Jeni, please take a second look at this book. Don’t let the description alone make you shy away from the story which is excellent. Take the author up on her offer to send you a complimentary copy or check out a copy from your local library. The book is a well written story about a difficult subject, but the treatment is first rate.

Leaving Atlanta is a beautifully written novel.

Fascinating series. Jeni, I understand your emotions around the atrocities that happen to children, but I fail to follow the logic. Because the subject matter is sensitive to one person, the book isn’t a good choice? Suppose Elie Wiesel’s “Night” or Morrison’s “Beloved” were selected as representative of a specific time or place. Would people protest the choice of either book b/c of the painful, difficult subject matter? This may be a poor analogy, as I am comparing books that relate to the Jewish holocaust and the Af-Am holocaust, which, in general, are such touchy subjects that people are more likely to tiptoe around texts that deal with them. It is curious to me that a book about people living their lives during the Atlanta child murders does not get at least a similar reaction. Are the Atlanta child murders such a non-event that they don’t deserve even this level of “let me think about this, b/c I know people are sensitive about it…?” And isn’t this part of what the book seeks to rectify, the marginalization of this period of trauma that afflicted a very specific population of people? Of course this is a painful topic. Unfortunately, for black children and parents of the ’80’s, it was not one that any of us had the luxury of choosing “not to read.” We wondered if it would come to our state, this terror, much as Virginians beyond metro DC wondered if and when the DC sniper was moving into their territory. It seems to me that if people are not able to deal with painful historical issues and the attending emotional work that is required, they simply, and rightfully, stay away from work that engages them. At the risk of using another bad analogy, there are a lot of television shows (I’m thinking of Law & Order) that deal with a lot of horrible crimes against human beings. Certainly these shows are difficult to watch for the most sensitive among us, and most of us probably limit our watching of such shows to a level we are comfortable with. But I don’t understand how that would translate into, “I’ve never watched this show, but I understand that it features many crimes of a graphic nature. Isn’t there something better to represent this category in the Emmy’s?” I’ve simply never heard this argument. Probably because it doesn’t make sense. There are tons of things that are painful to watch/read that are, nonetheless, works of art par excellence. The beauty of a work of literature is that it will be around for the rest of our lives, and for those that come after us, so that whenever one is able to tackle the sometimes difficult subject matter that serious works of fiction often deal with, whether it’s at 18 or 80, that book will be there. Human sensitivity I can relate to. This particular logic, I can’t. Also, there is a difference between being sensitive and needing to protect oneself from certain stimuli (I know a lot about this, being an HSP myself) and being sensitive to others. Paradoxically, one can be at odds with another’s sensitivity while protecting one’s own. I’ve learned this the hard way, through loved ones pointing out to me that my brand of sensitivity was often more focused on myself and what was hurtful to me than on how my actions or words affected others. This, of course, was painful for me to hear. It felt like, if I’m this sensitive, shouldn’t I get a “pass?” I’m usually empathetic. Doesn’t that count? But the empathetic person too has limits; sometimes I hurt others while trying to protect myself. Keep blogging.

So, is it ok at this point to offer a suggestion about a different book for Georgia? How about Flannery O’Connor’s novel “Wise Blood”? This stark and weird tale of eccentric religious fanaticism says loads about the spiritual values of the South and the conflicts between rural values and urban life in a changing environment. The prose is typical of O’Connor, intensely realistic yet oddly lyrical, completely objective yet highly personal. I’m just saying.