Hello! I’m here to contribute to the blog tour for an exciting and hard-hitting YA contemporary coming to shelves in less than a week by bringing you an excerpt! *And every day we are reminded that discrimination against marginalized communities is still a serious problem, so click here to find a compilation of resources where you can donate your time, money, or whatever you can to support these communities. I still encourage you to research these causes (and others) on your own to educate yourself and find the best way to lend your support.*
As I mentioned, I am so excited to be a part of my first blog tour. The lovely people over at Wednesday Books reached out and asked if I would contribute to the hype around Hurricane Summer, an own voices debut YA contemporary releasing on May 4th, 2021 by Asha Bromfield. In an interview with Teen Vogue, which you can find here, Asha says she spent many summers in Jamaica – while they may have been different every year each summer, in some way, shaped her, and she calls the book her “love letter to the island of Jamaica.” The story encompasses the many complexities of becoming a woman, and isn’t afraid to face the darkness and honesty of that first-hand. Some may believe that the nature of this transition may bring rays of sunshine, but can shy away from acknowledging it may bring more of the wildness of a hurricane.
Tilla has spent her entire life trying to make her father love her. But every six months, he leaves their family and returns to his true home: the island of Jamaica. When Tilla’s mother tells her she’ll be spending the summer on the island, Tilla dreads the idea of seeing him again, but longs to discover what life in Jamaica has always held for him. In an unexpected turn of events, Tilla is forced to face the storm that unravels in her own life as she learns about the dark secrets that lie beyond the veil of paradise―all in the midst of an impending hurricane.
Hurricane Summer is a powerful coming of age story that deals with colorism, classism, young love, the father-daughter dynamic―and what it means to discover your own voice in the center of complete destruction. Content warnings include death, sexual assault & rape (explicit and on-page), physical abuse (on-page), and slut-shaming.
Please enjoy this excerpt from chapter 2 of Hurricane Summer: (and I apologize if the formatting is strange, apparently the site doesn’t let you indent at the beginning of a paragraph, which is a bit annoying).
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We touch down at 1:46 p.m. local time.
Warm air floods the plane as the doors open, and the sweet aroma of fruit wafts in the air. Passengers race to grab their bags as the thick accent comes over the PA once again.
“Ladiez and gentle-mon, welcome to Kingston, Jamaica. It iz a beautiful day here on the island, and we wish you nothing but irie on your travels. It has been our pleasure to have you on board. As always, thank you for flying Air Jamaica.”
I gently shake Mia awake as Patois begins to pour out all around us. I grab our backpacks from the cabin, and we throw them over our shoulders before trudging off the plane.
As we make our way through the busy airport, we are surrounded by a sea of rich, dark skin. I feel courageous as we navigate through the brown and black bodies, and I can’t help but wonder if the feeling of belonging is why Dad loves it so much here.
Once we clear at customs, we continue our trek through the massive airport. All around us, people smile and laugh, and there is a mellowness to their pace. Most of the women wear bright colors and intricate braids in their hair, Afros, or long locks down their backs. An array of sandals and flip-flops highlight all the bright painted toe nails as Mia and I weave through the crowd.
“Stay close!” I yell, grabbing on to her hand. When we find the exit, I grow nervous knowing what awaits us on the other side. I look to Mia. “You have everything?”
She nods.
“Okay,” I whisper to myself. “Let’s do this.”
With our suitcases lugging behind us, we spill out of the doors and into the hot sun. The heat
immediately consumes me, and it is amplified by the chaos and noise that surrounds us. The streets are packed. Loud horns blare, and people yell back and forth in thick, heavy Patois accents. Men argue on the side of the road, their dialect harsh as they negotiate the rates for local shuttle buses. Along the roads, merchants sell colorful beaded jewelry and fruit so ripe that I can taste it in the air. Women wear beautiful head wraps and sell plantains and provisions, bartering back and forth with eager travelers. People spew out of overcrowded taxis, desperate to catch their flights as others hop in, desperate to get home. The sun pierces my skin as the humidity and gas fumes fill my lungs. The action is overwhelming, and I feel like a fish out of water. As we wait by the curb, there is no sight of our father.
“What if he forgot?” Mia asks.
“He wouldn’t,” I reply. “Mom just talked to him.
“What if he got the time mixed up?”
“He’ll be here.”
But the truth is, when it comes to our father, I can never be sure.
I fight with this idea as five minutes turns into ten, and ten into twenty.
The heat blazes and sweat drips down my stomach. I check my watch: forty-two minutes.
I pull my pink hoodie over my head to reveal a white tank top, tying the hoodie around my waist to better manage the heat. Without my phone, I have no way of contacting him to see where he is.
But he said he would be here.
He gave us his word.
Fifty-six minutes later, our father is nowhere to be found. My eyes frantically search the crowd as I
ponder how much his word is truly worth. Time and time again, he has proven that the answer is not much. I turn to Mia, ready to tell her to head back inside. Worry graces her face for the first time since we left. Her carefree attitudes fades as the concern of a nine-year-old takes over. I can’t stand to see her like this, and I’ll do whatever it takes to escape the feeling that is bubbling inside of me.
We’ll take the first plane out.
“Mi, Dad’s not coming. Let’s go back insid–“
“Yow! Tilla!” A deep voice interrupts me mid-sentence. I whip my head around to see my father standing a few feet away with two freshly sliced pineapple drinks in hand.
“Daddy!” Mia screams. She drops her things on the curb and sprints towards him. My heart does somersaults.
One glimpse of my father and I am a child again.
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I recently just finished reading my copy, and I was incredibly impressed by the writing in this book, and the author’s ability to draw me in at the very beginning and make me feel for the characters (primarily Tilla) throughout all of their struggles. Tilla’s resilience against all that came her way was truly powerful. It was tough to read at times, so I definitely recommend looking for content warnings before picking a copy up for yourself (I included some, but other reviewers may be able to catch something I may have missed) because while I think this story is an important one and should be shared, I understand some may not be in the right mindset to read it right now, and that’s perfectly okay. I am so excited to see what everyone thinks about Hurricane Summer when it is out in the world. If you’re interested, consider picking up a copy when it’s released on May 4th, 2021, or pre-order from any of the links below, as it greatly supports the author. *Thank you to the publisher, Wednesday Books, for the opportunity to participate in this blog tour, and for the early copy, all thoughts and opinions are my own.*
Where to find Hurricane Summer:
Wednesday Books
Bookshop
Amazon
Goodreads
Asha Bromfield’s site
Thoughts About Things 