Book Review: It's Turning Purple, I Think We Should Quit by Thor M.F.Jones

Lo People,

Ya'll know Her Tangh-i-ness likes reading about sex

Problem is with all the bodice ripping, wanna-be story of O, or just Nine-and-A-Half-Weeks out there, not enough is written about Femdoms. So this reader being a FemDom, the title alone of It's Turning Purple, I Think We Should Quit, rated I've got to read this.



To make it easy for potential readers of this book, Her Tangh-i-ness will return to her personal rating system.
TAMTT *Take A Minute to Think* This means the sexiness might have to grow on you. Check.
WT *Wet* Self-explanatory. No? Check.
H/OA *Hand/Object Assisted* Requires immediate action after the story climax. Check.
FAPP *Find a Partner Pronto* Try this one at home, Folks. Check.
*Spoiler Alert* Her Tangh-i-ness greatly appreciates pithy plot summaries.
However, for those who must have a virgin reading experience, read no further, and eyeball elsewhere.

Agnes Reign sets her sights on a male exotic dancer whom she compromises and he ends up as her pool boy. But what about all the toys used, the sub space, and the techniques, the experienced Kinksters ask? Think of this book as a smutty hors d'oeuvre. Just smack your lips at the flavor and make eyes at the chef...er...writer.

It's Turning Purple, I Think We Should Quit is just about Femdoms having fun like those Sex in the City ladies. That's it.

*Spoiler Alert End*



Note: This copy of It's Turning Purple, I Think We Should Quit was an electronic edition purchased by the reviewer. Her Tangh-i-ness usually reviews on a for-the-love basis. No lucre has been involved.

In Defense of Wish-Fullfillment

In Defense of Wish-Fullfillment (An Essay about Writing) by Jarla Tangh





I’ve had it pointed out to me that I write wish-fulfillment stories.

My sister, Bobbi another writer, once took pleasure in a YA series called Sweet Valley High that I loathed. She loved it because it had the 1st-world problems of why won’t anyone in my peer group take me seriously, along with what dress to wear to that event, and what boy would be with the female characters on their quest to have an enviable semester or was it a summer. Who with any brain cells cares?

Yeah, I said it.

Sweet Valley High did nothing for me, as one can see, from my frothing at the mouth. First of all, the characters looked nothing like me. It’s not that I can’t relate to nonBlack characters. I’ll have you know I adore Lucy and Edmund Pevensie. The lovely thing about Narnia is I was able to just dwell there without being reminded of my otherness. C.S. Lewis put two humans in front of me and I wanted to know what would happen with the faun and the lion everyone kept talking about.

I am other. I am also Black. I accept that. So I want to read happy stories about others and Black characters that have magical things happening. I don’t want my others or my Black characters to suffer or struggle. People with 1st-world or Mainstream American problems do not get what it is to walk outside the door in public without being attacked for being other, specifically, Black. So why do I want to read or see others and Blacks getting attacked until the end?

Please don’t tell me that I’ll be inspired. I am not. I get angry. I have suffering and struggle in my ancestry.

It has me cringing when faced with people who look like me still living in tin-roofed shacks with outhouses in North Carolina. Where the hate in a general store leaves the tongue petrified to the floor of one’s mouth when a storekeeper barks at you. If I gave into the urge to verbally dismantle the bigot, I’d possibly end up at the end of a shotgun.

It’s self-preservation that ruled the day there. I understood I didn’t matter to the bigot and there would be no success in attempting to change his mind.

Everything in genre fiction follows the idea that after a character has been through sufficient Hell, they may, or may not, have a happy ending. A dwarf or several may die, and a sandworm will drown. Whole families try to exterminate each other.

It’s the tension and the suspense that will keep one turning pages.

Sometimes.

Other times, I just throw the book across the room, and if I’m truly peeved I will have to write my own interpretation of whatever the concept driving the reviled novel or story.

Mine is the mind that thinks a white ex-con who accidentally killed a Black woman’s child ends up as her male submissive instead of that best-seller about the college girl who dallies with getting spanked by a tycoon.

But enough about me.

There are times I just long to be transported as I was with Octavia Butler’s Wildseed, Craig Laurance Gidney’s Skin Deep Magic, Milton Davis’s From Here to Timbuktu, Charles Saunder’s Imaro, Valjeanne Jeffers’ Colony Ascension: An Erotic Space Opera, and Samuel Delany’s Tales of Nevèrÿon.

But those stories have struggle and suffering in them and even plots, you say.

That wasn’t why I kept reading them. I read them because of each author’s brand wish-fulfillment spoke to me. I wish there was a Black Adventurer with a sword instead of that Cimmerian barbarian guy to read. I wish there was a Black woman who could change shape and stand up to a difficult antagonist who falls in love with her. I wish that a gay slave could choose to re-purpose a slave collar into a love token with another gay slave.

I took in these author’s wishes for their characters loud and clear and felt compelled to know how they worked out. So in my own works, I will not be focused on themes, or plots, but what can I wish for these characters that I want to read?

Oh, dear, am I being a Contrarian again?



—Her Tangh-i-ness

Book Review: Ofo Ase 365 Daily Affirmations to Awaken the Afrikan Warrior Within by Balogun Ojetade

Ofo Ase 365 Daily Affirmations to Awaken the Afrikan Warrior Within by Balogun Ojetade

'Lo People,


This is a Her Tangh-i-ness Approved read. I needed this book right now to remember no matter how much the media and the nonBlack culture wants to denigrate people who look like me, I am free to absorb another message. Let us see what Babalorisha Balogun Ojetade has to tell us about using the power of words.

Affirmation "6. I am a great protector of my family, community and people."

Ofo Ase 365 Daily Affirmations to Awaken the Afrikan Warrior Within is a book about the practice of using Affirmations with an Afrikan mindset. Etymologically speaking, Ofo Ase can mean sorcery ọfọ, aṣẹ decree or command, and it can also contain àṣẹ order.

Affirmation "37. I am granted a warrior's strength by the Universe around me."

The Fluidity that Ofo Ase speaks of is a critical skill to cultivate. All those Believers in Ifa and Orisha who are ruled by water will nod in agreement at this. This book is valuable for pointing out that even warriors should not, and need not war all the time. Fluidity is resilience.

Affirmation "87. I fight to bring the power of good into the world."

However, warriors are vigilant. Warriors must know when to flow away and when to engage.

Affirmation "90. I am ever victorious because I expect to win."

It is no surprise really that when Ogun, the West African deity of Iron, War and Creativity shut himself up in the forest, it was the sweet water that brought him back. Therefore I giggled when 2/3rds into the book we come to...

Affirmation "272. I attract love and romance."

It's no secret Her Tangh-i-ness loves books on Manifesting and the laws of Attraction. Most of the time Her Tangh-i-ness is mellow so people assume she's a lover not a fighter. I got news for ya'll. My daddy is an Ogun. Really. No kidding.


Note: Ofo Ase 365 Daily Affirmations to Awaken the Afrikan Warrior Within was a self-purchased digital title. Her Tangh-i-ness usually reviews on a for-the-love basis. No lucre has been involved.

Book Review: From Here to Timbuktu by Milton Davis

'Lo People,


I'm gonna school ya on why this book is important.
From Here to Timbuktu had me when I turned the page to the map of an alternate US where the original 13 colonies, NY, PA,part of VA,OH,IN,IL,MI and WI are all that's left of the United States. The southern belt with the exception of Florida and Louisiana has been amassed into a territory called Freedonia bordered another large territory called New Haiti. Texas and California and Florida have all remained in Spanish hands.
I'm saying to myself what's the story here?

I'm told it's from the sub-genre Steamfunk (Afro steampunk). What the hell is that, you say? It means there's no rayguns or automatic weapons. People still ride horses. Lots of airships are spanning continents. Long story short, this book takes place after the American Civil War and probably a decade before the 1920s. There are poisonings, bullets flying, killer mechanical cats, and ancient alien technology. By the way, all the sex happens between scenes in the minds of the readers who were looking for smut on the actual pages. (Yes, Her Tangh-i-ness was gonna go there.)

When I was a teen, I read Robert E. Howard, Edgar Rice Burroughs, and H. Rider Haggard in hopes of reading about characters who looked like me doing cool stuff. If I could have gotten away with shoving Milton Davis into a wayback machine and hitting the button, I would. This. This is the stuff I should have been reading as a youngster. I was starving for it. The idea that Harriet Tubman or Fredrick Douglass could have ended up a president. The idea that ancient Black people had books at all might come as a shock to some. The idea that African peoples have had alien contact doesn't seem bandied about much either.

Best of all, as a woman, I soooo enjoy seeing women being just as badass as their male counterparts. Menna needs her own book. I figure the spirited sort of man could convince her to harness that formidable will of hers into more constructive uses. Just sayin'. Hint. Hint.

*Spoiler Alert*

Her Tangh-i-ness greatly appreciates pithy plot summaries. However, for those who must have a virgin reading experience, read no further, and eyeball elsewhere.


*Spoiler Alert End*

Remember these names:

Wagadu- a lost ancient city, a site of first contact
Famara Keita- a horro, an elite warrior
Zeke Culpepper- a church deacon, gunslinger, and bounty-hunter
Annette Bijoux- a machete-wielding singer from New Haiti
Menna- female Ihaggaren assassin, sister and rival of El Tellak for the leadership of the kel
El Tellak- the leader of the Ihaggaren Tuareg
Dolph Ericksson- Prussian Field Marshall and closet academic
Claus Reuters- the Prussian General determined to prove Dolph's obsession is a waste
Pierre LaRue- New Haitian expatriate and socialite

This novel could have been subtitled the book of the double-cross. Famara Keita has to pluck two highly coveted tomes from a Tuareg warlord and transplanted New Haitian socialite. Menna wants to wrestle the leadership of the kel from her brother El Tellak. Claus Reuters wants to prove that Dolph's obsession with the books is a waste of Prussian resources. The only character who engages in relatively little two-timing is Zeke Culpepper.

As an inveterate book hoarder, I totally get why having a plot revolve about missing ancient African books ought to be a Bestseller. Gimme my good reads!

Famara Keita strides onto the page deep in the Sahara to knife El Tellak and steal the book that El Tellak meant to turn over to Dolph Ericksson. The scene ends with Keita single-handedly taking down a Prussian airship with only a bullet to the shoulder to slow him. Calling all auteurs. Calling all auteurs. Can someone please shoot that opening action sequence like yesterday? I need t see it on a big screen. Zeke Culpepper enters next moving from passing the collection plate, to being enlisted by a Sheriff and Deputy to take down a wanted gang. Apparently, Keita and Culpepper's paths are meant to cross.

Field Marshall Dolph Ericksson fumes at the loss of the first book that the horro, Famara Keita, has stolen and plots to take the second book which had ended up in Zeke Culpepper's Freedonia. El Tellak recovers from his near death experience at Famara Keita's hands. These two men, and Menna, form the triumvirate of problems facing Famara Keita and Zeke Culpepper. Dolph Ericksson had already put the arcane knowledge found in the stolen books to work and he longs to complete the technological advantage their secrets have given. Already a scientist under his direction used the information to create clockwork cat sentries that hold a town in terror.

The second book in Freedonia brings Famara Keita in search of it. His mission is to bring it back to Timbuktu and to the oversight of the elders. Zeke Culpepper takes down his latest bounty unaware how much his own life will be changing. Menna travels Famara Keita's homeland in search of him and kiling as she goes. El Tellak concentrates on saving face amongst his own people and managing his murderous sister. Pierre LaRue hosts the bonne soirée that intended to celebrate his ownership of the Fredonian tome but nearly ends his wife's life and his own when Famara makes off with the book with Dolph and his Prussian agents hot on his heels. Zeke Culpepper answers an urgent summons from LaRue. Culpepper finds himself hired to go after the book. He's been promised a substantial for his efforts. So Zeke Culpepper joins the chase that will lead Famara Keita, Menna, Dolph Ericksson to Lorraine, France and Annette Bijoux, and then to Bavaria, and finally to Timbutku in Africa itself. Thirty gold pieces exchanged between Famara Keita and Zeke Culpepper outstrips the bounty Pierre LaRue offered. After all, LaRue made promises while Keita actually delivers solid evidence of Culpepper's best financial interest. In retrieving the Freedonian book and returning it to the African Elders, Zeke Culpepper faces a deeper calling. Somehow, I suppose we haven't seen the last of the gun-slinging church deacon.



Note: This copy of From Here to Timbuktu was an Amazon ebook purchased by the reviewer. Her Tangh-i-ness usually reviews on a for-the-love basis. No lucre has been involved.

Book Review: Skin Deep Magic by Craig Laurance Gidney

I adore short stories, especially fantastical ones. My acquaintance with Craig Laurence Gidney's work actually begins with the YA novel, Bereft, but that's another book to mention in its own review.

I knew I needed to read Skin Deep Magic when I saw the cover.

There's a dark-skinned Black woman's face with eyes closed framed by gold leaves and blossoms. I'm old enough to remember when it wasn't common to see a Black woman on a cover. Even the great departed Octavia Butler was not safe from a Marketing department that believed no one would buy a book with a picture of a Black person on the cover. I must be an anomaly then, because I am one of those Readers who is often enticed by the cover first to sample what's inside the book. And I wanted to buy books with characters who resembled me.

And sure 'nuf' here is Brotha Gidney writing 'bout some most powerful Sistahs in these stories. (Ebonics totally intentional.) I felt like I wanted to be or had been some of these women. And it IS a magical thing when a male writer hangs up his own gender like a coat and dons another dreaming herself into the Reader's reality. (Pronoun Gender switch is totally intentional.) I believed in these women and the gents who graced these pages. Mighty fine writing if you ask me. The African Descended have long utilized the power of the word.

For those of us who identify as Black, our being ignored or belittled subject matter is in escapable as gravity or the call of mortality. I simply wanted to provide the context of why this short story collection so moved me. At some point, a well-meaning person decided that the trope of the Magical Negro was to be scorned. In the context of the Black character who serves no other purpose than to illuminate a white character that person is absolutely correct, however, magic and Blackness are often inseparable and it is to that truth that the tales in Skin Deep Magic speak to.

*Spoiler Alert*

Her Tangh-i-ness greatly appreciates pithy plot summaries. However, for those who must have a virgin reading experience, read no further, and eyeball elsewhere.

*Spoiler Alert End*

Psychometry, or Gone with the Dust

A mountain of Black memorabilia in a dead woman's home yields some disturbing clues about each piece's origin when touched. As someone who has had real-life experiences with Psychometry, I wouldn't even call this piece fiction. Gidney is simply telling how these things be.

Sapling

Maybe this is the story that inspired the book cover. A young woman learns she is the daughter of a tree spirit and that joining her absent father in the local greenspace is the highpoint of her existence. This story also features a theme that often crops up in Gidney's work: a conflict due the stranglehold Christian belief on the Old ways of knowing/being.

Mauve's Quilt

Two lonely people on either side of a quilt exchange worlds. Eventually, Mauve returns to the known world after a motherless Quentin is drawn into hers. Ahh, the power to be found in stitches.

Lyes

I had to giggle at this story. Graduate Students under pressure. No one expects trademark imagery to take life and start haunting them. Sheri never suspected her strongest ally would be the one person who could have called the country bumpkin. I need one of those Caution: Educated Black Woman T-shirts.

Conjuring Shadowa

This is one of my favorite pieces. Back in the day where men loving men gathered, a guardian stood with them. Even when the boys in blue come to bust up the party, they too find themselves pressed man to man and mouth to mouth in 1926.

Zora's Destiny

Here Gidney pays homage to one of his literary forebears. Zora calls upon an Elder to ease her mother's suffering and by story end learns her own path lies in tale-telling and root-working. This is the second of the Christian Vs. Old World Belief themed stories.

Death and Two Maidens

One dead female house servant meets with a living one and both are pestered by the same top-hatted, skull-faced gent. Only a fellow goddess can bring them any defense. Follow the machinations of the Loa whose territories range far outside not only Africa but also the human heart and head.

Sugardaddy

The highlight of this story is the unflinching look at some of the uglier aspects of Urban Life. The daughter of an abusive addict takes matters into her own hands once she becomes a huntress herself. Who knew toxins and additives could taste so good? One might say the moral of they story is to be kind to those big, fat girls. You never know what they might be capable of.

Inscribed

A deceased, gay, white father and a dead black mother join forces to protect their adult child from an ancient patron of thieves whose modern-day vehicle is a pc game. The question I pondered the longest as I read was did the child even want to be saved?

Coalrose

This is one of my other favorite stories from the collection. Let's deconstruct. What is Negritude? What is a stage performance? What is the performer? What happens when the sensuality of Josephine Baker combines with the rawness and blackness of a Nina Simone? Raise your hand if you thought of Coalrose.


Note: This copy of SkinDeep Magic was a hard copy edition purchased by the reviewer. Her Tangh-i-ness usually reviews on a for-the-love basis. No lucre has been involved.

May is For Mutterings

'Lo Peoples,

My fellow speculative writer, Resa Nelson, has taught me to Google myself every few months and see what comes up attached to my name or my work.

Somewhere in the educational wilds of Wisconsin, my published short story, The Skinned, can be found on a syllabus for an Afro-American Studies class. Right on! I document this with a pang of regret that I can't be privy to what the students and their instructor might have to say about it. I know when I wrote The Skinned I was thinking of a particular experience I wanted to create. However, once a writer publishes anything, that writer lets go of her/his idea about what s/he was saying and it moves into the province of the readers. So, I must let the matter rest, but I did find it amusing for about forty seconds and then promptly devolved into a panic.

I am an African descended person; it is true. There are some less obvious elements of my heritage that I would be challenged on, for instance, say if I were to stake my claim as a member of Clan Boyd based upon my ancestor James Cloud Boyd's presence in my bloodline. No, it is not politically correct to talk about the "one drop rule" but I wonder why it is okay for my work to be categorized as an example of what "Afro-Americans" are thinking. Am I speaking for Afro-Americans? Am I a female, cisgender, pro-LGBTQ, speculative writer who just happens to be African descended? Why should it matter? Why am I even ambivalent about it?

Eeek.

I wish Samuel Clemens were here so he could say something completely off-the-wall and funny to me. Perhaps, I shall sit in front of my computer today and try to tap into his wise-ass spirit. I wish Octavia Butler were still only a phone call away so I could ask her what she thought about this issue.
Perhaps they would both gang up on me and tell me to just forget it.

Enough whining.
Back to my regularly scheduled writing life.

Peace,

Her Tangh-i-ness

What Sensei Had to Say

'Lo Peoples.

Her Tangh-i-ness is back to the subject of writing mentors.


I've been promising that I'd share with you some of what I've been learning from the man I call Sensei. Sometimes, there are questions I don't even realize I want to ask myself. Whenever Steven Barnes brings one up, a part of me bristles.

"But he's established," my inner procrastinator whines, "of course, he can spout whatever he likes." Next, my inner taskmaster kicks in, "Ri-i-i-ight. Have you already forgotten he's where you'd like to be when you grow up?"
My inner procrastinator mumbles something to the effect of, "Now that you mention it...."


Please note the following words in the email below are the intellectual property of Steven Barnes. I have his permission to repost this material from his newsletter. Remember, I get this and other regular free teachings via my inbox. How's that for ease of instruction?

Peace,

Her Tangh-i-ness

-----Original Message-----
From: Steven Barnes
To: You know who
Sent: Thu, Jan 24, 2008 11:46 am

Subject: What if you KNEW you could not fail?


One of the most important questions anyone ever asked me.

What would you aspire to, if you KNEW you could not fail?

That's our question of the day. We limit ourselves in so many ways. Our heads are filled with ideas of what is not possible--for us, or for anyone. And yet the leaders and shapers of the world dare to dream beyond those limits. Sometimes they fail. So what? I remember someone saying to me: "Steve, you dream too big. You're setting yourself up for disappointment." So what? I'm a big boy. I can handle it.


But you know what I can't handle? Feeling that I'm not living up to my potential. That's just me. I imagine two scenarios:

1) At the moment of death, it is revealed to me that my dreams exceeded my capacities.

2) At the moment of death, it is revealed to me that my capacities exceeded my dreams.

I don't know about you, but the second one sucks. I would rather go all out, break my heart again and again and again, pick my self up bloody and bruised and hurl myself at the locked gate again, than slink off and nurse my wounds and join the "you can't win" crowd.

Now, better still is to simply operate in a Zen state of awareness where your normal daily activities, approached with intensity but not strain, naturally takes you through your personal evolution. Just awaken every day, chop wood and carry water, love your spouse, play with your children, play with your toys, tend your garden, rejoice in the life God gave you, and go to bed each night pleasantly exhausted and ready for renewal and a new day. Effort, but no strain. Just hunting and gathering and loving and giving and growing.

And I think that it starts by re-claiming your dreams. So ask yourself: What would you aspire to if you KNEW you could not fail? Choose goals in all three major arenas. Begin to move toward them. Find role models in all three areas, and determine their belief systems, mental syntax, and use of physiology. As you run into barriers, mark them on your mental "map": you are exploring the intersection of internal and external reality. As you experience fear investigate it, and see where your emotions are knotted. And every day, celebrate the joy of sheer existence.

Let' s make 2008 a fabulous year for all of us. There's enough joy to go around. Love, health, and success are not a zero-sum games.

##

The LIFEWRITING YEAR-LONG is the essence of everything I've learned in thirty years of professional writing. Everything that has helped me earn a living, support my family, and find personal fulfillment without selling out my dreams. Quite simply, there is nothing like it, anywhere. Period. What are you waiting for? Friend, you're all you've got. Today, this day, is all there is. Get MOVING!


©2008 Steven Barnes
www.lifewrite.com

Disclosure: Her Tangh-i-ness bought and paid for her own copy of Lifewriting for Writers program. The Lifewrite newsletter she subscribes to is totally free.

Book Review: The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms

August 17, 2009
The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms
By N. K. Jemisin
©2010, Orbit Hachette Book Group



First off, once the Nahadoth Nightlord T-shirt and action figure line becomes available—I must be notified immediately! Can we say sizzling, long-haired, uber-Badboy? Shall we say this is the same kind of insane attraction that an legendary, fanged Transylvanian possesses? Yum.

Don't ask how I have come into possession of The Ten Thousand Kingdoms by N. K. Jemisin. Suffice it to say, I won't betray my fellow pro-Enefadeh. The Itempan Arameri have their scriveners recording every word I say. I'll keep typing as fast as I can.

Yeine Darr Arameri, the protagonist, comes across as a solid everywoman despite her fantastical surroundings. The novel remains in her point of view. Her trouble is most of the novel's cast seeks her death for one reason or another. Yeine balances being a reader surrogate during charged exchanges with the afore-mentioned Nahadoth, being the kind of heroine who transforms from awkward barbarian to a force for justice in a vicious, amoral world, and being comfortably herself.

I fell in love with the book almost from the moment I saw the author photo on the back. People of color have an ancient tradition of fabulous story-telling. I, for one, demand more volumes to choose from and The Ten Thousand Kingdoms has earned a permanent spot on my bookshelf. The brooding cover art also promised a delicious, female-centered darkness. 398 pages later, I wasn't disappointed. Cross-pollination between genres is welcome. Romance readers and fans of Shonen-Ai may also find this book to their liking. I appreciated so much the inclusion of alternative sexualities. Think on this, an incestuous triangle between two gods and their deceased sister-goddess lies at the heart of the conflict. This is the kind of book that derives its intense eroticism, not from gratuituous prose, but from the understated image of its aftermath: a broken bed. Read into that whatever you will.

Peace,

Her Tangh-i-ness

Disclosure: I received a free advance copy of The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms.