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Vicky had ordered her usual pink cow and took a sip as she responded to her new friend, Ari. They had been talking about a talent show that was coming up and Ari, who was very involved with music, was asking for details...
Of course, they were including comments about Hester, who had won the contest for the last two years...
Hester? She was dating that cute, rich boy that Berta dreamed about before she met Howard. Let's just say Hester flung that connection around to all the girls in the school--"He's mine!" Even Ari, who was new to the school had already noticed, and after their discussion, she decided she would sign up!
And the jukebox played on...
If you all don't mind, I'd like to share one of my own past stories that I thought of as I was reading these books, the last one, by the way, is my favorite, maybe for that reason... But probably because of Ari's music interests... And her decision to compete...
Too many years ago for me to remember the year, I had just met a new member of my family, by marriage. The WVU fieldhouse was still on the main campus and she and I attended a basketball game... It was a small facility and I was seeing many people I knew. But one of the faculty members with whom I worked happened to be looking around at the same time and we recognized each other and waved hands, smiling... I got a strange look from this new female and she asked me if I knew him... Then, for whatever reason, she asked me if I would date a Black man... At that time, I had already been very conscious about prejudice against Black people, since I was already meeting many more non-white people than I had ever interacted with there... This is what I said: "Probably not, my main concern would be the children that could result from a relationship--everybody knew that other children still picked on children different from them. That was the end of that conversation. However, a week or so later, my aunt with whom I'd always been close, asked me, bluntly, "Are you interested in dating Black men?" I probably said, "ah, What?" She promptly went on and told me who has told her that. We looked at each other, immediately knowing what we were thinking... Then she told me, that she had talked so much about needing a coat, that my aunt finally gave her money. We would be on the alert from now on... And, I can't help but worry just a little, about what's happening, again, today... But I've learned to admire the Black Culture, especially those individuals I've met through their wonderful books, like this trilogy.
I bring this up because of the new family that came to the "Black Diamond district." You see, Ari's father had originally lived there many years ago... He had left and had joined the service, fighting in WWII but his greatest love and job was playing piano... And he knew he would always be able to find somebody who needed a piano player... Thing was, as he worked, he realized that nobody seemed to know he was a Black man. Even in the service... So, why would he make a point of it?
And what happened to make him come back home? He fell in love. With a beautiful Mexican woman... And Ari became a mixed-race child who knew as soon as she was old enough to understand that they were holding a secret. You see, at that time, Mexicans were classified, legally, as white. And it was illegal to be married to a Black man... It was time to go home to Black Diamond...
At first, the family was...watched... Many of the older residents knew he had passed for many years out in the white world... It seemed everybody adopted a wait-and-see about why he came back. But, that was the grownups... Berta, when she first say Ari sitting alone, she felt...empathy... And even though she was a little jealous of what Howard said about her being pretty, Berta went over and started talking... Soon, Ari had filled the place that had been vacated in the threesome which were Vicky, Berta, and now Ari...
You know that television that was new in town? Well, Ari was the first to be invited over, along with others from school, to watch TV... And if the young shall lead, Berta's family soon invited Ari's parents to watch a drama one evening...
So while that was happening the trio continued to ponder whether Ari should compete in the talent contest... So Vicki checked out the rules and discovered that it said nothing about whether a mixed-race individual could compete... BTW, Hester had told Ari that she should check the rules... That made the decision much more easy, of course. But Ari wondered about what should she do for her talent. Her Dad had been teaching her piano since she was very young. But, she was also had a beautiful voice. In any event, she was afraid her need for practicing would disrupt her home too much... So, that was quickly arranged by the pastor of their church being willing for her to practice--as long as the music didn't get to jazzy... LOL
When I heard Black Diamond, I knew this was the video to use... even if Ari would also be playing piano...
It was Ari's turn, she wore a beautiful gown she'd worn before to a special event. She sat down to play, but hesitated... At the last minute she knew the song that she really wanted to sing--and how to sing it...
Unfortunately, I've spent it seems hours trying to find a video, which I really wanted to hear and use... of exactly what Ari had chosen to do... She had sung the first time in English, and then she sang the last version in Spanish... Finding this song in Spanish? Even Latino stars chose to sing in English...Sigh
Of course when we read about Hester's talent, we knew who would win!
But, the more important part of the story was when Ari's mother came to her after she'd left the state... You see, Ari had missed her grandmother who they didn't see much since they'd moved... Little by little, the use of their Spanish had been eliminated from their daily lives... Ari, who was of two cultures, wanted to celebrate them both... And sharing the other part of her there in Black Diamond was something she felt she really needed to do...
Many have said lately that you cannot choose with whom you fall in love. In a single race community, or nation, it may never come up. But in a land where all people are welcomed, love comes, sometimes, from a different ethnic descent you meet--somebody who turns out to be their one and only soul mate... Does it matter? In the 40s, the government regulated marriage by color of your skin... Ari and her parents had to come to Black Diamond and felt safe for, maybe, the first time since they were married years ago... I so applaud Nadine for writing from a historical perspective that we are now once again facing... But, no matter who says what, know that we are all God's Children...
I recognize that I may have overplayed the historical part... But with this last book, I want to point out to our teen readers, that these books really are fun to read... watching teenagers back in the 40s, you may find, is not really different... Or is it? In any event, they are escapes from reality... Brining in the War was a small part of it all... The books rock with music, gossip by the local store boy who bags groceries repeating anything and everything that is most talked about as people check out...and then share to the next group of people... LOL Why wait for the newspaper, at least until Vicky is working there one day!
More importantly, it is a time when friends could be friends--both boys and girls--and find that they could be themselves. Only one girl seemed to have a problem with other students, but, really, there's probably more these days, right? Bottom line, I loved these books... I wish I had been able to find the final song, Nature Boy, sung by a beautiful teen who learned both English and Spanish from her parents. At least it was Nat's daughter, but his voice is so much smoother and dreamy...LOL Hint I was/am his fan!
It's been awhile since I read this funny, ironic and simply unbelievable set of stories... Yet, it is now when it seems the best time to talk about these books... You see, the books, which are clearly character driven, spotlights women in politics... A female president, for instance... She's in office as the trilogy begins... And, it is quite possible that a female president will be elected later this year. Will she have the same stamina and guts as the female president in this book? I enjoy watching Nicole Wallach's news program and was not surprised that she had a much-needed handle on the entire political process to be able to craft a realistic setting...
Melanie
Call me Charlotte—I insist,” she’d said. She was smart and funny and self-deprecating. She’d seemed to have been handed a briefing paper so detailed about Melanie’s career that Melanie wondered if the FBI had been involved. After some small talk about the current unusually cold temperatures for Washington, Charlotte had told Melanie that she’d seen her on the Today show years earlier and that she had admired and tried to emulate her cheerful toughness in her own television appearances. She’d praised Melanie’s decision to have the president do weekly press conferences in media markets around the country instead of from the White House. She’d said she agreed with the outgoing president’s decision not to campaign on her behalf because of the ongoing wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, which she must have known had been Melanie’s advice to the president. Melanie’s defenses had been down. She was feeling more and more flattered by the minute. And the idea of being the highest-ranking staff person for the first female president in America’s history did capture her imagination. Despite the fact that in the recesses of her mind, she understood that it was all part of an elaborate scheme to entice her, she’d said yes on the spot to serving as chief of staff to the nation’s forty-fifth president. That was three years ago. Melanie fingered the smooth gold chain around her neck and stared at the reflection that the diamonds made on the wall of the Oval Office. “If you’re still in there, Melanie, you’re welcome,” the president said, waving her hand in front of Melanie’s face. “I’ll see you tonight. We need to talk about the campaign. I’m sorry I’m missing your party, but at least I’m taking Ralph off your hands.” “Party? What party?” Melanie groaned. “I told them you’d hate it, but as usual, nobody listened to me. Act surprised. Sam and Annie have been working on it for weeks.” The president turned back to her desk. “Sam, please tell the speechwriters to get on the helicopter. We have to write a new speech.” Melanie turned to leave and smiled sympathetically at the speechwriters who were huddled in front of Samantha’s desk. “Good luck, guys,” Melanie said. “I’ll throw Ralph under the bus later. She’s just being melodramatic. Roll with it.” Melanie endured the senior staff singing “Happy Birthday” to her at their seven-thirty meeting. She took calls from most of the Cabinet members, wishing her a happy birthday and from many of the reporters she’d known from her eight years as press secretary for the previous president. Her parents sent a dozen white roses mixed with white tulips, her favorite flowers. But nothing could have prepared her for her own reaction to the slide show that the White House staff assembled to pay tribute to her fifteen years of service. Thank God the lights were dimmed and the music blaring. Against a soundtrack of depressing spinster ballads from Natalie Merchant and Tori Amos, the images flooded the room. There she was at twenty-three—in the group photo of all the White House interns—smiling and oblivious to the three chins she’d had in those days. President Phil Harlow was the first president Melanie had worked for. She’d lied about being a student to get the internship, since the White House intern program was only available to college students earning credit for their free labor. When a spot opened up for a junior press aide, she’d confessed about graduating the year before, and they’d given her the job. She spent nearly three years in the same cramped fourth-floor office in the Old Executive Office Building, across the driveway from the West Wing. The next images were from her days as a campaign aide to President Harlow’s nephew, Christopher Martin. He’d surprised everyone when he announced a run for the presidential nomination during President Harlow’s last year in office. Melanie had signed on as his campaign press secretary. Everyone was shocked when he won the nomination and, eventually, the presidency. President Martin made Melanie his first press secretary, and at twenty-six, she’d been the youngest White House press secretary in history. The pictures of Melanie as President Martin’s press secretary made her cringe. Fortunately, her clothes, hair, and figure improved with age. There were pictures of her sleeping with her mouth wide open on Air Force One, plenty of shots of her fielding questions from the podium in the White House briefing room, and images she recognized as having been Photoshopped to remove all evidence of Matthew, her husband for a brief period during the Martin administration. Photos of Melanie as Charlotte’s chief of staff made up the last and longest part of the slide show. She’d been around the photographers so long that she didn’t notice them anymore, but there she was: speaking to Charlotte as they walked across the South Lawn to board Marine One, being summoned by Charlotte as she stepped off Air Force One, whispering in her ear in meetings with foreign leaders, hiking with her at Camp David with the dogs, and laughing with her in the Oval Office over one of their many inside jokes. Melanie stood and applauded when the slide show finally came to an end. “Thank you so much. It has been the privilege of a lifetime to serve this president alongside all of you. Thank you for this great surprise. I don’t know what to say, other than thank you, from the bottom of my heart.” She stayed and thanked everyone for coming and asked the stewards to bring the leftover cake to the residence. She and Charlotte would eat it for dessert. Fifteen years, three presidents, and seven executive assistants later, Melanie thought to herself as she walked back to her office. “And all I’ve done is move forty feet.” Around eight P.M., Melanie heard the sound of Marine One as it neared the South Lawn. She loaded her BlackBerrys and phones into her purse and walked down the hall toward the residence where she and Charlotte would have dinner. Charlotte had been bugging her for an answer about running her reelection campaign for weeks. As the chopper came closer, her mind flashed back to her first ride on Marine One. It fell on her twenty-sixth birthday, and she had been nervous and excited about joining the elite group of top staffers who rode on the presidential helicopter instead of driving the short distance to Andrews Air Force Base. They’d been traveling to Detroit that day to talk about the economy, and President Martin’s poll numbers were almost as battered as Charlotte’s. More than a decade later, Melanie still remembered how her stomach had churned and the sweat from her underarms had soaked her blouse that day. She had heard the sound of the helicopter as it neared the South Lawn, and she’d raced down the hall to the Oval Office. President Martin had looked at her, clearly enjoying her anticipation. “You ready?” he’d asked. “I’m ready,” she’d said with a grin. He’d flung his arm around her and walked out to the South Lawn, where the helicopter was parked. He’d waved to the cameras and the crowds and mouthed “Thank you” to the friends and staffers who had gathered to see him off. Melanie had walked on her toes to keep her heels from getting stuck in the muddy grass, but it wasn’t enough. She lost one of her Stuart Weitzman pumps in the mud and was too afraid to stop and pick it up with the cameras rolling. She’d boarded Marine One and taken a seat across from the president. “You sit here—you won’t bump into me the way these thugs would,” President Martin had ordered, referring to the male staffers who would bump into his knees if they sat in the seat across from him. “Yes, sir,” Melanie had agreed as she sat across from the president and peered out the window of the helicopter. Melanie had no idea what to do about her shoe. She hoped that no one would notice. She’d send someone to buy her a new pair in Detroit. Ernie Upshaw, President Martin’s deputy chief of staff, noticed her bare muddy foot first. “Where is your shoe, Melanie?” he’d asked. “Uh, it fell off.” “Where?” the president had asked. “Somewhere between the Oval Office and the helicopter,” she’d admitted, her cheeks and neck turning hot. The president had howled with laughter and sent Buckey, his personal aide, out to find her missing shoe. The shoe was wedged so deep in the mud that it took Buckey about five minutes to find it. The helicopter pilots had eventually powered down Marine One, and all three of the cable news networks had carried the shoe hunt live. Melanie’s BlackBerry had filled with new messages. Her assistant: “They aren’t looking for your shoe, are they?” Her mother: “All the news stations are calling you Cinderella. Why didn’t you wear flats?” The White House chief of staff: “Way to go—the president will be late, but you will have your shoes.” He is such a jerk, Melanie had thought. Buckley had finally returned to Marine One with Melanie’s muddy black pump in his hand. The president thought the whole episode was hilarious. As they lifted off from the South Lawn of the White House and flew over the Washington Mall, Melanie had felt as if she’d been transported to a different world. The Tidal Basin glistened in the morning sun, and the Washington Monument jutted out of the ground. The flags that surrounded it flapped in the wind below her window, and the tops of the buildings on the mall looked like doll houses. “It’s pretty spectacular, isn’t it?” the president had said. “Amazing,” Melanie had replied, not moving her eyes from the sights below. “How could that have been eleven years ago?” Melanie thought, not realizing she’d muttered to herself until one of Charlotte’s agents spoke to her. “Ms. Kingston, is everything all right?” “I’m sorry; I’m fine. Losing it, perhaps, but fine. Is she upstairs yet?” “Yes. She said to tell you to come on in.” Melanie walked past the table...
~~~
But, first, I was saddened by Joe Biden's decision to not continue to run for 2024. I believe he would have and frankly, if his own party members had not turned against him. I am wondering about the democratic party for the future. Of course, I have found that I would never vote republican based upon all that I have discovered from political-related books. So, we now have a woman who, in essence, is beginning her candidacy for the president, with such a short time to gain the required support needed... Joe Biden had said that only the Lord All Mighty could stop his running. I believe that Joe did hear His guidance. I know it was a hard decision and I am so proud of President Biden for putting our country first...
Eighteen Acres gave me new information in that it is exactly Eighteen acres of land upon which the White House is located. The books are written from the POV that changes constantly as the story moves forward. Charlotte is the president and is a rich blend of smarts, guts and, sometimes, coldness... Toward her husband. Melanie has taken the Chief of Staff position. They are a well-tuned thinking machine that almost speaks on behalf of the other... But, Melanie is a better writer and Charlotte has come to depend upon her to guide her through those difficult times when she's not quite sure what to say... Melanie then takes over with the speechwriters and succeeds quickly to meet the needs of the president...
Charlotte has a good reputation and so when she decided to run again, her campaign seemed to be a piece of cake...until two issues exploded across the nation. It was reported that Charlotte's husband was having an affair... And, at the same time, her closest security adviser made a tragie error in judgment. Charlotte had to ask him to leave his position...
So, how does a president and her campaign staff save her from failing?
What happens next could never have been predicted even in a great mystery book...
Charlotte decided to make another first in history... When her VP decided it was his time to step down, he recommended that she work to make a splash... She hired the first female VP! Tara is almost the opposite from Charlotte. She dresses sexy, talks quickly and often and becomes the most popular person in this administration... Melanie had already explained to Charlotte that she would not continue as Chief of Staff and planned to retire. But Charlotte offered Melanie a job she could not refuse! She became, probably the first, Secretary of Defense! And the troops loved her as she spent time traveling and meeting with our soldiers who were stationed overseas... At the same time, Charlotte was still not sure she could live down the loss of her senior advisor who committed suicide!
“Just tell me when your go time is and I’ll have her down here,” he said. “I guess five A.M., so we aren’t too rushed. Is that too early?” “No, of course not. She can do this, you know. I mean, she just needs to get through this adjustment period and she’ll be fine,” he said. It was the first nice thing he’d said about his wife all evening. “I think she’s doing just fine now,” Dale said.
“What are you guys talking about?” Tara asked, appearing suddenly in black sweatpants and a matching hoodie. She was wearing socks but no shoes and Dale hadn’t heard her come down the stairs. She wondered how long Tara had been listening. “How you are going to knock these interviews out of the park tomorrow, baby,” Marcus said with a phony smile. Tara walked to his side and said something Dale couldn’t hear. He nodded and said, “I’ve got it. You get back to your prep. You need it.” Before he left the room, he grabbed a roll of fat from around Tara’s stomach. “After we conquer the morning shows, we’re going to focus on this,” he said, looking at Dale while he spoke. Tara looked mortified, and Dale could hardly keep the horror off her face. She couldn’t decide which one of them was more shocking: Marcus for being so mean, or Tara for standing there and enduring his abuse. Dale felt like hurling her empty coffee cup at him. “Dale here doesn’t have an ounce of fat on her, do you, Dale?” Dale looked at Tara sympathetically and tried to think of something funny to say to deflect Marcus’s verbal assault. “I have a mouth full of cavities and stringy brown hair. I’d kill for your wife’s perfect teeth and gorgeous head of hair.” Tara smiled gratefully and Marcus let go of her. Dale continued. “Mr. Meyers, while we are honored by your company, we have a lot of work to do tonight before we can all go to bed,” Dale said. “No problem. It’s time for me to spin off a cool thousand calories. The music doesn’t bother you does it? Helps distract me from the pain.” “No,” Dale said. Her eyes were on Tara as he made his way down the stairs in his spinning shoes. As soon as the door closed behind him, Dale heard him turn up the volume on the stereo. Eminen started blaring from the lower level. Tara looked like she might cry. Dale wanted to tell her to ignore the asshole she was married to, but she knew better than to insert herself. Tara had taken a seat on the same sofa where she’d been sitting before. She looked like she was trying to pull herself together. “I have an idea,” Dale said. Tara looked up. “Shoot the prick?” Tara said, with such a straight face that Dale was too stunned to say anything. She laughed. “Insanity defense,” Tara added with a sly smile. Dale laughed it off but filed it away in her I-can’t-believe-this-is-my-life file. “That wasn’t what I was going to say.” “I know what it must look like.” Tara sighed. Dale waited for her to continue.
When she didn’t, Dale spoke. “Madam Vice President, the American people are trying to figure you out. People are mostly interested in you because you seem too normal for politics. That makes you more intriguing and appealing, in a lot of ways, than President Kramer,” Dale said. Tara contemplated this. “That’s why I tried to work some of your struggles—with weight, with motherhood, with work—into the answers. I think that’s how we dig out of this little hole we got you into. Let the American people inside the struggles and maybe they’ll help pull you out.” Dale was trying to sound reassuring. She didn’t like what the meat grinder was doing to Tara. She prayed that the vice president would regain some of the grit she’d displayed during the campaign. “Can I tell you something?” Tara asked. “Sure.” Dale thought for a second that she’d confide in her about whatever was going on. “I am such a huge fan of Caroline Carter. I’ve watched Wake Up, America since I was in college and I feel like I know her, you know? You must think I am so lame. I mean, you know all these people.” “I don’t want to shatter your image of her, but Caroline is dumber than my shoes,” Dale said. Tara looked crushed. Then she started to laugh. “Take that back, Dale. I won’t let you take away all my heroes.” Dale laughed and breathed a sigh of relief that Tara’s sense of humor had returned. “How about another round with the index cards? No theatrics. We will just go through all of the questions and answers until you’re comfortable with the content?” Dale asked. “Let’s do it,” Tara replied.
~~~
And everybody was shocked when Tara had hired her own news rep without talking about it to anybody--Dale was the woman with whom Charlotte's husband had had an affair... Wow... Can it get worse? Yes, it can... For one, when Dale took the job in the White House, rather than accepting the home which had just been bought for her, the relationship with Charlotte's ex-husband got cooler and cooler... Dale had been working with Tara to handle meetings... But when Tara was left to hold down the fort and went AWOL too many days without explanation and when she showed up, she was not, shall we say, able and ready to do her job? Something had to be done... Secrets, Secrets, Secrets... Politics is full of them!
Family life for Charlotte was, really--well, it sucked, mostly. Peter had been involved with Dana for years and even Charlotte knew it before it exploded... But, what really bothered her was her daughter's response to her and then her actions...
When I started reading the first book, my mind went back to the excellent show, that I loved, "Madam Secretary." I so enjoyed watching a woman have a significant post in our Government... And, to a great extent, the character that played the Secretary of State had a personality much like Charlotte, our President of this Trilogy. A president, no matter what sex, has a life outside of the position... Yet, it doesn't. Both must be considered. Sometimes that is impossible and a family breaks apart. Most of the time, I believe that when an individual chooses to serve their country, it must be on the basis of the Country coming first...
I've purposely left out a lot of narrative of these books. There are many other reviews that you can check out. I found that, this morning, after having the loss of my president's decision sink in, my mind went to this trilogy and what happened... That book ends by Madam President going to the opposite party and seeking suggestions for her new Vice President, which would be another woman...
Already, this white male, that white male, or this other white male has been named as a possible candidate... If I had any way to recommend what was to happen, I would whisper to Kamala that she might want to consider a woman, Liz Cheney... Another person whose life was destroyed by the former president... And, if we are ever going to move forward beyond what has/is happening in America, we should try to move away from the republican cult and restore our two-party system. It may have been troublesome sometime. But at least it would still be a democratic nation... Cheney has the credentials and the spirit we need to win... And it would be a move forward by having both the president and vice-president filled by women... Especially after the destruction of women's health care via the republican-appointed Justices. No, I didn't get the idea from these books, but they certainly combine family and the political world in an outstanding, informative manner... Thoroughly enjoyable... Check them out!
He is my firstborn, the one I am bound to trust, above all others. There is nothing I will withhold from him, especially now, when he is so weak, so susceptible. Besides, even if I’m making a mistake, what’s the worst that can happen? I ask for a quill so as to write a note to Tamar.
Jonadab has it right there, at the ready. It has been neatly sharpened, so as not to waste any time. “Come to the house of your brother Amnon,” I tell her in my note, “and prepare some food for him.” I consider for a moment if I should replace the word food with dumpling. I decide against it, perhaps because for me, it evokes the unpleasant sight of Amnon licking his lips. And so, without delay, the note is sealed and on its way.
The conversation with Amnon keeps haunting me as I climb uphill, back to my palace. I find his last question disturbing, without being able to explain why. It seemed innocent enough, at first.
“Would you do anything for me?”
To which I said, “Of course, son.”
“How much are you willing to sacrifice?”
“What kind of a question is that?” In place of an answer, he pressed on.
“Would you become my accomplice?”
“To do what?” I wondered, because no crime had been named. I mean, his mind is far from being transparent! How was I supposed to guess what he...
“Where’s Tamar?” I ask, in a voice that is thick with worry. “And Amnon? You seen him? Where’s he?” She waves her dripping hand at me, but it is unclear if this is meant to indicate that there is no one inside—or that I, too, should leave the place.
I shout at her, hearing my voice echo, with great urgency, throughout the house, “Your master, Amnon, where’s he?”
The maidservant brings a finger to her wrinkled lips, perhaps to calm me down, which is when, for the first time, I start listening. Like me, she cups her ear. There is a sound out there, barely human—but somehow I recognize that it is not the wind, wailing with such despair, such sad lament.
At last, “There. There she is,” the maidservant whispers, breaking her silence.
“Tamar?” I say, hoping the answer would be No.
“Tamar,” she says, her voice cracking. “I was told to do it.”
“Do what?”
“Was it my fault? My job is to obey orders.”
“What was it your did?”
I can barely hear her, as she says, “I had no choice but to put her out and bolt the door shut after her. She was wearing an ornate coat, a coat of many colors, the kind of garment virgin princesses would wear.
Once she found herself on the street Tamar ripped it. She put ashes on her head and put her hands on her head and went away, weeping aloud as she went.”
~~~
As soon as I had reviewed three of the Inspired by Art books in this series, the last of which complemented this book, I knew I wanted to read the novels. As with the Art book, I found the third book, The Edge of Revolt, the most provocative and filled with new information...for me... I admit that somehow I had missed the impact of what happened to David in his later life...and to his children...
I knew also that I wanted to discuss the books with the author, so began arranging a spotlight to be held on my blog...(that activity has been streaming since the 15th and shows many of those pictures from the Inspired books as well as Poznansky's own art works in different mediums--Take time to check everything out!
In creating questions to discuss, I made my first comment about David, as he had aged... I thought he was weak and although that opinion differed from the author, I continued to feel that way. I admit, however, that I found myself responding to the book as a contemporary rather than historical book. Indeed, reading the book in contemporary language emphasizes just how little many of us have changed over hundreds of years...
The book is brilliantly written, so much so that I could not help forming opinions about the main character based upon my personal concerns of today. More so than in other books, I found I was unable to accept David's part in the rape of Tamar, his daughter. While recognizing that the role of women was different at that time, it was hard to accept the rape of women happened then, in the King's family, and is not only still going on but seems to have taken on a new dimension as Human Trafficking reigns across the world.
Other reviewers may provide a totally unbiased overview that I find I do not want to do for this book...so do check out all the other reviews this book has received... This is an opinion piece, a reader's response to the story, as opposed to my regular review... That is caused by today's chaotic environment where hate, prejudice and injustice seems to rule... openly and with little regard for others.
David had worked hard, first to kill Goliath, and then to go on leading many wars to gain more territory. I raised the hypothesis at the time of David's first murder. What if God's plan was to have the very young David not kill Goliath, but go and stand before him in friendship... Many laugh at the thought...but God is a God of love...after Jesus came...So what change did God have in mind when Jesus died for each of us? For it now seems that little has changed across the world...
Was the death of Jesus in vain, since wars have gone on and on after His Crucifixion?
David was a man favored by God and it was prophesied that he would be King...Yet David followed the path of his peers, he sought power almost immediately, even while sharing his words in Psalms... He married often as well as had a harem, as was what occurred at that time...
But then he chose to have an affair with a married woman, and after impregnating her, had her husband murdered so he could marry Bathsheba. It is evident from the original story that they fell in love...it happened then and it happens today... Murder was done then...and murder continues across our world, oftentimes through wars that now are even more dangerous with weapons out of control and people using weapons as a sign of power...
But when Tamara was raped... I was forced to consider that the world may never change... For Tamara was raped by her step-brother...forced out of his home, left to be seen as a ruined girl, now no longer worthy of marriage...and receiving no justice for her assault!
Tamara's father was King at the time. It was up to him to provide justice for his daughter...Not only did he not act as appropriate to convict his son, he made no real effort to comfort his daughter... I see the same thing today, as justice does not seem to be done, rather it is questioned as judgments are made that do not make sense...
David had two positions in his older life. He was King. He was a father.
As King, it was his responsibility to act on behalf of Tamara. He didn't; he allowed it to fester for years, until another son, Absalom, took his brother's life on behalf of Tamara, and, in my opinion, to reveal David's weakness in not handling his duties as King. And when Absalom had his brother killed...David continued to do nothing...as the country's leader. My favorite Psalm is 121...Written by David, as was his many others, he speaks eloquently, powerfully, and with inspired words...I have a Thomas Kinkaid painting behind me as I type this...In it, he has combined what could be my home in this cabin and adds the legend from Psalm 121: I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills...
Psalm 121 King James Version (KJV) 121 I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. 2 My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth. 3 He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber. 4 Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep. 5 The Lord is thy keeper: the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. 6 The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. 7 The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul. 8 The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore. King James Version (KJV)
But David was also a father...It is in that role that he also failed to act, loving all his children and not being able to act to raise his hand against any of them... In this too, I saw that David was weak... for does it not also say...
Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.--KJV
And as I read on, I didn't change my mind that David should have acted differently, especially toward Tamar. And yet, there is so much to learn from this third book... Just as David had chosen once to kill for selfish reasons, taking Bathsheba as his own, those decisions of free will continue on and on as we come to face ourselves in this world today... The Tamars of today are many more than at that time--my heart cries for these women pulled today into sex slavery and human trafficking... And I realize, and as the author indicated in her book descriptions, that this book is brought to us today to see what our own decisions have brought forth in the world... to clarify and use the stories of what occurred years ago, to look and see the real world that is today... Thank you Uvi Podnansky. And, that, in every way, we are still in the position of making our own choices, our own decisions. We cannot see David as a man of God as well as dismiss him as a weak man, for if we eliminate that David sought his own forgiveness, we forget that so we must also seek forgiveness and strength when we fail...
As my thoughts continued, I found that it had been time for me to read this book. To recognize that we are each, only human...and weak... We must learn from David's story and decide what we want to say and do in response to David. We can be charmed by his poetry, his music but now there is a bit of darkness in his words as we constantly must adjust to the reality that even men of God are not perfect, no not one... and it is only God that we can look to for perfection...
And we discover, after all, that we are like David himself... We are weak in our own desires and loves and it is only through God--His Grace-- that we can continue to abide in His Love.
Read The David Chronicles! See what message, what inspiration you will find from these literary books, based upon the original Hebrew, of God's words. There is little about God in David's story... It is you who must seek your way by knowing more, learning more, and opening up yourself to the reality then and our reality...right...now... Many of you know that I have been very concerned about the chaos happening in America, especially after the Charlottesville violence just this week... David was obviously a man of God, but he acted as he should not have when he had a man murdered. Was that first murder what led to what occurred between and among his children... We must right now choose... will we speak out against evil or do we remain silent, as David did... If is often said that the Bible is the inspired Word of God...and with that comes the opportunity for the Holy Spirit to work through each of us to discover how we are being led... Are we on The Edge of Revolt? Uvi Poznansky has written her story as she was inspired to do... Read the entire trilogy... It is great literature of historical events. It is thought-provoking, provocative, and timely and just may have words that will speak to you, as this book did for me... Highly recommended... GABixlerReviews
This is an early trailer before the last book's name was changed... but still certainly relevant... Introduction A Note from Sam Good Man
My name is Sam Good Man. By rights, I could use the name Sam Baahuhd. I can claim that name because I am the oldest descendant of the original Sam Baahuhd, the headman of the village when we had to go underground to escape the atomics. I am the headman now, one hundred and five generations later. Legends are told of lives like mine, but my life doesn’t seem legendary to me. It seems normal. Even ordinary. Well, perhaps a bit more than that. I was born in the underground shelter and escaped from it in its darkest time. I was badly wounded when I escaped and am alive only because Jeremy Edgarton— known by my people as the Great Tek— and his mother, the lady, Veronica Edgarton— saved me.
We found ourselves living on a great stone cliff over a river valley. We were joined by those who had gone to the angel Eliana’s planet to escape the great atomic war: Jeremy the Great Tek, Eliana herself, Henry and Lena, and Mel and James. We had many adventures. The battle for the underground when we saved the children was the greatest. I’m not going to talk about those times. I’m going to talk about what started it all.
To understand this book, you need to know that I have another name. I am Sam of Emily. I am the last of the line
of Emily born in the underground shelter. Emily is the woman Sam Baahuhd carried into the shelter just before the bombs went off and sealed us down there forever. I carry inside of me Emily and Sam Baahuhd and Arthur Romero and so many more of the first ones. They sing in me, telling their tales. Every story has a story behind it. This book has one, too.
After the battle for the underground, we went back to the cliff by the river with the
children we’d saved. When we got things squared away so that no one was near dying, we started having campfires every night. We laughed and had fun— the best times I’d ever had. At the campfires, the children sang the way we did underground, humming and warbling deep in our throats. The lady said our songs reminded her of the way the monks in Tibet sang. I don’t know about that. It’s just how we sing. Our voices sounded good in the shelter, bouncing off the cement walls. The sound carried a long way, too. You could put different meanings
into the sound, if you wanted to sneak a message past the Bigs who enslaved us down below. The first time I told a story, I started at the beginning, telling about Sam and Emily and Arthur and all the first ones. I didn’t think it anything special until I looked up and saw that everyone had tears about to spill out of their eyes. When I’d been telling a little bit every night, Mel Abrams started teaching me to read. Mel was a teacher and a revolutionary before the world blew up. He was Jer the Tek’s teacher and friend. He teaches
everyone here, whether they like it or not.
After I had told stories for few weeks, Mel got the “wonderful idea” that I should make the stories into a book. “How can I write a book?” I said. “I cannot write.” “This is what we’re going to do,” Mel said. “I’m going to record your stories and transcribe them. When you can spell the words from hearing the sounds, you’ll do it yourself. Then we’ll start polishing.” I would write a chapter or two, and then he would read it
and say, “Yes, but your POV”— that means “point of view”—“ jumps here, and this goes on too long. You need to watch your punctuation. This doesn’t move the story forward.” Somewhere along the way, I learned to use a computer. That made it easier. Then I wrote this story on the computer, instead of telling it at the campfires at night. I’m glad of that, because I didn’t want to tell parts of this story around the children. There’s nothing wrong with
people knowing that their ancestors were real people and went to bed with each other and made mistakes. But the kids ought at least to grow up enough to read about it, rather than hearing it by accident at a campfire. Some bad things happened down there. I’d just as soon not tell anyone about them, but a record should be kept. Maybe people will learn from it. In the end, I wrote this book because my ancestors wanted me to do it. They’d come to me, raucous like a flock of crows, and flap around in my head until I wrote what they wanted.
Whatever Mel thinks, I expect that my stories and this book will die on this ledge with me. But, even if they do, those who came before want those who came after to know what happened. I offer you this story with love in my heart and gratitude that I have the life I do. I survived when so many others didn’t. This is the story of my ancestors, Sam Baahuhd and Emily, who loved each other beyond death. Sam Good Man Who is also Sam of Emily,
the last Sam Baahuhd, the headman of the village and the people who live on the cliff by the river. I am the man who wed the lady and will love her forever. ~~~
The Headman and The Assassin:
Earth's End 3
By Sandy Nathan
It was never intended by Jeremy's family that their servants, their slaves, would be saved in the technologically innovating underground bunker that they had created and built across the world. Those to be saved were scholars, scientists, and others with the expertise to continue to work, survive and come out to begin rebuilding all that had been destroyed...
But it had all come too fast, the destruction had already begun and, unless the bunker would remain empty, the only people who could quickly move into the bunker to be closed were all of the farm workers. None of them could read or write. The small community had been inbred for generations. But perhaps worst of all, the rich owners of the property had cared little about the personal lives of their employees.
Jeremy had cared enough to go to the Headman, Sam, and discuss everything with him, placing him in charge. He had also had one of his fellow staff members willing to go into the bunker with them and hopefully work to train some of the people to handle the system created to keep them all alive...
Jeremy was scheduled to travel to another planet but tried to point out as much as he could about problems Sam might face as leader. Off the top of his head, he quickly told him the facts: continuing to marry cousins was ultimately going to lead to genetic issues and he should ensure that no drink or drugs be allowed.
Sam took his new responsibility and immediately tried to proceed with what Jeremy had told him. But since he was one of the last to enter the bunker, and saw a lone woman who was hurt, he picked her up and took her inside...
The first edict that Sam implemented was that anybody who was married to their own relatives were divorced by his decree. That included his four wives...
Of course, all individuals would be provided for with supplies that had already been stored so that divorced wives would still have everything they needed...except a male companion...
In the meantime, Sam took the outsider into his room to recover and he ultimately fell in love for the first time in his life. Yeah...but... He was so sappy in love that the rest of the people became upset and angry...Sam had forced divorces to supposedly stop the inbreeding...but he was also totally involved with a new woman...
Readers will learn about the proclivities of the community; specifically related to drinking, drugs, and multi-partner sex. Shutting up a small group who had lived that way for many generations could only lead to disaster...the type of disaster that we discovered in book 2 when the inbreeding had created genetic deformities of all kinds...
Now, here's the...yeah, but...it could be assumed, at least I did, that the supernatural powers that the villagers all had to a small or greater extent, was caused by the inbreeding. Sam, the Headman, for instance, could heal people and also could control, when necessary, others by simply using "The Voice..."
At the same time, he had been just as involved with the "fun" activities of the village and it was well known that he'd been with every woman that was now in the bunker and deprived of their husbands...
And then there were the criminal types who had been living in the village, making the hooch; growing the weed...and selling to make their money. At no time were they even willing to consider eliminating those activities...
But nobody, including Sam, was prepared to learn that there was already a genetic issue, from Sam, that was now a part of nearly all the occupants... And if they wanted to keep the population fairly stagnant as people died, there should only be certain men and women who could mate together...
And one of those men who could breed was a Black man who had volunteered to go underground with them and try to teach the others how to survive... Now racial tension became part of the mix...
I had to wonder whether, if the scholars and scientists had made it into the bunker, how much different it would have been than with the village people. Yes, they would have been able to read and write, but with the assumption that the stay in the bunker might be thousands of years, would the intellect continue to rule or would those same individuals have dropped back, as Maslow stated, requiring their basic needs and instincts had to be met before a human can ever look upward to higher more lofty goals... I've always believe in Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs and believe that anybody that was suddenly thrown into a catastrophic, isolated environment would ultimately have at least some percentage of the occupants become disruptive and dangerous people in this situation.
And, here's another yeah, but...you see, Emily had some...ah...mental issues...having been trained by the government...to kill...
I'm not going into the love story...it's the only bright spots of the storyline and though it was an unusual love...Sam is a character that quickly earns respect as he stepped up to the plate to lead this long-term mission...to stay alive...and go into an unknown future... He and Sam Good Man were my favorite characters...
Wow! The creative imagination of the author is well beyond what most of us could conceive. Yet, as a trilogy, the three books come together brilliantly as a study of human behavior in the worst of conditions--to keep on living only to keep from dying...
I've already said it's the best I've read in this genre... Especially, since it is based upon nuclear disaster of man destroying man. We are already there, aren't we? Me, I think I'd stay here in my home rather than move into a bunker with a hundred people I didn't know... What would YOU do? It's a lot easier to consider death when you see what could be the alternative...
An amazing, extraordinary, horrific, and yes, a brilliant wake-up tale of where the world may be headed. Kudos to Nathan for this award-winning trilogy, but, more, for being willing to confront many major issues that would undoubtedly appear...If...or when...
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