|Hook, Line, and Sinker, by Annette Walwyn
Michael 189 pp. perfect bound ISBN 1-931575-44-4.$15.95+$1.00 P&H.
Set in the bustling Flatbush section of Brooklyn, New York in the 1990's,
this book reveals the struggles immigrant families are willing to endure
for a share of the American dream. Leaving the warm Caribbean, can they
cope with changing seasons, shifting fortunes, and altered relationships?
To order a copy send a check or money order to Annette Walwyn Michael,
P.O. Box 616, Uniondale, New York, 11553. E-mail your questions or comments
to the Author
Kudos to the author of Sugar Is All. Mrs. Michael's Hook, Line, and Sinker charmingly envelops us into the multi-plot dynamics of her latest piece of literature. The fluent, emotionally-packed prose presents segmented suspense with her inimitable, hypnotic Caribbean realism.
Reminiscent of Gloria Naylor’s The Women of Brewster Place, this book with its commingling of pathos-filled characters helps us internalize the frustrations and joys of life itself. Metaphorically speaking, don't let this one go. It will catch your heart, hook, line and sinker.
Bernadette Waite, retired teacher.Excerpts
About the Author
Sgt. Samuel B. Hart slipped out of bed after the children had left for summer school, hearing his daughter whispering to her younger brother, “Don’t talk so loud, boy. What happen to you? You want to wake up Daddy? You know he tired.”
They know, and he knew that he was not tired, had not been tired in two years, not tired from working, that is, but weary of this–this sitting down to watch “Jerry Springer” and “Montel Williams” all day. Weary of not having his own money to spend. Fed up of wearing the frock in the house. Yes, Sgt. Samuel. B. Hart was tired.
Her heart screamed silently, Is a lie. I working two jobs and we still don’t have no money after we done pay de rent and buy little food. I have to send money to he mother and me family back home. Dey think we rich. Milk and honey? Dis is hell! Somebody fool me , make me leave me big house with the nice veranda, me yard and me flowers to come here. And now we don’t have de money to go back to Guyana. Lord help us!