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A review by kevin_shepherd
Gathering Blossoms Under Fire: The Journals of Alice Walker by Alice Walker
4.0
“How incredible in some ways it is to thirst for pen and paper, to need them, as if they were water.”
There is a point in the life arc of a prolific and talented author when the writer himself/herself becomes the story. Mark Twain, Langston Hughes, and James Baldwin come to mind. Studies are made on their technique. Courses are taught on their material. Biographies (authorized and unauthorized) are written on their lives. And, if the author kept such things, journals and diaries are published.
“People have called me brave so often that I almost believe it - if fear is brave I am brave.”
There is an intimacy in journals, if they’re written openly and honestly, that one does not find in biographies. This is not Alice Walker recounting and reflecting on things that happened fifty years ago. This is Alice Walker at that particular moment in time. A snapshot, if you will, of a fascinating life in progress.
The Alice Walker of the 1960s had convictions…
“…the South will rise again—but as a nation of men and not a lot of finky little Confederate flagwavers who don’t know Sherman from Grant.”
The Alice Walker of the 1970s had opinions…
“…Ayn Rand will forever be incompatible with black people.”
The Alice Walker of the 1980s had awareness (and a HUGE crush on Quincy Jones)…
“I finally admitted to myself how hurt and frustrated I am by some of the more vicious reviews. I find the unfairness particularly hard to bear. Mostly white male critics who obviously don’t understand that my metaphysics includes them even though theirs has never included me.”
The Alice Walker of the 1990s had insight…
“Each time I vaguely think of turning on the white man’s voice—radio or t.v.—I think Nah. What a joy to inhabit the world without its fake joviality, its treacherous (canned) laughter. Its relentless effort to make violence normal. Its hatred & fear of everyone & everything. Its sugary poison.”
This intimate glimpse into Alice Walker’s existence spans but thirty five years, 1965 - 2000. Seeing as how this complex and vivacious spirt is happily still with us, ‘Alice Part Two’ is undoubtedly already in the works. I, for one, can’t wait.
“…what will America look like when—if ever—it is united and happy!? I will not live to see that day, but the dream of it must be planted…”
There is a point in the life arc of a prolific and talented author when the writer himself/herself becomes the story. Mark Twain, Langston Hughes, and James Baldwin come to mind. Studies are made on their technique. Courses are taught on their material. Biographies (authorized and unauthorized) are written on their lives. And, if the author kept such things, journals and diaries are published.
“People have called me brave so often that I almost believe it - if fear is brave I am brave.”
There is an intimacy in journals, if they’re written openly and honestly, that one does not find in biographies. This is not Alice Walker recounting and reflecting on things that happened fifty years ago. This is Alice Walker at that particular moment in time. A snapshot, if you will, of a fascinating life in progress.
The Alice Walker of the 1960s had convictions…
“…the South will rise again—but as a nation of men and not a lot of finky little Confederate flagwavers who don’t know Sherman from Grant.”
The Alice Walker of the 1970s had opinions…
“…Ayn Rand will forever be incompatible with black people.”
The Alice Walker of the 1980s had awareness (and a HUGE crush on Quincy Jones)…
“I finally admitted to myself how hurt and frustrated I am by some of the more vicious reviews. I find the unfairness particularly hard to bear. Mostly white male critics who obviously don’t understand that my metaphysics includes them even though theirs has never included me.”
The Alice Walker of the 1990s had insight…
“Each time I vaguely think of turning on the white man’s voice—radio or t.v.—I think Nah. What a joy to inhabit the world without its fake joviality, its treacherous (canned) laughter. Its relentless effort to make violence normal. Its hatred & fear of everyone & everything. Its sugary poison.”
This intimate glimpse into Alice Walker’s existence spans but thirty five years, 1965 - 2000. Seeing as how this complex and vivacious spirt is happily still with us, ‘Alice Part Two’ is undoubtedly already in the works. I, for one, can’t wait.
“…what will America look like when—if ever—it is united and happy!? I will not live to see that day, but the dream of it must be planted…”