Brown girls brown girls brown girls....

...is the oft-repeated refrain in a delightfully innovative and insightful book, "Brown Girls" by Daphne Palasi Andreades, which I picked up at a swanky book event and read on the beach. Let me tell you more!

First- the event. Two gal pals and I recently attended an event (reading? casual gala? festive evening?) celebrating the winner of the 2023 Carol Shields Prize for Fiction, Fatima Asghar. The event was right up our alley: geographically it was easy to get to, it ended at a reasonable hour, free wine and snacks (with ticket purchase), and more importantly, it was all about celebrating women writers. The honouree, Fatima Asghar, spoke beautifully about her winning novel and her perspectives on race, love, writing, poetry, and community.

Normally I would pick up a copy of the book being honoured at one of these events, but the adjective "heartrending" in the description, and the author's caution of it being a tough book emotionally, gave me a wee pause. I love a heart-wrenching tear jerker, but you gotta be in the right time n' headspace for it, and I just wasn't that night.

A reflection of my emotional bandwidth at the time

(source: Wix and GIPHY)

So, I picked up a copy of Brown Girls by Daphne Palasi Andreades instead, which was shortlisted for the prize and sounded like an energetic, coming of age story of girls of colour in Queens, NY.

This book is DIFFERENT, but great in many ways.

How is it different? The author uses the first person plural point of view (we, our, us), which makes you feel like you're in it with these girls. But, for someone who loves sinking deep into an individual character's point of view, it can be a bit distancing at the same time. There are individual names used to reference some of the characters, but you never get a sense of them as individuals. Nevertheless, it felt very innovative and haunting at points- it sometimes reminded me of the voice of the slave girl chorus in Atwood's The Penelopiad. Unsettling. Tragic. But also powerful in their collective.

Using the unique voice of the book, the author really paints a vivid picture of racial microaggressions (and macroaggressions) that young women of colour must navigate on a day-to-day basis, as well as internalized racism.

"Seventeen. White boys touch our skin. Beautiful, they say...Just to be near them feels like we are coveting something precious...Never mind that we also feel as if our skin was smeared with dirt."

"...we suddenly become Ambassadors of Third World Nations. Their fathers and mothers ask: What do you think is the root cause of poverty in your country? Excuse me, your parents' country...We swallow. Dried bits of free range chicken inch down our throats. Brown girls brown girls brown girls who morph into marionettes on a stage--Charming, so charming!..."

OOF. As a white person I will never know these experiences, but the raw and eloquent descriptions brought these everyday experiences to life for me.

This book also touches on many complex themes of transitioning to female adulthood--the evolution of childhood friendships; entering motherhood (or not); mother-daughter relationships (particularly in immigrant households); and mortality. These themes didn't quite resonate with me as much as the primary focus of contemporary racism in America (and, no doubt, in Canada as well).

Overall, I'm glad I read this book. Did I love it? No--I think I need more character development and defined plot for that. Did I enjoy it and learn something from it? Heck yes. Am I glad I picked it up and supported a new female author? HELL YES.

Loulou takes reading at the beach very seriously (credit)

I read this book while car-camping in Sandbanks Provincial Park. I've visited the beautiful beaches for a few hours at a time before, but this was my first time spending the weekend. Did I love it? No--the sites are pretty small and you don't get a ton of privacy, and you still get cell service (part of the joy of camping is living like it's 1995 with no cell phone coverage). Did I enjoy the time spent outside, chilling in the hammock and reading on the beach? HELL YES.

In sum: pick up Brown Girls, and get outside!