Grace’s Merrymakers

It’s funny how quickly Carnival goes by. It’s like this two week alternate reality where everything else ceases to exist, and then, in a blink, back to reality. Within those two weeks there is pageantry, soca, calypso, pan, controversy, and, of course, mas including the epic Carnival Tuesday parade (all 10,000 plus steps of it). Carnival is mas, and mas is  an opportunity to showcase our creativity and that, the opportunity it provides to showcase our creativity, is the purpose of this post.


With Grace – a Caribbean fairytale…and our pattern book.

See, I wrote a children’s picture book called With Grace (released last December), and the world of that story became the pattern that we drew from in crafting our mas – in great part because I wanted to see the tree faerie come to life.

tree faerie

The page I sent my friend before she even had a copy of the book to see if she thought we could do this. She did.

We had more elaborate plans to start but adjusted to our reality and are grateful that with the help of sponsors (shout out to Titi Rent-a-Car, Townhouse Mega Store, and Pink Mongoose), we were able to bring the tree faerie to Carnival City.


Graces Merry Makers

Grace’s Merrymakers.

In production

I’m not going to pretend that I had any hand in the actual building – I am rather lucky that my friends (Helena Jeffery Brown and Augusta Scotland Samuel) who do have experience with costume building were interested in taking on this project.

Material was bought 20170623_180341,

Wire was bent 20170610_17453520170610_135409,

Shapes were drawn 20170604_20525720170604_205301,

Fabric was cut 20170604_21191820170701_134735,

& Details were added 20170802_12502820170802_125822 (these are for the headpieces and standards – because we might not have had a mango tree like we’d hoped but the standards made for a good stand-in).

In their skilled hands (plus seamstress, Ms. Blaize, who sewed the tops they then decorated), it all came together20170802_125004.20170802_125037.

We had to do a product description for the stage and here’s some of what we said – “The fairy’s bodice is the colour of tree bark crisscrossed in green. Her skirt consists of green leaves, with stripes of gold, hanging from her body like leaves from a tree. Look closely, you’ll also see mango blossoms – between the fairy’s wings, pinned into her hair, and along the leaves making up her hand pieces. The fairy’s wings spread wide as she wakes, the orange pink hue of a ripening mango, made of bent wire in the tradition of Antiguan mas. Another feature of local mas, the standards – poles wrapped in leaves, in hues of green and gold – are the trees waving in the breeze. It’s mango season, Carnival season, a season of creativity in full bloom.”

On the Road


After all that, we were only on the road on Carnival Tuesday (shout out to Just Friends, for being so welcoming to us on the road); on Carnival Monday, given our size, we  only crossed the stage. Shout out to our banner holders 20170807_155130…and our back-up banner holders.

With Grace

We were happy to have the opportunity to showcase what mas is about to us – not just fun (though it is always that), but the colour, spirit, and creative energy of our Antiguan and Barbudan people. As a writer, it made me happy to see a character I imagined (a character then illustrated by Cherise Harris and re-imagined by Jeffery) come to life as a part of one of my favourite events, Carnival, mas, Tuesday, the biggest live theatre event (for that’s how I’ve thought of our mas since I first witnessed it as a child). This year I also spied a smurfette and a mermaid (dope); so why not the mango tree faerie, a 100 Wadadli character. Again, thanks to our sponsors (Titi Rent-a-Car, Pink Mongoose, and Townhouse Mega Store) for supporting our vision – remember, support the businesses that support the arts.





ABOUT THE BOOK: Grace, of Grace’s Peak, loves her hill, and her home above the village, above the whole island. All her trees are lush and full of ripe fruits, except for the one at the far end of her orchard.  She hates that tree.  So when the smiling, barefoot, girl from the village asks Grace if she can pick fruits to sell at the market, it is from that sad, bare tree that Grace “generously” allows her to pick. Little does Grace know that the young girl’s kind, generous heart and her sweet special song will make the impossible happen, and change life at Grace’s Peak forever.  Published by Little Bell Caribbean.

Also, for news on Antigua’s Carnival, go here.





Fam is Fam

An avid follower of Awesomely Luvvie on facebook, I came across this post on youtube and it had some interesting insights to the disconnect between Africans and African Americans. It interested me because here in the Caribbean, there is a sense of disconnect from Africa as well and from aspects of the African American experience. Some things are different though; so some Caribbean perspective (specifically my African Caribbean perspective; others will disagree) on some of what Luvvie says here.

“I actually hadn’t heard about slavery until I came to the US…so coming to the US is when I actually started understanding race too because …we were the default, everybody’s black…so the concept of being black wasn’t real to me until I came to the US.” – Luvvie

For me (black and barn yah/born here), growing up in the Caribbean was different. I grew up being taught about slavery and understanding that my ancestors had been enslaved. In fact, some (points to self) would argue that that’s all we learned of our ancestors in the formal education system, and often from the perspective of the enslaver (with the notable exception, in my case, of To Shoot Hard Labour, which showed us our post-slavery history through the eyes of a black working class Antiguan man, Papa Sammy Smith). Some (points to self again) would further argue that because all we think and know of our ancestors is that they were “slaves” (as opposed to “enslaved”, never mind that they were people before that), we reject that past (feeling a shame that’s not our own). This is, by extension, a rejection not just of the people who suck sal’ so that we could still be here, but of our ancestral home, Africa (for all sorts of nebulous reasons, beginning with “they sold us in to slavery” and the colonized mind’s perception of it as a dark and backward place…we’ve evolved quite a bit in our understanding of Africa, though, I want to think). And in as much as we continue this self-abnegating behavior, we continue to reject ourselves, all while humming Redemption Song.

Antigua and Barbuda’s enslaved people were ‘freed’ in 1834 and endured slave-like working conditions for generations  beyond that, enforced by law and low wages. Pre the labour union movement (of the very late 1930s and beyond), this abject reality, it could be argued, was one of the things binding them to a life without a come-up. We remained a colony until 1967 when we moved in to Associated Statehood (effectively internal self-government) and finally Independence from Britain in 1981 (where we’re responsible for our own affairs internally and externally, though with the Queen still on our money and the Queen’s representative, the Governor General, still in place as Head of State; and still at 170 square miles and 100,000 – give or take, subject to environmental, political, and economic storms bigger than us).

So I would say that growing up in the Caribbean, you have a sense of your black history (albeit as told to you by another) and your precarious present (and in case we forgot, the big bad recession is still reminding us). There is an awareness of being a small axe but with the bravado or confidence (take your pick) that the small axe had the capacity to now and again chop down the big tree.

As for being the default, we are a black majority country, that is true; but slavery had leeched so much of our appreciation for our African-ness out of us, the reclaiming is still a work in progress. And between Empire (on which the sun never set) and being in America’s armpit (her cultural, financial, and political reach re-shaping our societies in ways we still struggle to come to terms with), and leaning these last many decades on tourism and foreign investment, we still struggle to centre ourselves in the narrative of our lives, to vision ourself for ourself. Plus, economically, the mass of the people, with notable exceptions, don’t have a whole ton of power (the power to amass and transfer wealth down the generations, or the ease of access to influence that some have even without great wealth). There are still, still issues related to classism, colourism (an off-shoot of racism that privileges lightness for its closeness to whiteness…in Antigua, we call them butter skin – see my book Musical Youth for more on that subject), and cronyism to overcome. But through social vehicles like education even the poorest could envision a way up. So, I would say the concept of being black was very real to me growing up in a Caribbean black, working class community; and fed a steady diet of music, literature, and film from outside, usually the US, with Carnival being a once a year cultural/artistic palate cleanser on which we over-indulged. I would say, at least in my lifetime, that we had things all around us, right there in our backyard, to remind us of who we were and what we could be in spite of the obstacles. That our experience of systemic racism wasn’t as raw and grating an experience as for black Americans who are a minority in a majority white country. I would say, though that we had enough awareness to feel some kinship with their experience – we see overlaps in our experiences (slavery, obviously, but also colonialism to Jim Crow-ism), our movements (such as black power, pan-Africanism, and more recently solidarity with #blacklivesmatter), and our arts (soul, calypso, reggae, dance hall, hip hop are all linked up if you trace the roots).

“They do buy in to the whole African Americans are lazy and African Americans are criminals…not thinking about what 400 years of people telling you that you’re not a real human being can do to the psyche; we come here because our whole lives we’ve been told we’re going to be great and that being enforced to you is something that’s really powerful because even in the face of being talked down to and in the face of being told that you’re nothing, you’re like I know I’m something…They don’t get the exposure, they don’t get to understand that people aren’t just lazy, people aren’t just criminals, it’s the whole system, just a web of oppression that’s causing all of this.” – Luvvie

To be honest, some Caribbean people think this way, too (and tell ourselves that our societies have none of the issues the black American communities have); think African Americans are just not trying hard enough to get over it (and that our islands are literal paradise…which, no). But, to me, that’s part of the rejection of ourselves and failure to inform ourselves about the ways our journeys intersect. After all, the Caribbean was one of several slave markets in the West (using enslaved people for its own sugar cane production and feeding enslaved people in to the southern plantations of the North).

And the slave experience in the Caribbean wasn’t any gentler than in the US (you’ve seen or read Alex Haley’s Roots; well, also read slave narratives like The History of Mary Prince, A West Indian Slave, Related by Herself, Matthew Parker’s historical Sugar Barrons, or Marlon James’ fictional Book of Night Women for some perspective). I suppose we think we’re able to tell ourselves that we’ve evolved from that by pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps and if we can do it…but it’s an argument that rejects the context. That many African Americans have done just that, in spite of systemic racism; and that we (again, my generation, at least) grew up with black political leaders running things, black teachers in our classrooms, black police men, black lawyers, black doctors etc. That it was normal to see black faces in all places (well, except, when I was coming of age, the upper echelons of hotel management and ownership, and generally the investor class) made all of these things real possibilities in our lives, even if, depending on class and economic barriers, we might have to get more of a running start. We saw our parents through hard work and hustle, throwing box and cutting and contriving, make a way out of no way, and families move in a generation from didn’t get the opportunity to go on to secondary school to graduated university, from my mom was a market vendor to I’m a political mover and shaker, and while we’re still playing catch up on a lot of things, we have a sense that we own our destiny in a way that it’s harder to if you can feel the knee of your oppressor in your back. And yet look what our people here and there have done even with the false start that slavery subjected us to here and there. I’m just saying, instead of judging each other, it would serve our interest and our sense of being part of the same family, which we are, to try to understand each other.

“We (Africans) get marginalized when we come here (to America) because of our accents.” – Luvvie

This, the fact that the assumptions and biases and prejudices also flow in the other direction is part of the problem.

“It’s a two-way street and we need more open forums where we bring both groups together and have these really tough conversations.” – Luvvie


Why With Grace

The Anansi tales which travelled with the Ashanti to the Caribbean remind us that it’s not always about who’s biggest but can be about who’s wiliest. I remember a grandmother chastising me for reading Anansi to kids at the reading club with which I volunteered. He was a bad influence, she said. I’d never thought of it that way. Sure, Anansi, the spider, was a trickster who danced around hard work, played his friends, and always looked out for number one, but what had registered with me since childhood was how creative his thinking was, how he used his wits to best those stronger than him. Besides, his comeuppance every now and again were reminders that while craftiness could be rewarded, badness nuh play. Plus, beyond his indisputable entertainment appeal, I could see why my people with the system – from slavery to colonialism to post colonialism – on their necks responded to the idea that small axe could cut down big tree (or little Anansi could best Snake and Tiger).untitled4

Anansi had become my go-to for presentations to classrooms too young for my other books. Children were always entertained by him and there were always new variations of the old stories. I most recently used him in a workshop with teachers as an example of a way to engage young readers.

Fairytales, among which Anansi can be counted, are how young readers first engage with the world of Imagination. And they come from all over. Disney’s Bambi is based on a German tale by Felix Salten. Other famous German fairytales – Hansel and Gretel, Rapunzel, Rumpelstiltskin, Snow White – come to us via the Brothers Grimm. Alice went on her Adventures in Wonderland by way of Lewis Carroll and England; Goldilocks and the Three Bears by way of Robert Southy. Frenchman Charles Perrault brought us Little Red Riding Hood and Sleeping beauty. From Aesop (Greek), we have the Goose that laid the Golden Eggs and the Boy who Cried Wolf. I remember using Perrault’s Cinderella when conducting a story telling workshop at a local high school and, as I expected, it provided a short hand because it was one of those tales most if not all knew. Fairytales travel – The Little Mermaid swam in to our imaginations by way of Danish writer Hans Christian Anderson who also brought us The Princess and the Pea.

There are a lot of Princesses and Princess-like characters in fairytales aren’t there; fair maidens often in need of saving.

When I wrote my fairytale I was drawn to the universal appeal of this genre – the way fairytales travel not only from one culture to the next but also through time. They are, in their way, timeless. Your grandmother’s grandmother’s grandmother read or told these tales to her grandchild.

Coming from the Caribbean, Anansi, who remains part of our oral folk tradition, aside, so many of these tales of childhood and magic and the imagination are from other places.


I’ve long felt that this can be harmful to our self of our own worth in the world. That’s one of the reasons that when I launched Wadadli Pen, a writing programme to encourage would-be-writers in Antigua, I insisted that submissions to our annual Challenge have a Caribbean aesthetic. I wanted to encourage our young writers to centre themselves in their stories, realize that they too are worthy of great literary adventures, know that they matter.

When I wrote With Grace, my very own Caribbean fairytale, I wanted to acknowledge the tropes of the genre but buck some of them at the same time. From the main character, a dark-skinned black girl, joyful in her #blackgirlmagic and natural single plaits, to the plot in which she is effectively her own rescuer by use of her own wits and grace.

A teacher commented about With Grace on social media, “we neglect to realize that validation and realization are steeped in the subliminal of what we allow our children to read and watch…and I continue to celebrate books and images that look like me and my own.”

Why With Grace? Because for girls and boys of colour everywhere, not just in the Caribbean, the opportunity to see self is still too rare.

With Grace Launches This Week In Antigua

The headline says it all. With Grace launches (in Antigua at least, for now; but soon to be available in the wider Caribbean and internationally) on Wednesday 21st December 2016, 6 p.m., at the Best of Books on St. Mary’s Street, Antigua.

It took some doing to get them here before Christmas, but Little Bell Caribbean, publisher of With Grace, pushed to do just that.

The Best of Books bookstore has hosted each of my launches through the years beginning with The Boy from Willow Bend (back when the launch amounted to a signing table set up at the book shop entrance at its then location in the Benjies/British American mall) atboyfromwillowbendlaunchto the Dancing Nude launch (moved indoors for this one) a year later dancingnudebooksigning5, to eight years later and the launch of Oh Gad! my attempt to mix things up with a midnight launch at the Best of Books Friars Hill Road branchlaunch-photo-eustace-samuel; my next book – the picture book Fish Outta Water didn’t get a launch (but more news to come on that soon; listen out); reading-me-2then there was Musical Youth launched on a rainy  evening at the St. Mary’s Street location where I’ll return this Wednesday 21st December for the launch of my sixth book, second children’s picture book, and first fairytale.

To say this journey has been surreal would be an understatement. To say each of these launch activities has been a blur would be #facts With Willow Bend, I didn’t know what to expect, didn’t know if anyone would come, and pretty much stood there and smiled and tried to be charming when people (mostly friends) came through. With Dancing, I was nervous because I had to read and because there were, amidst a pretty strong showing from my family and friends, people who were there just because they were readers looking for a good book (yikes). With Oh Gad! I was anxious because best laid plans and all that but there was wine and cake and, though Antiguans proved they’re not in to this midnight launch business, some who turned out like the late Marcus Christopher (a calypso writer whose music I would have grown up listening to) were a nice surprise and guess which picture made the paper observer-launch-coverage– nicer still, the personal call he made when he’d finished reading to tell me what he thought of the book. I remember feeling heady at the Musical Youth launch – there was so much going on then and I was so excited and all the usual nerves but also somewhat disconnected.

For a writer, a launch is and is and is not purely a celebration of an accomplishment; it’s also about sales and promotion – performing, and the success is not just the book you hold in your hand but did the media come out, will you get some good buzz from the event, how will the book perform. Six books in, still not on any one’s bestseller list but heartfully thankful for reader response to and support of my books to date, I want to try just enjoying this one.

Tall order – right now I’m in promotion mode, trying to make sure people know about the book and the launch (purpose of this post)- but on that night, I’m aiming to be so present, so joyful, so in my skin that none of it feels like performance, that all of it feels real.

If I never get a chance to write another book, I want to enjoy not just the launch of With Grace but that I’ve been fortunate to be a writer, to write these books; and the launch of a book about Grace seems a good time to bask in the gratitude I feel to live doing what I do, even on the roughest days of this journeying in the Writing Life. Give thanks for all the readers, for every publisher that made an investment in me, for the friendships and familial bonds that have strengthened and challenged me, for the ones who are always there for me, for all of the booksellers who have stocked my books and Best of Books for hosting me through six launches, for the ones who encourage and appreciate the effort, for God who blessed me with this talent, for every teacher who has helped me build the skill needed to become better and better and more confident in honing that talent. Whatever happens, I can’t say I didn’t get a chance to, didn’t claim my dream to be a writer. Am I tired right now? Yes…but I’m a tired writer. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted to be (definitely with a different adjective in front of writer).

With Grace is a fairytale and something about writing one of those has brought out my inner child, hopeful that it will fire the imagination of young readers as the fairytales I was exposed to as a child fired my imagination.

So, Wednesday, at 6…look forward to adding new pictures to the book launch collection, but, more than that, hope to relax and feel every moment joyfully in my bones. Hope you will come out if you can.

Media and bloggers, you can make use of the links below from the promotional package I’ve put together about the book, my other books, and me. I appreciate any and all courtesies, you have extended in the past and will again in future as I try to ripple the water; I don’t expect any of it as a right nor do I take any of it for granted.





The Caribbean Writer

Volume 30 of the Caribbean Writer was set to drop this month (December 8th, I believe). I haven’t seen any post-launch reports, including the cover, as yet; but I can tell you that the anniversary edition is entitled Journeys and Pathways and I look forward to seeing and reading it.

It seemed timely to share what I wrote when asked to submit, for inclusion in the issue, what the journal has meant to me as a Caribbean writer. I don’t know how much of this they actually used but here’s what I wrote:

My first piece published in The Caribbean Writer was Rhythms in 2004 (also Ah Write! that same year) and, as I reflected in my book Dancing Nude in the Moonlight 10th Anniversary Edition and Other Writings, where you can find, in addition to the original novella, many of my journalled pieces, there was a sense of “finally, finally” about it. I had submitted my first piece maybe six years before and finally cracking the Caribbean Writer felt like one of those moments, not quite but almost like getting my first publishing deal (for my first book The Boy from Willow Bend) which had happened shortly before The Caribbean Writer let me in. Point is, the Caribbean Writer, the only international peer-reviewed Caribbean-focused literary journal that I was aware of then, has been, at least for me, one of those critical bars to get over as a writer in the Caribbean.  The standard over the years has been high to daunting, and I know people who’ve submitted, been rejected, and given up –not given up writing, necessarily, I hope not, but on submitting certainly. There are so few avenues for writers in the Caribbean; and the Caribbean Writer remains one of those credits that any Caribbean writer would be fortunate to have, an early credit for some who’ve gone on to do great things and at the same time a space where the greats have shared via interviews and fresh writing. When I read it, I wish more of the stories were being shared via popular media platforms and even in our classrooms because it’s often filled with pieces that are at once topical and inventive, a reminder that Caribbean lit is a living vibrant entity.  The standards, frustrating as it has been, grumble though we have, have largely ensured the quality of much of the work found in its pages. The Caribbean Writer isn’t perfect but I think it’s fair to say that it’s a good indicator of some of the best of what’s happening in the Caribbean canon now and for the last 30 years (and what can you say about that type of longevity in these abbreviated times). The new voices and the established ones, new writing to critical reviews of books, can be found on the pages of the Caribbean Writer. As a reader, I usually find much to enjoy and be inspired by between its covers. As a writer, and especially a Caribbean writer, it’s a solid writing credit to have; the one you want to have, really. And it’s a privilege to be selected every time I’ve been selected (2010, 2012, 2013, 2015 including my selection for the David Hough Prize in 2011 and the flash fiction prize win in 2015) and a challenge every time I’ve been rejected. Because it may be a high bar to clear but, I kept submitting, I think because I’m all-in on this writing thing and if you’re serious about seeing if you have what it takes you’ll take a running jump at the high bars until you get enough speed and wind behind you to get over.

The call has already gone out for submissions to volume 31 of the Caribbean Writer. Will you take a running jump at it?

Bazodee *with spoilers*be aware*


LAST WARNING: SERIOUSLY! Read only after watching the movie for yourself…then come back here and fight me.

Okay. Here we go.

My impression of Bazodee wasn’t as damning as this Variety review. In fact, I found it rather charming; good for what it was – a silly, improbable, festive romp that resolved its dramas, such as they were, and entertained its audience before restlessness set in.


The silliness was there in the tone and set-ups. E.g. Girl goes to the airport to pick up her fiancée and his family and promptly gets turned around by a guy and his ukelele, and that bit of infatuation at first sight changes both their lives – makes him rediscover his love for music and positions him for a meteoric comeback; makes her forget her betrothed. E.g. Girl and guy plot a hook up between her cousin and one of her in-laws-to-be that involves a paddle boat and a stranded island, a coconut, and song.  It is there in the comedic lines and light delivery (shout out to Soul Boy for one of the best and driest deliveries of one of these laugh lines) even when the stakes are high – when the grandmother of the character played by soca star Machel Montano takes a long walk across the construction site where he’s landed after giving up on music (and love), thrusts his guitar at him, and gives him the look, that was comedy gold, and not a word was spoken.


All the silliness described above also falls in line with the improbable but perhaps the biggest one is the suspension of disbelief required to make me believe that a businessman who had the savvy to set up a project as ambitious as the one he set up, also had the naiveté to sign it away just so. Don’t buy it. That the jealous son tunnel-visioned on maliciousness and winning would, after a little hard talk and bacchanal, change his whole ethos to the point of giving back the thing he took. Just so. Don’t buy that either. That the two families would nice-back easy-easy so…and what about the hurt feelings of the jilted fiancé? In fact, where was the jilted fiancé while everybody dancing and getting down happy happy in the end? Don’t buy it. But it made for a nice, pat resolution which the tone of the film promised from the beginning.


You remember those old Hollywood technicolor films where people would just burst in to song like it normal normal? Well, this have plenty of that, and in that regard, it has the soul of an old Hollywood musical where everything can be fixed with a bit of song

and a lot of Carnival.


The main drama is the star-crossed Romeo and Juliet business between the main characters – he’s an entertainer, she’s her dad’s business muse; he’s impetuous, she’s sensible except when she’s impetuous like when she sneaks off to be with him and kisses him in full view of any and any cell phone; he’s black, she’s Indian – as she reminds him when she wants to shoo him from pestering her so she can go back to being a sensible girl. The secondary drama is the business deal she and her dad are trying to seal up with her fiancé’s family – some class, big island (England) small island (Trinidad), and possibly some intra-ethnic prejudices come in to play. The tertiary drama is his quest to find his passion for music again. The tension in drama is heightened by the stakes and here the stakes never feel particularly high. Even when she and her dad fall from their high perch for instance, where they land seems relatively comfortable. The most high tension moment might’ve been when she was out with her friend-staffer (and there is some class-privilege issues that could be addressed there but I won’t bother get in to that) and the fiancé and his brother go looking for them in the midst of the J’ouvert where she was hooked up with the singer…except in a classic rom-com bait and switch by the time the door swing open on the hooked up lovers, the friend-staffer is the one in the singer’s lap. Because that happens.

So, since I brought the Bard and his famed lovers in to this, if you think of Bazodee (the state of forgetting onesself) as one of Shakespeare’s sillier comedies (obviously not Romeo and Juliet which was neither a comedy nor a romance) and take it for what it’s worth, you’ll leave the theatre in light spirits. And, considering all of the silly American and British romantic comedies whose improbabilities and low stakes dramas we’ve enjoyed (hey remember that time Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan met for the first time and fell promptly in love atop the Empire State Building? How about the time Bridget Jones didn’t get frostbite? ), I don’t think the particular Trinidad-ness of this story need be a negative. Enjoy it for what it is: a silly, festive romp with quickly resolved dramas and nice music.

Article by Joanne C. Hillhouse, who has nothing against rom-coms or silliness. Feel free to reblog with link and fresh press (please do) but Do  not re-publish without permission and credit. Click the links for my books and/or my services.

Jamaica Observer Bookends Children of the Spider, Musical Youth

Bookends, the Jamaica Observer literary supplement has always been kind to me. You can see previous coverage of my writing and books on my media page. Give thanks. I am delighted to be featured, this time around for Child Month, with an excerpt from Musical Youth, published alongside the newest winning book to emerge from the Burt Award contest to unearth new teen/young adult literature (this book, incidentally, won the Burt prize the year I served as a judge; my own book Musical Youth was runner-up for the prize the previous year).


“In the land of the Spider gods, a
girl counted the stars and waited.
The hillside where she crouched
was exposed to the eyes of the
enemy, with just a few mossy and
pungent boulders for cover, but
their heads bent in prayer around
the fountain below, the men never
looked up from under their hoods.
They lit flambeaus and put them
out again in an order only they
understood. Seven of the Brothers
wore black robes. The eighth
wore red and carried a spear.
In the land of her mother’s
grave and her father’s memory, a
girl waited.”

Hmmm, a girl is giving me Aria Stark vibes. In all seriousness though, that isn’t that far off; Children of the Spider is a fantasy with a young girl’s heroic and complicated journey and loss at its centre; she makes alliances along the way and encounters the most unlikely mythical creatures, danger at her heels the entire time. The only difference between this and other books in the genre, typically, is that this one is set in Guyana, drawing on the location to add something fresh to this popular sub-category. If the teen/young adult in your life likes adventure and fantasy, they’ll like this, I believe.

‘At the last lick of her pick, she opened her watery eyes
to find his face inches from hers. She hadn’t heard or
felt him come closer. Thinking he might kiss her then,
she held her breath; but he merely smiled.
“How you feel?”
She searched her heart.
“Happy,” she said.
Her fingers were still tingling, and the electricity of it
travelled up the rest of her body until she felt like she
had to move, or scratch, or dance or something. She
leaned forward and kissed him. And just like that the
spell was broken.’

Shaka and Zahara are wrapped up in the world of music and each other, their friendships and the summer musical production that will change both their lives. I wanted to create something that spoke to that time in your life when you’re just beginning to figure things out about your self and your friendships are the all-consuming relationships of your life. We’ve all lived that time and I drew on my own memories (and my teenage niece’s frank feedback) in connecting with these millennial 2.0 kids. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I really enjoyed hanging out with these kids and I know I (and, fingers crossed, your teen) haven’t seen the last of them.

Here’s the link to the Jamaica Observer Bookends May 2016 spotlighting both Children of the Spider and Musical Youth. Thanks to Ms. Sharon Leach for inviting me to submit. Hope you enjoy but not only that. Hope you support the authors, share the link, buy the books, encourage others to buy the book, suggest your libraries and schools add them to their stacks or reading lists, do what you can to make the teen/young adult readers these books are targeting reach their target. Support the literary arts.