Before You Suffocate Your Own Fool Self: Stories By Danielle Evans
If you, like me, have been picking books up for weeks, starting them & realizing about 30 pages that you do not care whatsoever about what is going on (Constant Gardener I am looking in your direction), perhaps you should give this book a try. It is scrumptious and excellent and has renewed my faith in the printed word. Thank you, Danielle Evans. Now hurry up and write some more stuff, please. 232 | | blog | tumblr | ko-fi | |
4 ½ stars
Before You Suffocate Your Own Fool Self is a fantastic collection of short stories. Having loved Evans' latest release, The Office of Historical Corrections, I had high hopes for this first collection and it did not disappoint. Each short story delivers, there isn't one 'weak' or boring story. Although they explore similar themes and subjects they offer different perspectives and or they reach contrasting conclusions. Evans' combines heart-rendering scenes with more light-hearted ones, and delivers her sharp commentary—on race, class, gender, sexuality—with a delightful side of humour.
I truly enjoyed this collection and I hope Evans will soon be publishing something new. 232 I usually have trouble loving short story collections but this one really won me over. Evans has constructed each story on large than life characters that we care about immediately. I've never read short stories like that before. The stories are longer than the usual 5-7 pages and maybe that's why I had the chance to really get into each story. The themes vary from race, to women issues to family and so forth. This is definitely 4,5 stars. I'm docking it a half star because I just didn't want it to end. Evans could make separate novels out of each short story. This is a definite read for short story lovers and those like me who don't. For the latter you'll be changed by Before you Suffocate your Own Fool Self. I'm already on the hunt for another collection that will top or at least live up to this one. 232 [3.75] Very well-written, substantial stories with fully developed characters. I loved the first two stories, Virgins and Snakes. Although the stories that followed were solid, I was a little disappointed after the magnificent start. I will read everything she writers - her subsequent collection The Office of Historical Corrections was a 5 star read for me. 232 After reading Evans's more recent collection, The Office of Historical Corrections, I was eager to go back and read her first book, another work of short fiction. These 8 stories have similar tones to her latest work, showing Evans has had a clear, strong vision from the start.
I particularly loved the story Snakes as well as Jellyfish. These ones, for me, had a great mix of plot and action with interesting character descriptions. Evans has a steady hand when creating characters, doling out information at the right time and usually upending things a bit by the end. Her stories aren't flashy or ridiculous. She focuses on people who, from the outside, seem just like you and me, but there's often much more brewing below the surface.
There are threads of many themes throughout these stories, including the struggles of growing up, confronting the reality in front of you versus the one you may have imagined. Evans also often muses on young womanhood, especially through characters who feel ostracized or separate from the people in their lives.
The title of the collection comes from Donna Kate Rushkin's The Bridge Poem which is apt for this collection that focuses on how these characters either serve as a bridge for others or are searching for a bridge in their lives, as they seek to overcome some obstacle. 232
i found this book exceptional. do you remember when jhumpa lahiri debuted with Interpreter of Maladies and everyone went WHOA? Before You Suffocate Your Own Fool Self is that good, though i'll be surprised if everyone goes WHOA, because, let's face it, the readership for young African American female writers is different from the readership for young Asian American female writers. and by different i don't only mean different, but i mean smaller, something i invite all readers of this teensy ickle review to remedy immediately.
beside being WHOA-worthy, these two books have this in common: they pack a punch. danielle evans is less gentle about the punch than jhumpa lahiri. i read this book in a daze because i was tired, independently, and i hope to read it again sometime soon. but i was also dazed by how much these stories contain. young men and women navigating the cusp of adulthood (a process that may and often does take many more years than the designated number), with few and inadequate tools to do so, in a world they have a dated code to understand, and so so alone.
yet, aren't we all? who are the guides of our transition from childhood into adulthood? and the guides of our transition from, say, being 20 to being 40? and who are the guides of our transition from being 40 to being 70? you'd figure that, this process being, literally, a matter of life and death, we would have built a system of chaperoning, mentoring, holding, advising -- also a system in which there is room for people to rest, take long breaks, check out for a bit, find their 20s feet or their 40s feet or their 70s feets.
instead, all we have as guides, most often, is tv shows. really. that's it. tv shows. we are not only alone but lied to, everyday.
but i'm getting sidetracked. danielle evans doesn't mention (that i remember) tv shows, but she does bring up, over and over and with stunningly insight and subtlety, how woefully unprepared we all are to face the world.
this book is significantly devoid of parents. i don't think evans means to say that most parents are bad parents, but i do think she means to tell us that, often, they just don't or can't keep up (cuz no one can).
finally, a comment on the title. unlike the vast majority of short story collections, the title here does not come from any of the short stories, but from a poem by danna kate rushin, a black feminist poet. the poem is called The Bridge Poem and if you read it in its entirely (and i hope you will) you will see that it's about translating -- people to people, cultures to cultures -- and being really, really tired of doing so. this is not a recent poem (i'm going to guess it was written in the 80s). following a small section of it in the epigram page there are two lines by audre lorde, another feminist black poet, that go: I do not believe our wants/have made all our lies holy.
at first, since i didn't remember who rushin is, i read the excerpt from her poem as the tired lamentation of a woman who has to deal with clueless men. but no, this is the tired lamentation of a woman who has to deal with clueless everyone. maybe the mysterious lines from the lorde poem are also about excuses for not being willing to engage in the hard work of interpreting and understanding life.
and this is how, finally, i read both epigrams together. as if evans, this young black feminist who writes with equal compassion about men and women, were picking up the slack and giving these old (i'm not talking about age) and valiant warriors a break and a spell. i hear her saying, hey guys, you can get a spot of rest now. let me pick up the battle. i'm young and the world has changed. hey, it has not changed much for the better, but maybe it has changed enough that y'all can rest and let me carry on your work. i feel fresh and i feel equipped. plus, quite honestly, i'm a heck of a writer.
232 My favorite book of the year. It was such a satisfying, well-written collection with these awesome stories I keep wanting to read over and over again. 232 The first two short stories in this collection literally had me making noises on my couch. Throughout Before You Suffocate Your Own Fool Self, Danielle Evans shares the pains, intimacies, and moments of (dis)connection that make adolescence and young adulthood so rife with feeling. In the first story, “Virgins,” I literally laughed so hard at the dialogue, before experiencing a quiet yet profound sadness at the ways in which the young female narrator comes to understand the many degrees of danger for girls just trying to exist in the world. I appreciated how, throughout this collection, Evans focuses on the interior lives of Black girls, some of whom are biracial, without making their entire narratives solely about their race.
When I read the second story, “Snakes,” I’m pretty sure I actually screamed out loud at the ending (idk if I’m a mediocre book reviewer for relying on descriptions of me ejecting noise from my mouth to pump up the hype, but whatever.) “Snakes” follows a young biracial nine-year-old, Tara, who’s dropped off at her white grandmother’s house by her parents for an entire summer – Tara’s mother fell out of touch with Tara’s grandmother a while ago and, in Tara’s view, offers Tara’s summer visit as a “peace offering” of sorts. This freaking short story had everything: a vulnerable, perceptive, and consistent narrator, complicated yet understandable parental dynamics transmitted across generations, subtle and effectively-placed commentary on race, omg-this-is-so-good level foreshadowing, and an ending that almost got me as shaken as when I hear the bridge of BlackPink’s song “Lovesick Girls.” I feel like short stories that can win me over almost impress me more than novels given the shorter page length eliciting a commensurate amount of emotional payoff. “Snakes” accomplished that feat and I please recommend you read the collection just so we can fanhuman the freak out about it afterward.
The rest of the stories felt more in the 3-3.5 range for me, perhaps because of how much I absolutely loved “Snakes” and enjoyed “Virgins.” Evans embodies each story with nuanced takes on the insecurities that accompany coming of age and the ruptures and repairs that can occur within family relationships. While these later stories felt interesting, none of them felt as definitive as the first two stories. I walked away from each one thinking something along the lines of like, “well that was interesting angst” and “lol well I hope X character figures their life out at some point.” I don’t feel like I wanted more resolution as much as I wanted each of the later stories to make more of an impact.
Recommended for those interested in short stories. Evans’s writing reminded me of Caucasia by Danzy Senna, one of my favorite books I read this year, as well as the amazing short story I read during my undergraduate education (weird af that my undergrad days were over three years ago now, lol), “Brownies” by ZZ Packer, whose full collection Drinking Coffee Elsewhere I still want to read. Evans published another collection this year which I am excited to read soon! 232 This is a marvellous collection of 8 short stories from the talented Danielle Evans, I loved her The Office of Historical Corrections, and whilst not every story worked for me, I appreciated the strong element of universality. There is a focus on young black and mixed race girls and women, and a PTSD suffering Iraq war veteran in the following:
Virgins
Snakes
Harvest
Someone Ought to Tell Her Nowhere to Go
The King of the Vast Empire
Jellyfish
Wherever You Go, There You Are
Robert E. Lee is Dead
This collection is about glimpses into life and all it entails, it's ambiguity, issues that include race, inequality, gender, identity, coming of age, naivety, being bright, sexuality, the complex nature of relationships, love and friendships, personal challenges, everyday microaggressions, family, leaving others behind, and the crushing disappointments. Most of the characterisations are stellar, and there is wit and heartbreak, a toxic and cruel Florida grandmother barely sees her granddaughter, spending the summer with her, what with her not being white, this story, Snakes, turned out to be a real highlight for me with its surprising ending. This is a short story collection I can recommend. Many thanks to the publisher for an ARC. 232 After reading the reviews of a couple of GR buddies, this sounded like something I would enjoy. Unfortunately, I had trouble falling into step with the stories. The story entitled Snakes was the exception, and it made the time spent a worthy enough investment. As it turns out, the title of this collection was my favorite thing about the book. 232
Before You Suffocate Your Own Fool Self offers a bold new perspective on the experience of being young and African-American or mixed-race in modern-day America.
In each of her stories, Danielle Evans explores the non-white American experience with honesty, wisdom, and humor. They are striking in their emotional immediacy, based in a world where inequality is a reality, but the insecurities of young adulthood and tensions within family are often the more complicating factors.
One of the most lauded debuts of the year, Before You Suffocate Your Own Fool Self announces a major new talent in Danielle Evans.
Virgins --
Snakes --
Harvest --
Someone ought to tell her there's nowhere to go --
The king of a vast empire --
Jellyfish --
Wherever you go, there you are --
Robert E. Lee is dead