Ritual in Literary Spaces

When news broke that Nobel Laureate Toni Morrison passed away, I slipped into pastor mode. I took a class in divinity school on rituals.  Rituals are an important part of life.  Marriage, graduation, birthdays are all forms of rituals.  Rituals mark transition.  Rituals are important.

I felt Toni Morrison's passing required some kind of ritual.  On my Facebook feed, I saw people lamenting her death.  The literary community that I circle in was truly mourning.  So, I organized a tribute, asking some awesome writers to participate (photo above, starting with back row: Jervey Tervalon, Gary Philips, Nina Revoyr, Lisa Teasley, Michael Datcher, Terry Wolverton, Lynell George; front row: me, Dana Johnson, Natasha Deon).

At Skylight Books, we discussed the work of Toni Morrison and what she meant to us, then we read passages from her novels.  It was an awesome turnout.  I was thrilled that Walter Mosley (Devil in a Blue Dress) showed up.

At the end of the reading, I did feel a sense of closure. I don't know about anyone else, but I felt this literary ritual was an important one to have.

Beloved Toni Morrison

I read Beloved, Song of Solomon, Tar Baby and Sula within two years. There was something about her voice that inspired me.  There was a rhythm and a style in her work that transported me. Her dedication to exploring African American life was a model for how I would explore various communities that I identified with.  

In 1993, when I first started studying writing, my writing teacher Ayofemi Folayan was ecstatic.  

"Toni Morrision won the Nobel Prize!" she said.

"Cool," I said, but I was hiding the fact that I was unfamiliar with her and her work.  If she won the Nobel Prize, I guess I should know who she is.  I started with her master piece Beloved, the tale of a black woman who kills her children rather than have them become slaves. 

I didn't know such story telling could exist.  I became a different person, a better writer because of her. Thank you.

Reading Joan Didion: Being Awake in the 1980's

I'd been reading lots of nonfiction, particulary about writers writing about their own lives or providing their own spin on things (pop culture, politics, etc.)  In the past six months, I've read Jeanette Winterson, David Sedaris, Augustin Burroughs, William Styron and Anne Lamotte.  It's great reading about how writers have lead their lives, leading them to the books they write today.

I'm finishing up Joan Didion's After Henry, a book of essays that was published in the early 1990's.  Most of what she writes about is Los Angeles in the 1980's.  I consider the 1980's an important time in my life.  I went through junior high, high school and college in that decade, all of that time in Los Angeles.  Our view of our city at that time is drastically different.

Joan Didion was (is) a mature, astute artist, writing about environment, politics, history.  I was, well, an adolescent growing into young adulthood--my head was in a totally different space.   Reading After Henry, gave me an alternate reality of someone else living in the same city at the same time.  It was truly illuminating, and I loved it.

What is also did was reinforce my own Voice as a writer, because I'm contributing something else.  In these pages, Joan Didion doesn't write about AIDS, that horrible disease that came to light in the 1980's that was an iconic marker in gay history.  Nor does she write about the fall of the Marcos regime, one that influenced the lives of Filipinos all over the world.  Both of these events had influenced me, shaping my world view.

I read that Toni Morrison wanted to write stories that wouldn't have been written if it weren't for her.  Me, too!  It was great reading about Joan Didion's Los Angeles.  Now, I'm going to write about my Los Angeles.  What will you write that no one else is saying?