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HURRICANE SONG

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10 December 2007 HURRICANE SONG by Paul Volponi, Viking, June 2008, ISBN: 978-0-670-06160-0

 

"Cryin' wont help you, prayin' wont do you no good,

Now, cryin' won't help you, prayin' won't do you no good,

When the levee breaks, mama, you got to move.

All last night sat on the levee and moaned,

All last night sat on the levee and moaned,

Thinkin' 'bout my baby and my happy home." -- Led Zeppelin

 

"Pop was right. People were more than uptight. I could hear in their voices how every worry inside them was ready to bust loose. And it didn't make me feel any better to know the dude holding the machine gun could have been pumping gas last week, and wasn't even a real soldier."

 

"Brownie, you're doing a heckuva job." -- G.W.B.

 

Miles, a high school sophomore, has left his mom in Chicago where she has remarried and he has headed for New Orleans where his horn-toting Pop is living over Pharaohs, "one of the clubs where he played regular." But Miles' own arrival is followed shortly thereafter by that of Hurricane Katrina. And when their old car breaks down, in the traffic jam caused by everyone all trying to evacuate the city, Miles, his Pop, and his Uncle Roy -- another jazz musician -- get stuck in the Superdome.

 

"After we got our water and drank it, Pop and me headed for a bathroom. I was shocked at how short the line was. Only the closer we got to the door, the more I understood why.

" 'Goddamn,' Pop said, cupping both hands over his nose and mouth.

"It smelled like your head was buried in the toilet bowl, and we weren't even inside yet. A man ran out holding his breath, with his cheeks looking ready to explode. Then he opened his mouth wide for a gulp of air and said, 'There ain't any running water. You can't flush or nothing. The toilets are all backed up over the top.'

"We got to the door and that smell socked me hard in the gut. I felt vomit shoot up into my throat and choked it back down. I put one foot inside and saw the used crack vials in a yellow pool of piss on the floor. But I couldn't go in any farther. My stomach wasn't strong enough for it, and neither was Pop's.

"The stink followed us everywhere, and you cold smell it creeping up on the whole Superdome. Pop and me passed a side staircase, leading down to the lobby. There was a wet patch at the base of the wall where people had already pissed. So Pop undid his pants quick.

" 'This is how it's gotta be, like we're animals,' he said."

 

Living like animals in the Superdome -- where the failure of the federal government's response translates into a lack of food, water, bathrooms, and law and order -- also means that weapon-wielding gangs are roaming amidst the refugees, intimidating and plundering at will. And it is even worse outside in the city under water where -- as if you may recall from two years ago -- white people breaking into stores were "finding food," black people breaking into stores were "looting," human and animal corpses were floating around, and lots of crazed people with water-logged brains were taking full advantage of their Second Amendment rights.

 

"Five damn days, five long days

And at the end of the fifth he walking in like 'Hey!'

Chilling on his vacation sitting patiently

Them black folks gotta hope, gotta wait and see." -- Legendary K.O.

 

Paul Volponi's HURRICANE SONG is one scary nightmare of a tune. This is one that you won't catch me hummin' to no sixth graders. It will take a reader with a strong stomach to get through this hardcore punch-in-the-gut tale of what happens to a black teenager and his father when -- as we all watched on TV -- there is no apparent hurry to save a few hundred thousand people who get stuck behind the broken levees in New Orleans.

 

Richie Partington, MLIS

Richie's Picks http://richiespicks.com

Moderator, http://groups.yahoo.com/group/middle_school_lit/

BudNotBuddy@aol.com

http://www.myspace.com/richiespicks

 

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