Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet
"Mesmerizing and evocative, Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet is a tale of conflicted loyalties, devotion, as well as a vibrant portrait of Seattle's Nihonmachi district in its heyday."
–Sara Gruen, New York Times Bestselling author of Water for Elephants
"Jamie Ford has written a tender and satisfying novel that is tucked into a part of Seattle history we would rather not face. Set in a time and a place lost forever, Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet gives us a glimpse of the damage that is caused by war--not the sweeping damage of the battlefield, but the cold, cruel damage to the hearts and humanity of individual people. Especially relevant in today's world, this is a beautifully written book that will make you think. But, more importantly, it will make you feel."
– Garth Stein, NY Times bestselling author of THE ART OF RACING IN THE RAIN
"Jamie Ford's first novel explores the age-old conflicts between father and son, the beauty and sadness of what happened to Japanese Americans in the Seattle area during World War II, and the depths and longing of deep-heart love. An impressive, bitter, and sweet debut.”
– Lisa See, bestselling author of SNOW FLOWER AND THE SECRET FAN, PEONY IN LOVE
Here is Jamie Ford's website to find out more about the book and other Jamie projects
http://www.jamieford.com/interview/
Sunday
January 2011 Book Club Meeting
Deborah hosted the January book club meeting at her lovely mid-town home.
Great food and fellowship.
What a wonderful way to wrap up a very grey Sacramento week.
Review of Kindred by John C. Snider © 2004
Life is good for Dana, a young black woman living in California. She and her husband have just moved into a new home, and their writing careers are taking off. Suddenly Dana's tranquility is shattered, as she finds herself transported from the present (1976) to antebellum Maryland, where she is forced to become both protector and house slave for Rufus, the young son of a plantation owner. Eventually Dana comes to the realization that Rufus is destined to be her great-great-grandfather, fathering a daughter through one of his slaves.
Review of Kindred by John C. Snider © 2004
Life is good for Dana, a young black woman living in California. She and her husband have just moved into a new home, and their writing careers are taking off. Suddenly Dana's tranquility is shattered, as she finds herself transported from the present (1976) to antebellum Maryland, where she is forced to become both protector and house slave for Rufus, the young son of a plantation owner. Eventually Dana comes to the realization that Rufus is destined to be her great-great-grandfather, fathering a daughter through one of his slaves.
Thus begins a series of incidences in which Dana is shuttled back and forth between her home in California and her "home" in 19th century Maryland. She is forced to confront the central feature of American history - slavery - in a profound and personal way.
Kindred, now celebrating its 25th anniversary, is Octavia E. Butler's masterpiece. This novel is deeply emotional, beautifully written, and its historical context painstakingly researched. As Butler herself has pointed out many times, Kindred is not technically science fiction, since the mechanism by which Dana is transported through time is never explained or rationalized - which makes it all the more frightening. Nonetheless, time travel is central to the story of Kindred, and thus it has developed a cult following among SF&F fans. It is also probably the only "science fiction" novel to appear on the short list of books included in academic programs devoted to women's studies and black history.
Kindred is more that simply a victimization story of an intelligent black woman ripped from her comfy 20th century existence and thrown unexpectedly into the cruel slave culture of the Old South. We are told in the book's opening scene that Dana mysteriously loses her left arm as a result of her final return to modern times. Exactly how or why this happens is never fully explained, but perhaps this is a reference to the time when blacks were Constitutionally considered three-quarters of a person (perhaps it's a reminder that blacks are still not fully "whole" even today - although why that is could be the subject of hot debate). Dana's husband Kevin (who happens to be white) is transported back to Maryland with her, giving us a perfect opportunity to contrast his ability to assimilate to a society in which white men are virtual gods.
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