Book Review

I had such high hopes for my “Jazz, Joy & Justice” book and to date, the response has been underwhelming. I was hoping that at least all the music teachers I’ve trained in the Bay Area would rush to buy copies for their students and hey, why not invite the author, who lives nearby, to come speak? Since it was published in September, not a single such invite has come my way.

 

Likewise, no book reviews and invites to speak on radio or TV. Well, actually there was one TV Interview invite that I accepted, only to discover that I had to pay them a significant sum of money for the honor and privilege. Which I did, because I felt the book is worthy of a “whatever it takes” approach to publicity. (You can see the interview here: : Jazz, Joy and Justice on Spotlight with Logan Crawford).

 

But here teaching in Toronto, the first authentic reviews have now come in. I was hired to do what I do best—teach live hands-on music to kids of all ages, get them up joyfully playing, singing and dancing and even performing (tomorrow) with great kid energy and exuberance, but also fabulous music well-played. All that I have done. 

 

But since the 5^th grader’s theme is jazz, I left a little space to introduce my book and read from it. And I got three meaningful reviews:

 

In the first, I read about the mostly unknown musician Hazel Scott. The kids were somewhat intrigued by her story, but without knowing who she was or hearing and seeing what she did, their connection with her was a little abstract. Then came the punchline of showing the video of her playing two pianos at once in a Hollywood movie. Their mouths were agape with amazement and the story of how her career was cut short by racism, sexism and the Communist hysteria of the 50’s now sparked their outrage. One girl said, 

“Can I buy that book? I think that was really interesting!” First review.

 

In another class, I reversed the order and showed several videos of Sammy Davis Jr. Then when I read his chapter with the phrase, “How could one person have all that talent?!” they knew exactly what I meant as they saw him sing, scat sing, impersonate singers, play drums, vibraphone, trombone and piano and hey, might as well tap dance! Now they were really interested in— and again, shocked by— the story of his fellow soldiers in World War II beating him up every day as they fought side by side for “American freedom.” At the end, one girl shouted out, “Read another one!” Second review.

 

The last review came today after the 6^th grade class played Charlie Parker’s My Little Suede Shoes. After playing it, we gathered to hear his chapter in my book and the kids ended up being 100% with me that if we’re going to play someone’s music and enjoy it so much, we should learn something about her or him. And if that story involves the devastating effects of the white supremacy narrative, it’s the least we can do to consider how people making this music suffered from that and vow to change that story. This review came not from comments but from a quality of silence that spoke volumes about the importance of kids hearing these stories. When I began to read, there was a little fussing and side-talk amongst the kids spread out on the floor, but as I got deeper into the story, it got very quiet. 

 

I’m well acquainted with that rare quality of silence that sometimes is present in a talk or poetry reading or a concert. Indeed, after a shared poetry reading, two poets once asked each other if they felt the power in that room. One said, “It was as if they were listening like their lives depended on it.” Perhaps that’s a bit much to attribute to these 6^th grade girls, but I can testify that there was a feeling in that room far deeper than “business as usual.” And that meant the world to me.

 

I told the kids that that’s why I wrote this for kids. The adults are too busy rehearsing their fixed point of views to give these things the time and attention they deserve, but kids—like they showed me today— are really willing to think about these things. And then go back to Youtube to see and hear this joyous music yet again.

 

If the New York Review of Books ever calls me, I’ll send them to the kids.