![]() ![]() Then I read Upstate’s first line:īaby, the first thing I need to know from you is do you believe I killed my father? ![]() I relegated this book to another addition to my collection of “come down” novels- the ones I secretly stash in my backpack or in the archives of my Kindle, to read as cerebral relief from more complex works. Perhaps this magical phenomenon was the first sign that I should give the book a sincere look.I purchased Upstate, thinking that it was, quite likely, another novel calling attention to the deleterious plight of African-American youth, filled with drugs, sex, poverty, and death, despite the glaring fact that the description read differently. Upstate, the debut novel by Kalisha Buckhanon, was a completely accidental find a novel that literally fell from the shelf and into my lap. ![]() I wanted a symphony of simplistically complex narrative, complicated love and a universal story line that would linger in my psyche until I became so absorbed that I couldn't tell where I ended and it began. ![]() I found myself searching for that flavor, searching for that music, looking for a specific orchestral novel created by the distant rhythm of bass guitars, and crashing cymbals. It has the ability to feed that lingering, unfulfilled, and longing hunger a hunger unwilling to accept just 'any' flavor. There are a few novels that are lyrical, filled with an indescribable level of musical magic that leaves the reader, and ultimately, the listener, wanting more. ![]()
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