacrificing even a single word, she allows her characters to grow and breathe and, perhaps most importantly, to learn. "Bobby Rex" is a novel of discovery. Rich and honest and oozing with charm.