Editorial Reviews
From Kirkus Reviews
Debut novel by hip-hop rap artist Sister Souljah, whose No Disrespect (1994), which mixes sexual history with political diatribe, is popular in schools country-wide. In its way, this is a tour de force of black English and underworld slang, as finely tuned to its heroine's voice as Alice Walker's The Color Purple. The subject matter, though, has a certain flashiness, like a black Godfather family saga, and the heroine's eventual fall develops only glancingly from her character. Born to a 14-year-old mother during one of New York's worst snowstorms, Winter Santiaga is the teenaged daughter of Ricky Santiaga, Brooklyn's top drug dealer, who lives like an Arab prince and treats his wife and four daughters like a queen and her princesses. Winter lost her virginity at 12 and now focuses unwaveringly on varieties of adolescent self-indulgence: sex and sugar-daddies, clothes, and getting her own way. She uses school only as a stepping-stone for getting out of the houseafter all, nobody's paying her to go there. But if there's no money in it, why go? Meanwhile, Daddy decides it's time to move out of Brooklyn to truly fancy digs on Long Island, though this places him in the discomfiting position of not being absolutely hands-on with his dealers; and sure enough the rise of some young Turks leads to his arrest. Then he does something really stupid: he murders his wife's two weak brothers in jail with him on Riker's Island and gets two consecutive life sentences. Winter's then on her own, especially with Bullet, who may have replaced her dad as top hood, though when she selfishly fails to help her pregnant buddy Simone, there's worsemuch worseto come. Thinness aside: riveting stuff, with language so frank it curls your hair. (Author tour) -- Copyright ©1999, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.
From Black Issues Book Review
The Maintenance Man is a soap opera tale of a professional prostitute named Malcolm Terrell, who begins struggling with the morality of his sex-for-money career thanks to three influential figures in his life: his best friend Simon Harris; his mentor Melvin Butler; and the love of his life, Antoinette Grayson. Baisden first introduces readers to Malcolm 12 years earlier at his father.s funeral where we overhear his confession that he continues his father's using and abusing legacy.
From there the story dives right into Malcolm. s sexual adventures and hectic lifestyle which progress sensationally until he meets Toni, a beautiful brown-eyed classical dancer. The book also tells the other side of the "male gigolo syndrome". through Teddy, a stripper for hire who doesn't get paid, but profits from sleeping with his clients. The story offers a relatively realistic view into who these men and women are who supply and demand these services.
But the view can sometimes be too clear. Baisden is overly descriptive when setting the scene around the story. For example, the author spends a page and a half introducing Toni to the story. Too much time is spent on things that are not important to the overall story. Every time a character is mentioned, Baisden has a tendency to explain, in excessive detail, what they are wearing and how they look— down to the make of their sunglasses. The Maintenance Man is more like a nighttime soap opera mixed with a sitcom, than a love story. However, if you want a fantasy escape from everyday life, then Baisden's got your quick fix.
Editorial Reviews
One of Chinua Achebe's many achievements in his acclaimed first novel, Things Fall Apart, is his relentlessly unsentimental rendering of Nigerian tribal life before and after the coming of colonialism. First published in 1958, just two years before Nigeria declared independence from Great Britain, the book eschews the obvious temptation of depicting pre-colonial life as a kind of Eden. Instead, Achebe sketches a world in which violence, war, and suffering exist, but are balanced by a strong sense of tradition, ritual, and social coherence. His Ibo protagonist, Okonkwo, is a self-made man. The son of a charming ne'er-do-well, he has worked all his life to overcome his father's weakness and has arrived, finally, at great prosperity and even greater reputation among his fellows in the village of Umuofia. Okonkwo is a champion wrestler, a prosperous farmer, husband to three wives and father to several children. He is also a man who exhibits flaws well-known in Greek tragedy: Okonkwo ruled his household with a heavy hand. His wives, especially the youngest, lived in perpetual fear of his fiery temper, and so did his little children. Perhaps down in his heart Okonkwo was not a cruel man. But his whole life was dominated by fear, the fear of failure and of weakness. It was deeper and more intimate than the fear of evil and capricious gods and of magic, the fear of the forest, and of the forces of nature, malevolent, red in tooth and claw. Okonkwo's fear was greater than these. It was not external but lay deep within himself. It was the fear of himself, lest he should be found to resemble his father. And yet Achebe manages to make this cruel man deeply sympathetic. He is fond of his eldest daughter, and also of Ikemefuna, a young boy sent from another village as compensation for the wrongful death of a young woman from Umuofia. He even begins to feel pride in his eldest son, in whom he has too often seen his own father. Unfortunately, a series of tragic events tests the mettle of this strong man, and it is his fear of weakness that ultimately undoes him. Achebe does not introduce the theme of colonialism until the last 50 pages or so. By then, Okonkwo has lost everything and been driven into exile. And yet, within the traditions of his culture, he still has hope of redemption. The arrival of missionaries in Umuofia, however, followed by representatives of the colonial government, completely disrupts Ibo culture, and in the chasm between old ways and new, Okonkwo is lost forever. Deceptively simple in its prose, Things Fall Apart packs a powerful punch as Achebe holds up the ruin of one proud man to stand for the destruction of an entire culture. --Alix Wilber
Editorial Reviews
From Publishers Weekly Dickey (Liar's Game) shows a skillful hand once again with sensational relationships and heady sensuality in his lively fourth novel, another winner. Exploring the dynamics of a complex and emotive love triangle, he injects some autobiographical detail into the mix by making his unnamed protagonist and first-person narrator a popular L.A.-based African-American author. This author is riding the wave of a book-signing tour in Oakland, Calif., but is still reeling from the repercussions of being stood up at the altar by seven-year lover and secretly budding lesbian Nicole. The runaway bride abandons the ceremony for some much-needed self-exploration, and though she's still in love with her ex-fianc‚, she quickly moves in with female lover Ayanna, a fiery, cynical attorney. A year later, Nicole gets busy alternating dates with both partners; this proves complicated and emotionally draining for all three. When they all finally come together, there is a dialogue-heavy, war of the roses-style battle for Nicole's heart (sandwiched between some particularly vigorous erotic play, Dickey-style). A tragic turn of events forces both Ayanna and the novelist to reexamine their narcissistic motivations and reconsider their capacity to love without limitations. The pace of this character-driven novel is unhurried, highlighting Dickey's celebrated contemporary vernacular, thinly veiled social commentary and comedic sarcasm. While his somewhat shallow emotional portrait of Nicole might not fully convince readers that she's worth all the trouble she causes, at the same time he manages to demonstrate just how blind and blissfully numbing true love can be. This is another spicy slice of African-American dramatic fiction from an author who seems only to get better. (July)Forecast: Jacketed in the familiar, brightly colored Dickey style, this quality crowd-pleaser will leap off display tables. Chances are it'll hit bestseller lists early, given an extra boost by a 20-city author tour.
Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information, Inc.
Reviewer: Jerri from Jacksonville I usually read more non-fiction than fiction, but I took a chance and read Satin Doll based on a recommendation from one of my college professors. I loved it! Regina, Charles and their friends were just too funny! I swear I know someone like each and everyone of them. Especially that darn Pudding. I read the entire book in one sitting. I kept trying to put it down, but kept telling myself, "Okay. I'm going to read just a few pages more." Before I knew it the book was done. The language in the book is sometimes salty, and some of the deeds committed by Regina Harris aren't commendable, but I think both things added to the book. Regina acted in situations just like a real woman would act and react. But not necessarily how a story book character would act. Based on the review I just read by another reviewer, I guess that puts some people off. It turned me on! Satin Doll doesn't have a typical ending, but it certainly had an excellent one. Maybe I would not have made the same decision Regina did in the end, but I certainly see why she made it. And it was consistent with her character. So people who only want typical sappy fairy tale endings, stay away. Regina is sophisticated and poised, and insecure and cynical. Born on the wrong side of the tracks she's a self-made woman, fiercely proud of her roots, and quick to attack anyone she feels threatening. I love her! And based on her character, which Miss Miller kept consistent throughout, how could anyone really expect her to do anything different than what she did at the end? I didn't realize at first that Satin Doll was Miss Miller's first book, and I actually went back to the bookstore looking for more of her work. I was disappointed, but I'm now expectant. If this is her first work, I know it won't be her last. She's too good. --This text refers to the Paperback edition.
