Last night I went to the NYC premiere of “Blood Dazzler”, a choreoplay based on Patricia Smith’s award-winning book of poetry. Wow. That was an intense 50 minutes, and I mean “intense” in the best possible way.
Blood Dazzler is a book of mostly persona poems imagining the experiences of New Orleans residents in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. One especially gripping series is short poems remembering the lives of 34 nursing home patients left to drown. But also included are poems in the voice of Katrina herself.
In the play, Katrina the storm/woman really came to life. She is sometimes a drill sergeant, a temptress, a chastened daughter. The genius of Paloma the choreographer is on full display as Katrina herself paints a red X on a house where victims are entombed.
Not only is the source material amazing, the dancers and actors were exceptional. How can a man adopt the body language of a doomed dog named “Luther B” and break your heart like that? Hurricane Besty came onstage looking like Glenda The Good and told Katrina about herself. (“I thought I taught you better than that.”) And the old woman who died in the sun outside of the superdome waiting for buses– well she has her say.
I know that I am making this seem really dark– and yes, it’s dark subject matter– but there was something soul stirring and healing about hearing and seeing these stories told.
I hate that I waited until the last day to see it because I would have liked to have told you about it in time for you to see it.
(here are a few pictures on the Blood Dazzler fb page.)

I bought Terry McMillan’s new novel, Getting To Happy, this afternoon. I remember about ten or fifteen years ago when everyone and their mother was reading either Waiting to Exhale or E. Lynn Harris’ Invisible Life. That seems so long ago. E. Lynn has passed and Terry Mac has been through twists and turns of fortune.
I’ve changed, too.
When my first book came out, the black literati were having all manner of fits about the rise of black commercial literature. It was much like the uproar over so-called “street lit.” Whenever I went on the road, I was asked my opinion on Terry and E. Lynn. Was it literature?
I am embarrassed to tell you how I really puzzled over the question. So many people were whispering in my ear that “If you don’t write like Terry McMillan, the publishers aren’t going to be interested in you.” Their tone made this seem like it was all Terry’s evil plan to take money and success from other black writers. (And should add that I am not sure that it was even true that you had to “write like Terry”, whatever that means.)
Today, I saw Getting to Happy right up front in Barnes & Noble and I grabbed it on impulse. I have been following Terry on twitter and you know what, she’s a writer just like me, or you. She put her heart into this book and she hopes it does well.
When I got to the checkout, I asked the guy working there if Getting to Happy had been doing well. “It’s doing okay,” he said. “Not like Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, but it’s okay.” I said that I really wanted Terry Mac to make a huge comeback and he said, “Who is she again?”
This irritated me so much that I wanted to buy two copies.
I wish Terry McMillan all the luck and love in the world with this book. I think of the writers who felt she was undermining their careers. Now I understand that in many ways, she made our careers possible. With the success of Waiting To Exhale, publishers realised that books by black writers could be read for pleasure, not just for education.
I also wish her luck because she’s thinking about the lives of black women who are living in America right now. I completely support writers who are approaching the historical narrative– my own work in progress is set in the 1930s– but right now, I am especially appreciative of writers who are helping make sense of moment we find ourselves in today, as we all try to figure out how to get to happy.