Time to vote on which book we should read from Ghana! Our list to choose from for September's read encompass three works of literature (including one tinged with surrealism), a memoir, poetry, & a detective novel.
Special thanks to Judy Tanguay whose book suggestion was included in this list.
THE VOTING
You can vote from now until Sat., Aug. 25 11PM ET. (That's NYC time. See this converted to your local time below.)
To participate:
1. Review the books.
2. Then, click here to vote.
We'll publish the anonymous results afterwards so you can get the book in advance.
A poetic Interlude before you vote
The verse below is included in one of our Ghanaian selections this month entitled, The Promise of Hope written by Kofi Awoonora, an internationally-renowned poet considered a national treasure in Ghana.
“Sometimes, we read the
lines in the green leaf
run our fingers over the
smooth of the precious wood
from our ancient trees;
Sometimes, even the sunset
puzzles, as we look
for the lines that propel the clouds,
the colour scheme
with the multiple designs
that the first artist put together
There is dancing in the streets again
the laughter of children rings
through the house
On the seaside, the ruins recent
from the latest storms
remind of ancestral wealth
pillaged purloined pawned
by an unthinking grandfather
who lived the life of a lord
and drove coming generations to
despair and ruin
But who says our time is up
that the box maker and the digger
are in conference
or that the preachers have aired their robes
and the choir and the drummers
are in rehearsal?
No; where the worm eats
a grain grows.
the consultant deities
have measured the time
with long winded
arguments of eternity
And death, when he comes
to the door with his own
inimitable calling card
shall find a homestead
resurrected with laughter and dance
and the festival of the meat
of the young lamb and the red porridge
of the new corn
We are the celebrants
whose fields were
overrun by rogues
and other bad men who
interrupted our dance
with obscene songs and bad gestures
Someone said an ailing fish
swam up our lagoon
seeking a place to lay its load
in consonance with the Original Plan
Master, if you can be the oarsman
for our boat
please do it, do it.
I asked you before
once upon a shore
at home, where the
seafront has narrowed
to the brief space of childhood
We welcome the travelers
come home on the new boat
fresh from the upright tree”