I've never read classic American detective novels before. But I can say that having this novel be my first taste of what the genre has to offer did not leave my disappointed. I will be frank in saying that it possesses just as many stereotypes as you would expect: a masculine "manly-man" detective, subservient maiden who is actually a villainess, ruthless gangsters, and bumbling police officers. But it is within these stereotypes that a classically entertaining mystery unfolds. The maltese falcon is an ancient figurine in the shape of a small bird covered in fine jewels that several people are determined to claim as their own. Sam Spade, San Francisco detective, finds himself caught up in the drama and inner workings of several individuals' attempts to locate this treasure, investigating murders and a mysteriously attractive Brigid O'Shaughnessy along the way. One of the recurring themes of this novel is never trusting completely what seems to be plain and simple, thus keeping readers actively wondering who and what is viable. I certainly enjoyed this book, even though its somewhat overworked descriptions and lack of perceptual subjectivity with  characters differs from the more concise language and writing styles used in most novels today. I must say that the certain sophistication of books from the 1930s and such have a quality that is much more fun to read than it might seem. 


Of the sometimes overworked details in this book, these two lines stood out to me as prime examples of superior figurative language to incorporate into my own writing:

"His eyes were shiny in a wooden satan's face."

"Her eyes were cobalt-blue prayers."

This novel is about a concept that the world is still fighting to rectify - not only racism as a whole, but police brutality. When Starr Carter is driving home from a party with her childhood friend Khalil, she becomes the witness of his death at the hands of a white police officer. The officer had no reason to shoot, (let alone three times in his back), but he killed Khalil after mistaking his hairbrush for a gun. The book deals with themes of racism, social and cultural class separations, and racial bias -- all issues that have been discussed in thousands of other works throughout the course of time. The book doesn't have to try to convince us that racism and police brutality exist. Everyone is already well aware of that. What made this book stand out the most to me was how it uniquely approaches how we are supposed to respond to these themes. What are we supposed to do in the face of these overwhelming concepts? Are we called to stand up when we have the means to do so even though the stakes are high and the odds low? Starr is told that her voice is her weapon. She doubts the truth of this sentiment several times before agreeing to be represented by an attorney and speak on Khalil's behalf to have the white officer charged for murder. And even then she still doubts if any real change is occurring. I know that I have definitely doubted the power that words can have in scenarios. But choosing to use the words that we've got anyways is a kind of bravery that makes beating these racial issues actually seem possible. Even when the court decides not to convict the officer, Starr's decision to continue using her voice and perspective as a witness is uplifting. There comes a point where she realizes that she is speaking not only for Khalil, but for her people as a whole and the countless others shot at the sides of police cars. I finished the book with this question running through my head: If Starr's voice is her weapon, does that mean that my voice is a weapon too? I believe that the answer is yes. Being a white female, I have a different kind of weapon. Like how a bow and arrow is different than a gun, voices housing different perspectives have their own strengths and power. I have a voice that can appeal to certain kinds of people, whether or not I am completely aware of the privileges I possess or not. I have a voice that can speak on experiences foreign to others, a voice that can attempt to bring the most peace and enlightenment in its own way while not compromising the voices and views of others. I hope that in my writings as well as everyday conversations, my voice is tapping into its arsenal's full strength and power in appropriate ways. I recommend this book to absolutely everybody, even those who wouldn't really call themselves readers, because it's a story that can be applied so relevantly to our present times. It's an eye-opening, culturally-shocking, entertaining read that I can honestly say changed me in multiple ways. 


Some of my favorite quotes from The Hate U Give:

"Sometimes you can do everything right and things will still go wrong. The key is to never stop doing right."

"What's the point of having a voice if you're gonna be silent in those moments you shouldn't be?"

"Brave doesn't mean you're not scared, Starr. It means you go on even though you're scared. And you're doing that."

"I knew the whole Khalil. That's who I've been speaking up for. I shouldn't deny any part of him."

"You can destroy wood and brick, but you can't destroy a movement."

"Once upon a time there was a hazel-eyed boy with dimples. I called him Khalil. The world called him a thug. He lived, but not nearly long enough, and for the rest of my life I'll remember how he died."

This is the kind of play that makes you question what the American Dream looks like from different racial and socioeconomic standpoints. It is a play that makes you think about life for African Americans in the 1950s specifically through one family: the Youngers. Living in South side Chicago, struggling to make ends meet and dreaming of better days in a nicer house, this family receives $10,000 from an insurance check following the death of Big Walter, a father, grandfather, and husband to the various characters. This money brings hope for the family: the opportunities that seemed far out of reach before may actually be attainable now. But soon we see that this money is also corruptible. It causes tension, rash decisions, and betrayal that threatens to tear the family apart for good. Set right on the brink of the Civil Rights Movement, this play is culturally charged by characters struggling to find and earn their place within a country tainted with racism. In all, this play was enjoyable in so many ways. As I have already discussed, it makes you think outside of yourself and reexamine the luxuries we may not even realize are luxuries. It is written beautifully; the dialogue is in no way forced, and each character comes to life on the page in their own way. This play also examines the themes of ambition, racism, assimilation, and the power of familial love in the face of oppression and uncertainty. I especially liked the open-ended way that the play concludes. I felt like while it was infused with hope and opportunity, it was realistic in showing its audience how the Youngers' future is uncertain; they will have to work even harder than they have before to be able to make the life for themselves that they want. But, unlike the play's title that alludes to a Langston Hughe poem, there is possibility for the family's dreams to flourish rather than wither like raisins in the sun. 


Some of my favorite lines from A Raisin in the Sun:

"Once upon a time freedom used to be life -- now it's money. I guess the world really do change."

"Then isn't there something wrong in a house -- in a world -- where all dreams, good or bad, must depend on the death of a man?"

"There is always something left to love. And if you ain't learned that, you ain't learned nothing."

"Child, when do you think is the time to love somebody the most? ... Make sure you done taken into account what hills and valleys he come through before he got to wherever he is."

​"Seem like God didn't see fit to give the black man nothing but dreams -but He did give us children to make them dreams seem worth while."

This novel is definitely the most sophisticated romantic book I have ever read. I've got to be honest, though -- it definitely wasn't my favorite. Regardless, I did enjoy many parts of this book. The character development was very sound, especially because the events of the book jump around in time. The relationship between Annika and Jonathan could never be labeled as shallow, as it spans over years and even the terrorist attacks of 9/11. But I found this very deep development of the relationship to make the book as a whole very slow. I had trouble getting into it and really investing in the characters because I felt like I was still trying to get to know them. Throughout the entire book, I was waiting for some sort of large event to happen. Instead, Annika and Jonathan have a gradual falling out, which I found to be disappointing. What I was anticipating to come earlier is actually what ends the entire book: Annika's twelve-hour drive to New York to search for Jonathan, who was injured while inside of the South Tower when it went down. I guess I would have just structured the plot differently if I were the writer. But Tracey Garvis Graves does an excellent job of portraying the unconditional kind of love that we all hope to find for ourselves through Annika and Jonathan's relationship. She realistically portrays the difficulties of understanding human interaction from a high-functioning autistic perspective, and alongside of this, shows how people who see the world differently actually have a great amount of wisdom and knowledge to offer the rest of us. In all, Annika and Jonathan's story is a realistic one. 

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Some of my favorite quotes from The Girl He Used to Know:

"Reading transported me to exotic locales, fascinating periods in history, and worlds that were vastly different from my own."

"All my life, I'd been waiting for someone I could be myself with. It had never occurred to me that I could be that person for someone else."

"... I don't think there's any way to truly know whether someone is kind until you put your trust in them and show them kindness of your own."