Aug 3, 2017 Anchorage Press
This is Memory, This is Truth: A Conversation with author Jacqueline Woodson
Jacqueline Woodson,
Photo: Toshi Widoff-Woodson
August remembers, and in her memory there is an undeniable and unequivocal truth — her own. “Another Brooklyn” is the story of August, her brother, her father, and her mother; but, it’s also the story of August and her friends as they grow up together in Brooklyn in the 1970s. “Another Brooklyn”, written by Jaqueline Woodson, was a finalist for the 2016 National Book Award for Fiction, and earlier this summer was nominated for a Lambda Literary Award for Lesbian Fiction.
Woodson is a prolific writer with a breadth of work encompassing various genres, from poetry, to picture books, to novels, and written for an audience just as wide. Earlier this summer I had the opportunity and privilege to have a brief but meaningful conversation with Ms. Woodson about “Another Brooklyn”.
According to Ms. Woodson, the title “Another Brooklyn” is in part a play on James Baldwin’s “Another Country”. Mr. Baldwin wrote “Another Country in the early 1960s and it’s about Greenwich Village in the 1950s. Each work reflects respectively the rich textures of place and introspective protagonists as they navigate place and time. Through August as an adult reflecting on her childhood, “Another Brooklyn” gives a nod to Brooklyn in the 1970s, which is very different from that of the 1990s, and even more so from present day Brooklyn.
On Memory
Memory is powerful. Memory transcends time and sustains Culture as experiences and their meanings are passed on through generations. Personal memory is just as important, and in many ways defines us. Ms. Woodson describes August as an unreliable narrator but also recognizes the power of August’s memory because it is something that she owns, and which no one can question. Ms. Woodson states, “They can question the existence of her mom, religion, there are so many things that can be called into question but when you have memory, it’s what you own, there is no right or wrongness to it. So it’s true.”
“Another Brooklyn” reads with the ease of a familiar melody, the narrative is complex but timed just right, using its leitmotif of “This is memory” to anchor moments and truths as they are invoked by August and revealed to readers. There is grace in Ms. Woodson’s voice that carries the novel through even the most painful moments. The recurrence of memory in the novel allows August to look back at the years in her adolescence that, as the author said elegantly, “Made her, broke her, and then put her back together again, therefore making memory into her memoir.”
On Becoming
August moved to Brooklyn from Tennessee with her father and brother after her mother’s death and found herself in an isolated environment, watching the world go by in the new and unknown urban jungle. She observed as Sylvia, Angela, and Gigi walked around and navigated the world below her window. Eventually, August found a place in their group of friends. In a sense they became her family, her pack, her reflection and together the four came of age, relying on one another through formative experiences. I suggested that in a way the girls’ coming of age as an ensemble represented the coming of age on an entire generation of women of color, and specifically Black women. Ms. Woodson agreed and took it further to say that it was very much an ensemble of girlhood. Especially because in having a female body, coming of age is a visible experience, visible to us and to the world, and there’s “Vulnerability because of that visibility and what the girls are experiencing as the world is watching them and bearing witness to their coming of age.”
In “Another Brooklyn” Woodson explores the complex relationships that women develop with one another and the paradigm shifts that come as forces interrupt the bonds formed during girlhood. She says, “I wanted to explore ways in which friendships can break up. They have the pack but also outside forces, coming at them, sometimes against them, sometimes with them.”
August and the girls are reflections of one another and they also find safety—not that they are safe from predators – but the kind of safety that comes with trust and protecting themselves from judgement from others. Ms. Woodson not only delves into the evolution of self-awareness, but also asks questions about how women get to a place in which they lose that trust in one another. How do girls go from deeply intimate relationships, even homoerotic at times, to not trusting other women at all?
On Windows, Mirrors, and Sliding Doors
“Another Brooklyn” unfolds in many directions at once, but at the center is August’s experience, anchoring the intersecting lives of the other characters, their struggles, and the pain that each one carries. Ms. Woodson makes visible the ties between characters and memory, not just their personal memories but the intergenerational and historical memories as well. In a world of shifting social and political dynamics, everyone wants, needs, to be recognized as a valuable part of its composition. Ms. Woodson who listens to music while writing because it helps lull her into whatever mood she may be trying to create inside a narrative, weaves music as a gateway to memory and identity. According to Ms. Woodson, one thing that she was thinking of in writing “Another Brooklyn” was the power of music on us as young people. Music, like scent, has the power to transport one to a different time and space, so that when August reflects on the Top 40 Hits of the 70s, she recognizes that the music was wrong because it didn’t provide reflections of them. She writes, “How had the four of us, singing along to Rod Stewart and Tavares and the Hues Corporation, not turned our radio just that much to the right or left and found Cecil Taylor, Ornette Coleman, Miles Davis?” In a reference to scholar, Rudine Sims Bishop, Ms. Woodson echoes Ms. Sims Bishop’s thinking on the importance of having mirrors and windows in children’s and young adult literature, but really in all art forms because they allow for awareness and diversity of thought. The idea of sliding doors also means that diversity can go both ways, and thus help put in check disproportionate sense of selves, privilege for some and marginalization for others.
On Her Writing
I asked, how did it happened that her body of work is considered to be largely for young adults, although “Another Brooklyn” is not in this category? Ms. Woodson responded that she thinks her books are for everyone but that the age of the protagonist impacts how the work may be categorized. However, as she found her voice as a young writer she realized the importance of creating a body of work that speaks to young people, similarly to how work influenced and informed her experience when she was young. And, just because a work is categorized for young adults, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t delve deep into poignant and important questions that are often answered through literature, her award-winning book “Brown Girl Dreaming” is a perfect example, as it deals with the racism and segregation of the 60s and 70s. Ms. Woodson said her work is to write something that will hopefully help someone see themselves in the world, make them stronger, and maybe even save their lives. “That visibility is what matters to me, that people can see themselves as part of a larger narrative and feel legitimized in a world. I can’t be afraid and I have very little tolerance for people who are afraid to tell the truth.”
Woodson is a prolific writer with a breadth of work encompassing various genres, from poetry, to picture books, to novels, and written for an audience just as wide. Earlier this summer I had the opportunity and privilege to have a brief but meaningful conversation with Ms. Woodson about “Another Brooklyn”.
According to Ms. Woodson, the title “Another Brooklyn” is in part a play on James Baldwin’s “Another Country”. Mr. Baldwin wrote “Another Country in the early 1960s and it’s about Greenwich Village in the 1950s. Each work reflects respectively the rich textures of place and introspective protagonists as they navigate place and time. Through August as an adult reflecting on her childhood, “Another Brooklyn” gives a nod to Brooklyn in the 1970s, which is very different from that of the 1990s, and even more so from present day Brooklyn.
On Memory
Memory is powerful. Memory transcends time and sustains Culture as experiences and their meanings are passed on through generations. Personal memory is just as important, and in many ways defines us. Ms. Woodson describes August as an unreliable narrator but also recognizes the power of August’s memory because it is something that she owns, and which no one can question. Ms. Woodson states, “They can question the existence of her mom, religion, there are so many things that can be called into question but when you have memory, it’s what you own, there is no right or wrongness to it. So it’s true.”
“Another Brooklyn” reads with the ease of a familiar melody, the narrative is complex but timed just right, using its leitmotif of “This is memory” to anchor moments and truths as they are invoked by August and revealed to readers. There is grace in Ms. Woodson’s voice that carries the novel through even the most painful moments. The recurrence of memory in the novel allows August to look back at the years in her adolescence that, as the author said elegantly, “Made her, broke her, and then put her back together again, therefore making memory into her memoir.”
On Becoming
August moved to Brooklyn from Tennessee with her father and brother after her mother’s death and found herself in an isolated environment, watching the world go by in the new and unknown urban jungle. She observed as Sylvia, Angela, and Gigi walked around and navigated the world below her window. Eventually, August found a place in their group of friends. In a sense they became her family, her pack, her reflection and together the four came of age, relying on one another through formative experiences. I suggested that in a way the girls’ coming of age as an ensemble represented the coming of age on an entire generation of women of color, and specifically Black women. Ms. Woodson agreed and took it further to say that it was very much an ensemble of girlhood. Especially because in having a female body, coming of age is a visible experience, visible to us and to the world, and there’s “Vulnerability because of that visibility and what the girls are experiencing as the world is watching them and bearing witness to their coming of age.”
In “Another Brooklyn” Woodson explores the complex relationships that women develop with one another and the paradigm shifts that come as forces interrupt the bonds formed during girlhood. She says, “I wanted to explore ways in which friendships can break up. They have the pack but also outside forces, coming at them, sometimes against them, sometimes with them.”
August and the girls are reflections of one another and they also find safety—not that they are safe from predators – but the kind of safety that comes with trust and protecting themselves from judgement from others. Ms. Woodson not only delves into the evolution of self-awareness, but also asks questions about how women get to a place in which they lose that trust in one another. How do girls go from deeply intimate relationships, even homoerotic at times, to not trusting other women at all?
On Windows, Mirrors, and Sliding Doors
“Another Brooklyn” unfolds in many directions at once, but at the center is August’s experience, anchoring the intersecting lives of the other characters, their struggles, and the pain that each one carries. Ms. Woodson makes visible the ties between characters and memory, not just their personal memories but the intergenerational and historical memories as well. In a world of shifting social and political dynamics, everyone wants, needs, to be recognized as a valuable part of its composition. Ms. Woodson who listens to music while writing because it helps lull her into whatever mood she may be trying to create inside a narrative, weaves music as a gateway to memory and identity. According to Ms. Woodson, one thing that she was thinking of in writing “Another Brooklyn” was the power of music on us as young people. Music, like scent, has the power to transport one to a different time and space, so that when August reflects on the Top 40 Hits of the 70s, she recognizes that the music was wrong because it didn’t provide reflections of them. She writes, “How had the four of us, singing along to Rod Stewart and Tavares and the Hues Corporation, not turned our radio just that much to the right or left and found Cecil Taylor, Ornette Coleman, Miles Davis?” In a reference to scholar, Rudine Sims Bishop, Ms. Woodson echoes Ms. Sims Bishop’s thinking on the importance of having mirrors and windows in children’s and young adult literature, but really in all art forms because they allow for awareness and diversity of thought. The idea of sliding doors also means that diversity can go both ways, and thus help put in check disproportionate sense of selves, privilege for some and marginalization for others.
On Her Writing
I asked, how did it happened that her body of work is considered to be largely for young adults, although “Another Brooklyn” is not in this category? Ms. Woodson responded that she thinks her books are for everyone but that the age of the protagonist impacts how the work may be categorized. However, as she found her voice as a young writer she realized the importance of creating a body of work that speaks to young people, similarly to how work influenced and informed her experience when she was young. And, just because a work is categorized for young adults, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t delve deep into poignant and important questions that are often answered through literature, her award-winning book “Brown Girl Dreaming” is a perfect example, as it deals with the racism and segregation of the 60s and 70s. Ms. Woodson said her work is to write something that will hopefully help someone see themselves in the world, make them stronger, and maybe even save their lives. “That visibility is what matters to me, that people can see themselves as part of a larger narrative and feel legitimized in a world. I can’t be afraid and I have very little tolerance for people who are afraid to tell the truth.”
