The Fire This Time: A New Generation Speaks about Race

Don't read this book if you disagree with Black Lives Matter.

I loved every entry; and I am probably old enough to have witnessed every event chronicled in these pages from seeing Emmitt Till's photo in Jet Magazine in 1954 to today's unending stream of cell phone videos of Black people being murdered .

What I found most refreshing, was that the rage was tempered with resolve to make a differences. That the spirit of triumph replaces the historical song of despair. These young folk give me hope for a future full of possibility.

A thoughtful, moving, and important collection of essays, poems, and other heartfelt reactions to the current state of race relations in the U.S., this should become required reading for all civics and American literature scholars. (I mean that as a compliment.) As a middle-aged white dude myself, I didn't get all the pop-culture references and some of the African-American dialectical flourishes, but I've come away from this book with a new, deeper understanding of what "black lives matter" truly means (in fact, that could've been an alternate title for this book), for James Baldwin, and for the real life experiences of people I think I know but with whom I can never fully identify. Yet the issues and perspectives raised here are universal, expressed with a righteous pride. What's more, it's a pleasure to spend a time in the company of such great minds and talents.

James Baldwin is having a well-deserved moment, and Jesmyn Ward is gutsy to title her book so audaciously as to echo Baldwin's most famous essay.

To her credit, nearly every essay in this book lives up to the spirit of Baldwin with strong, evocative prose and, occasionally, poetry, from some of Ward's generation of fine, fine writers. I thought about naming those essays I liked best but am having a hard time, although Honore Fanzine Jeffers's work about Phillis Wheatley's husband and Edwidge Danticat's closing essay are both memorable, while Wendy Walters's reflection on the discovery of a slave graveyard and her haunting and ambivalent reaction to it may be the finest piece of the collection. The only essay that disappointed was Kevin Young's somewhat flippant take on the Rachel Dolezal situation; given the context of this book with its otherwise exceptional writing, I had hoped for something with greater insight into one of the more bizarre race-related stories of the past few years.

Although I consider myself a pretty well-read person, I had not heard of many of these contributors nor have I read much of their works. I am making my way through Baldwin, who must be the finest essayist on any topic in the second half of the twentieth century. Given what I have seen here, I think Ms. Ward has identified some of the finest writers in our new century.

I can see this book almost immediately becoming required reading on race studies, but it deserves the widest possible readership. And, when you buy it, pick up "The Fire Next Time" as well. Ms. Ward would want you to.

This collection of work took me on an eye-opening experience. Each piece meshes with the overall theme so well and the flow is so natural that you can't help but immerse yourself in the poetry, essays, and stories of each writer. It's refreshing to see the diverse dynamic in which race can be talked about and how each mode of writing packs its own punch be it subtle or right in your face. Many of the pieces served as education and teaching on some of the culture and backstories I did not know of, even amongst our own culture.

Truly, this work is to be studied, to be felt, to be read without bias and with attention to the rhythm inside of each and every piece. What a way to honor Baldwin's legacy, what a way to show gratitude to his life, and what a way to tell the world that the writings and stories of generations both past and present are still detrimental to our salvaging. Still thriving. Still neccessary. Still eternal. Still being written.

This is a great collection of essays that explore the diversity of the Black experience in America. As a white reader, it was incredibly helpful and important to engage with many different voices sharing their experience of what it's like to live as a Black American, as complex and challenging as it can be. No two pieces in this book are alike, and each brings an essential perspective to the conversation. I picked this up for a book club, and I think it's a great choice for discussion of the state of race in America, particularly as brutality against Black people is at the forefront of public discourse. I don't normally read book introductions (lazy, I guess?), but I read this one and am glad I did. Jesmyn Ward's explanation of her work in assembling this collection was a helpful orientation. Ward makes it clear why this book is a necessary addition to the American catalogue.

I purchased tickets to see Jesmyn Ward at the Schomburg Center in Harlem, so in preparation, I read this book. It was only fitting that I read James Baldwin's The Fire Next Time before diving in. I have quite a few of Ward's books, but I haven't yet read them. This book was my introduction to her work. I am officially a fan. I wholeheartedly believe James Baldwin would be proud of this collection of essays. It was exactly what my soul needed when more and more it seems that being black in America is a bad thing. Some authors I'd never read prior to this collection but I cannot wait to scour Amazon and let my one-click finger go crazy. I eagerly look forward to reading more from Ms. Ward. 5 outstanding stars.

A book like this is especially important right now. Amid the Black Lives Matter movement, the widespread national anthem protests and the recent election of a racist president, The Fire This Time digs deep into the legacy of racism in America and what it means to be black in the past, in the present and in the future.

Curated by National Book Award-winning author Jesmyn Ward and dedicated to Trayvon Martin, it’s an anthology divided into three parts: Legacy, Reckoning and Jubilee.

Each writer is tasked with examining what Ward calls “the ugly truths that plague us in this country.” The essays and poems contained within are deeply personal in nature, filled with sadness and hope.

White people in America (myself included, of course) can never truly understand what it’s like to endure unfathomable injustices based on the color of our skin. I believe that we have a responsibility to listen to black voices and become more empathetic and aware. The Fire This Time joins Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me as as an important work of non-fiction that can help us with that. Like Coates’ book, this one wasn’t written for us (white people), but we can all become better people by reading it.

"The world is before you," I want to tell my daughters, "and you need not take it or leave it as it was when you came in." --Edwidge Danticat "Message to My Daughters"

'The Fire This Time' is a timely, necessary collection of essays on the varied dimensions of Blackness in the contemporary U.S. Divided into three sections--legacy (the past), reckoning (the present), and jubilee (the future)--the compilation not only dedicates time to dissecting white rage, the sickness that has shaped the U.S. since its genesis, but also gives glimpses into the interior lives Black folk lead, the brilliance, the joy, and the creativity that blossoms in Black communities in spite of racial oppression. More than a few of the essays are reprints, but this doesn't take away from the distinctness of the overall project. My personal favorites were "'The Dear Pledges of Our Love': A Defense of Philis Wheatley's Husband" by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers, "Da Art of Storytellin' (a Prequel)" by Kiese Laymon, and "Black and Blue" by Garnette Cadogan. Jeffers seeks to show what is lost when our knowledge of Black lives is wholly shaped by white hostility; Laymon writes a beautiful tribute to his grandmother and OutKast and shows some of the non-literary modes through which Black Southerners across generations have shared their voice; Cadogan gives a wonderful description of the aesthetic, social, and political dimensions of Black bodies walking in three very different cities, Kingston, New Orleans, and NYC.

Edwidge Danticat's words in the closing essay have remained with me: "I want to look happily forward. I want to be optimistic. I want to have a dream. I want to live in jubilee. I want my daughters to feel they have the power to at least try to chance things, even in a world that resists change with more strength than they have. I want to tell them they can overcome everything, if they are courageous, resilient, and brave...But the world keeps tripping me up. My certainty keeps flailing."

I had high hopes for this piece. Though eloquently written with a depth that is hard to match and a courage that illuminates the sheer brainpower of the black intellectual community's sharpest minds, something felt like it was missing. I got the black lives matter and police brutality angle. The often told story about the history of anti-blackness and its searing imprint on our physical emotional and mental safety is easy to understand and of course the generational heritage of such trauma makes sense but something felt like it was missing! I would have loved to learn more about the freedom of walking and the connection of man to nature -- a gift so free and so simple -- and how our forfeiture collectively kills us. I wanted to hear more about our resilience through music and dance and the pronounced protest of the body amidst the unapologetic attacks on the spirit. I wanted to feel each writer's pain as they grappled with what to say to the next generation and what our hope could and should be. It felt like a fire this time is the same fire as the one last time but nothing more...

My true score is 3.8