Black Boy, by Richard Wright
I could write paragraphs upon paragraphs about this novel. About how I first read it, and the way I kept reading it over the course of years from childhood to adulthood. Wright has other books that people often mention such as Native Son but this is the one that altered my mindset on life, my race, the past, and the present.
Blood Meridian, by Cormac McCarthy
One of the most evocative and well written novels I've ever encountered. On the surface its a western about a band of Americans venturing out to hunt and scalp Native Americans. What you quickly realize is that it's truly about the nature of man, and how whether we shape and mold the world or whether the soul of man is bent by the world. Beautifully written, while simultaneously the most violent novel I've ever read. Many noteworthy directors have tried to turn it into a film but none have managed to get it into production. I truly think it's un-filmable.
The House On Mango Street, by Sandra Cisneros
One of many books that is being banned from schools right now. I first read it as a class assignment in high school. I hated the book. The way it was written, the characters, the confusing cultural aspects I couldn't relate to. But the process of reading this novel, and writing about it in class, and discussing it with my teacher and some of my female classmates, completely changed my perspective on women. Just thinking about it gives me chills because it felt like a lightning strike, or revelation of a perspective I had never truly respected or cared for until I was confronted about one of the more controversial events that happens in the book.
M.C. Higgins, The Great, by Virginia Hamilton
The first book I read as a child that made me consider that a story's meaning is not a linear recollection of events, and instead that events and actions can be interpreted differently. Metaphors. Foreshadowing. A young black boy, living in a rural town whose very existence is threatened by a mining company. Any day, a massive pile of rubble from the mine could fall and destroy his home. Why does he spend most of his time sitting on a 40 foot pole, high in the sky? Looking out far away from his home, wondering what else is out there. Dreaming of a different life as he observes the trees and roads miles away. Dreaming of escape.
Soul On Ice, By Eldridge Cleaver
A novel that made me contemplate many things, and confronted me with all types of ideas. Some I disagreed with vehemently, others which I found truth in. From a man many would deem deplorable. But a novel that also demonstrated the value of being confronted by ugliness, by reality, and by a flawed author/character.
funny thing is hes more known for his poetry
I only read Girls
