In Love & Trouble: Stories of Black Women

In Love & Trouble: Stories of Black Women

Alice Walker

Language: English

Pages: 156

ISBN: 0156028638

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Admirers of The Color Purple will find in these stories more evidence
of Walker’s power to depict black women—women who vary
greatly in background yet are bound together by what they share in
common.Taken as a whole, their stories form an enlightening,
disturbing view of life in the South.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the hot bright lights. Johnny Carson has much to do to keep up with my quick and witty tongue. But that is a mistake. I know even before I wake up. Who ever knew a Johnson with a quick tongue? Who can even imagine me looking a strange white man in the eye? It seems to me I have talked to them always with one foot raised in flight, with my head turned in whichever way is farthest from them. Dee, though. She would always look anyone in the eye. Hesitation was no part of her nature. “How do I

hogs and all their living beasts shall die of starvation and thirst. I pray that their house shall be unroofed and that the rain, the thunder and lightning shall find the innermost recesses of their home and that the foundation shall crumble and the floods tear it asunder. I pray that the sun shall not shed its rays on them in benevolence, but instead it shall beat down on them and burn them and destroy them. I pray that the moon shall not give them peace, but instead shall deride them and decry

was close enough to catch the tea if she could keep up with the mare while she ran. So alternately holding her breath and gasping for air she started after her. Mud from her fall clung to her elbows and streaked her frizzy hair. Slipping and sliding in the mud she raced after the mare, holding out, as if for alms, her plastic shoe. In the house Sarah sat, her shawls and sweaters tight around her, rubbing her knees and muttering under her breath. She heard the thunder, saw the lightning that lit

look like a Frenchwoman. Sometimes he tells me I look Oriental: Korean or Japanese. I console myself with this thought: My family tends to darken and darken as we get older. One day he may wake up in bed with a complete stranger. “He works in the store,” I say. “He also raises a hundred acres of peanuts.” Which is surely success. “That many,” muses Mordecai. It is not pride that makes me tell him what my husband does, is. It is a way I can tell him about myself. page 4 Today Mordecai is

people, and she could not understand where they fit into the group. The principal’s house was the meeting place, and the whites arrived looking backward over their shoulders after nightfall. She knew, because she had watched this house night after anxious night, trying to rouse enough courage to go inside. One hot night, when a drink helped stiffen her backbone, she burst into the living room in the middle of the evening. The women, whom she had grimly “suspected,” sat together in debative

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