To Be Young, Confused, and Black
My twenties were the best of times and the worst of times.
Graduating into a recession and deferring decisions about what to be when I grew up (still there, to be honest) coupled with the multitude of decisions about who and how to be made it a difficult time. Add navigating relationships, situationships, and entanglements, and there were some rocky times. Reading Luster brought me back to the worst of times, yet I couldn’t put it down.
Our girl Edie is having a rough go of her twenties too.
From the first few pages (and from many other reviews) we know that Edie is messing around with a married older white man who claims to be in an open relationship (and actually is?!). Edie/Leilani’s observations about their differences and standing in the world hooked me through her frank, cutting, and at times hilarious prose. Throughout the novel, Edie explores her relationship with her older, married lover, muddling through her job until she finds herself unemployed and unhoused and suddenly invited into the house of her married lover AND HIS WIFE.
I was enthralled by Leilani’s prose, but when this plot twist dropped (which appears in most reviews and the book cover jacket) my mouth dropped, but then when the couple’s daughter is introduced I almost lost it. Leilani manages to weave observations about black colleague solidarity, artistic fulfillment, and so much more with prose that floats.
The poor decision making, the discontentment with her job, it all resonated too much.
Edie is lonely and confused. Her loneliness and confusion compounded by being a millennial in these weird times. I was Edie in varying measures throughout my twenties and Emira (Such a Fun Age x Kiley Reid), and even had to check to see if I saw myself in Queenie (Queenie x Candice Carty-Williams).Their narratives are important not only because they are well-written books, but because they are expanding the types of Black women who get to see themselves and their experiences on the page.
“I can be a beach read, I can get rid of all these clauses, please I’ll just revise.”
I’m here for Edie and Emira and all the other twentysomething Black girls trying to figure it out. Here’s to more of our stories.
I’m rooting for us.