Joycelyn Moody: Remembering Toni Morrison’s rare and precious gifts.

I’ve had an unprecedented confidence in my work in African-American literature ever since I heard over NPR, while getting dressed for work, that Toni Morrison had won the 1993 Nobel Prize for Literature. All that Thursday morning, I kept catching my reflection sidelong—in my bedroom mirror, my rearview mirror, the glass door to my office building. I’d turn full face, grin widely, hug myself. I kept thinking, oh lord, can it be?! Somebody who looks like me has walked off with the world’s most distinguished literary prize! It was dazzling, Morrison was dazzling, and somehow it made me dazzling, too. I couldn’t wait to tell my students, couldn’t help greeting everyone with, “Have you heard the Good News?” Morrison’s honor signified my personal salvation.

essaySarah SalcedoAugust 6, 2019essay, toni morrison, joycelyn moody, raven chronicles, the bluest eye

“Blues for John T. Williams,” narrative nonfiction by Steve Griggs

Raven Chronicles Literary Press nominated 6 poems & prose works for the 2019 Pushcart Prize, XLIV Edition. This is one of the nominated pieces:

Blues for John T. Williams

“Hey! Hey! HEY!” the cop shouted. “Put the knife down! Put the knife down! PUT THE KNIFE DOWN!” The old Indian, walking along the sidewalk, lifted his gaze from his carving and looked over his right shoulder toward the young, white lawman nine feet behind him. The officer jerked the trigger of his sidearm five times. The Indian fell to the sidewalk, dead. It was just past 4 p.m. on August 30, 2010, at the corner of Boren and Howell. The sky was blue. The air was still. The Seattle Police Officer’s name was Ian Birk. The Indian’s name was John T. Williams.

Deliberate and unlawful killing of one person by another is homicide. The officer’s shooting was ruled as “unjustified,” but the officer was not charged with homicide. The killing was awful but lawful.

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