Invisible Child: Poverty, Survival & Hope in an American City by Andrea Elliott was a gift from my son Jon. The New York Times selected “Invisible Child” as one of the best books published this year. It is indeed one of the top books on my all-time list.

GoodReads summary provides a good overview,

The riveting, unforgettable story of a girl whose indomitable spirit is tested by homelessness, poverty, and racism in an unequal America—from Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Andrea Elliott of The New York Times

Invisible Child follows eight dramatic years in the life of Dasani Coates, a child with imagination as soaring as the skyscrapers near her Brooklyn homeless shelter. Born at the turn of a new century, Dasani is named for the bottled water that comes to symbolize Brooklyn’s gentrification and the shared aspirations of a divided city. As Dasani grows up, moving with her tight-knit family from shelter to shelter, this story goes back to trace the passage of Dasani’s ancestors from slavery to the Great Migration north. When Dasani comes of age, New York City’s homeless crisis explodes as the chasm deepens between rich and poor.

In the shadows of this new Gilded Age, Dasani must lead her seven siblings through a thicket of problems: hunger, parental drug addiction, violence, housing instability, segregated schools, and the constant monitoring of the child-protection system. When, at age thirteen, Dasani enrolls at a boarding school in Pennsylvania, her loyalties are tested like never before. As she learns to “code switch” between the culture she left behind and the norms of her new town, Dasani starts to feel like a stranger in both places. Ultimately, she faces an impossible question: What if leaving poverty means abandoning the family you love?

By turns heartbreaking and revelatory, provocative and inspiring, Invisible Child tells an astonishing story about the power of resilience, the importance of family, and the cost of inequality. Based on nearly a decade of reporting, this book vividly illuminates some of the most critical issues in contemporary America through the life of one remarkable girl.

Jan and I were involved and knew that child poverty and homelessness needed repair. In addition, Jan lived on Washington Park across from Ft. Greene Park in 1974-75. We knew the neighborhood where much of the book’s story takes place. 

Before meeting Jan in 1973, I was both a community/tenant organizer and a youth worker. In the latter role, I made weekly hostel trips for eight to ten young boys from East Williamsburg during 1973. The trips were the first the boys had ever been outside of their neighborhood.

Many of them had imaginations like Dasani. They also had her instinct to fight. One of my first tasks was to check for any weapons.

Decades later, when I would see any of them, now adults, they would ask when we were going on another trip. I wish I had met Jan when I made those trips. She would have helped me improve them and document the impact. If I could re-write history, I would have her join me as the second adult on the hostel trips.

After that summer, it was clear my primary skills were as a community/tenant organizer. Over the next few years, my work focused on creating affordable and supportive housing.

Jan and I did meaningful work that made a difference, yet the need for a permanent solution to the crisis remains. The book highlights the crucial role of resilience, the importance of family, and the cost of inequality. As a nation, we cannot undermine those values by breaking up families, impeding resilience, and maintaining racial and economic inequality. 

The current debate in Washington over the Build Back Better legislation needs to focus not on how much we spend but on its impact on children and families. 

David Brooks, a conservative commentator, has supported these expenditures for what they can do to address this country’s cultural and economic crisis. 

These packages say to the struggling parents and the warehouse workers: I see you. Your work has dignity. You are paving your way. You are at the center of our national vision.

This is how you fortify a compelling moral identity, which is what all of us need if we’re going to be able to look in the mirror with self-respect. This is the cultural transformation that good policy can sometimes achieve. Statecraft is soulcraft.

If you can only read one book this year, this is the one to read. Child poverty, homelessness, and inequality impact all of us. Ending child poverty and homelessness will make us a healthier and more inclusive nation. It is time for a compelling moral call to action!

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The Passing Storm by Christine Nolfi is a gripping, openhearted novel about family, reconciliation, and bringing closure to the secrets of the past. From the first chapter, it was a pageturner and a book that engaged me when I needed to focus on life’s challenges. I was looking for something different from my most recent books.

I very much enjoyed this novel. It is focused on losses, including one parent and a daughter. I had not anticipated that but found that Ms. Nolfi handled that in an empathic way that did not trigger my grief but helped me understand my grief. The primary characters Rae, Quinn, Connor, and Griffin are brought to life by the writer. It left me wanting to know what happens to them now that they have survived the early stages of grief.

The Goodreads summary provides a good overview.

Early into the turbulent decade of her thirties, Rae Langdon struggles to work through grief she never anticipated. With her father, Connor, she tends to their Ohio farm, a forty-acre spread that has enjoyed better days. As memories sweep through her, some too precious to bear, Rae gives shelter from a brutal winter to a teenager named Quinn Galecki.

His parents have thrown out Quinn, a couple too troubled to help steer the misunderstood boy through his losses. Now Quinn has found a temporary home with the Langdons—and an unexpected kinship because Rae, Quinn, and Connor share a past and understand one another’s pain. But its depths—and all its revelations and secrets—have yet to come to light. To finally move forward, Rae must confront them and fight for Quinn, whose parents have other plans for their son.

There might be hope for a new season with forgiveness, love, and the spring thaw—a second chance Rae believed in her heart was gone forever.

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Today, I embarked on the unique narrative journey of The Sellout: A Novel by Paul Beatty. This biting satire, which revolves around a young man’s isolated upbringing and the race trial that takes him to the Supreme Court, is a testament to Paul Beatty‘s comic genius. The Sellout, a part of The New York Times’ 100 Best Books of the Century, is a must-read for those who appreciate a distinct narrative style.

The Sellout is a bold and thought-provoking work that challenges the sacred tenets of the United States Constitution, urban life, and the civil rights movement. It also explores the father-son relationship and the pursuit of racial equality, symbolized by the black Chinese restaurant. This social commentary is a vital aspect of The Sellout, making it a relevant and engaging read for those interested in contemporary issues.

Born in the “agrarian ghetto” of Dickens—on the southern outskirts of Los Angeles—the narrator of The Sellout resigns himself to the fate of lower-middle-class Californians: “I’d die in the same bedroom I’d grown up in, looking up at the cracks in the stucco ceiling that’s been there since ’68 quake.”

Raised by a single father, a controversial sociologist, he spent his childhood as the subject of racially charged psychological studies. Despite these challenges, he believes his father’s pioneering work will result in a memoir that will solve his family’s financial woes. But when his father is killed in a police shoot-out, he realizes there never was a memoir. All that’s left is the bill for a drive-thru funeral.

Fuelled by this deceit and the general disrepair of his hometown, the narrator sets out to right another wrong: Dickens has been removed from the map to save California from further embarrassment. Enlisting the help of the town’s most famous resident—the last surviving Little Rascal, Hominy Jenkins—he initiates the most outrageous action conceivable: reinstating slavery and segregating the local high school, which lands him in the Supreme Court. His determination to fight injustice is a powerful force that drives the narrative forward.

Today, I started reading “A Mercy” by Toni Morrison. The acclaimed Nobel Prize winner explores the complexities of slavery in this novel. Like “Beloved,” it tells the poignant story of a mother and her daughter—a mother who abandons her child to protect her and a daughter who struggles with that abandonment. “A Mercy” is also recognized as one of The New York Times’s 100 Best Books of the 21st Century.

In the 1680s, a tumultuous period in the Americas, the slave trade is still in its infancy. Jacob Vaark, an Anglo-Dutch trader and adventurer, navigates this harsh landscape with a small holding in the North. Despite his distaste for dealing in “flesh,” he takes a small slave girl in part payment for a bad debt from a plantation owner in Catholic Maryland. She is Florens, a girl who can read and write and might be helpful on his farm. Rejected by her mother, Florens embarks on a journey for love, first seeking it from Lina, an older servant woman at her new master’s house, and later from the handsome blacksmith, an African, never enslaved, who comes riding into their lives.

I recently read “Something About Living” by Lena Khalaf Tuffaha, a poet and essayist whose work resonates deeply. The book of poems won the 2024 National Book Award for Poetry and delved into Palestinian life through the lens of the American language, revealing a legacy of obfuscation and erasure. It questions what happens when language packages ongoing disasters for consumption and disposal.

As a Jew supporting a two-state solution, I initially hesitated to read this collection of poems. However, I was pleasantly surprised by the lyrical beauty of the verses, which explore love not just as an emotion but as a transformative force and “a radical act.” Every poem that genuinely resonated with me. “Something About Living” is a book I highly recommend for its depth and insight!

Ms. Khalaf Tuffaha has an incredible literary repertoire; her previous work, “Water & Salt,” earned the esteemed 2018 Washington State Book Award, while “Kaan & Her Sisters” was a finalist for the Firecracker Award. In addition, “Something About Living” also received the 2022 Akron Prize for Poetry. I’m excited to explore her profound insights and lyrical mastery!

Adrian Matejka, the author of “Somebody Else Sold the World,” has written about “Something About Living,”

“It’s nearly impossible to write poetry that holds the human desire for joy and the insistent agitations of protest at the same time, but Lena Khalaf Tuffaha‘s gorgeous and wide-ranging new collection Something About Living does just that. Her poems interweave Palestine’s historic suffering, the challenges of living in this world full of violence and ill will, and the gentle delights we embrace to survive that violence. Khalaf Tuffaha’s elegant poems sing the fractured songs of Diaspora while remaining clear-eyed to the cause of the fracturing: the multinational hubris of colonialism and greed. This collection is her witness to our collective unraveling, vowel by vowel, syllable by syllable. “Let the plural be a return of us,” the speaker of “On the Thirtieth Friday We Consider Plurals” says and this plurality is our tenuous humanity and the deep need to hang on to kindness in our communities. In these poems Khalaf Tuffaha reminds us that love isn’t an idea; it is a radical act. Especially for those who, like this poet, travel through the world vigilantly, but steadfastly remain heart first.

Today, I embarked on the literary journey of We the Animals by Justin Torres. This novel, listed among the New York Times’ 100 Best Books of the Century, is a groundbreaking work of art. The author of Blackouts immerses us in the tumultuous heart of a family, the intense bonds of three brothers, and the mythic impact of this fierce love on the individuals we are destined to become.

The narrative unfolds as three brothers navigate their way through childhood, a journey filled with emotional highs and lows, from playful acts like smashing tomatoes on each other to finding solace in each other’s company during their parents’ conflicts and even tiptoeing around the house as their mother rests after her graveyard shift. Paps and Ma, hailing from Brooklyn—he’s Puerto Rican, she’s white—share a profound and challenging love, shaping and reshaping the family numerous times. Life in this family is intense and all-consuming, filled with disorder, heartache, and the ecstasy of belonging to each other.

From the intense familial unity, a child feels to the profound alienation he endures as he begins to see the world, this beautiful novel doesn’t just tell a coming-of-age story; it reinvents it in a sly and punch-in-the-stomach powerful way. It delves into themes such as love, the meaning of family, and heartache, adding another layer of depth and complexity to the story.

When No One Is Watching by Alyssa Cole is a novel where the gentrification of a Brooklyn neighborhood takes on a sinister new meaning.

Sydney Green is Brooklyn-born and raised, but her beloved neighborhood seems to change every time she blinks. Condos are sprouting like weeds, FOR SALE signs are popping up overnight, and the neighbors she’s known all her life are disappearing. To hold onto her community’s past and present, Sydney channels her frustration into a walking tour and finds an unlikely and unwanted assistant in one of the new arrivals to the block—her neighbor Theo.

But Sydney and Theo’s deep dive into history quickly becomes a dizzying descent into paranoia and fear. After all, their neighbors may not have moved to the suburbs, and the push to revitalize the community may be more deadly than advertised.

When does coincidence become a conspiracy? Where do people go when gentrification pushes them out? Can Sydney and Theo trust each other—or themselves—long enough to find out before they too disappear?

Having lived in Brooklyn and seen the impacts of gentrification, redlining, and other practices, I found this book one that I truly enjoyed. The book will provide a detailed history lesson if you are like Theo and have no thought of these issues.

I enjoyed the visit to Weeksville, as I have been there on several professional occasions. The history of that community needs to be told.

I recommend this book.

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