For those of us who find ourselves taking the linear approach to describing a character (he had blond hair, blue eyes, and a great smile…) and especially those of you who are guilty of #16 – Using coffee, cappuccino, and café latte to describe black people’s skin, behold the right way to do it. Bauer speaks volumes without ever once “telling” you anything. I bow down to her!
From STICKS by Joan Bauer
I cross the street by the bus stop and head inside the heavy green door to Vernon’s [pool hall], where Big Earl Reed, the day manager, is picking a soft blues song on his guitar. He nods that bald head of his, lifts his bushy eyebrows, and slaps the side of the old guitar he calls Baby Gal. He got her in New Orleans. Earl and I have been friends for years even though he’s fifty-three and I’m ten. His father died when Earl was two, so we’ve got stuff in common. His great-great-grandfather was a slave in Mississippi.
Big Earl’s eyes are closed. He’s told me how blues is something that grows inside you and has to spill out. If I couldn’t be a nine-ball champion of the world, I think I’d be a bluesman. Blues helps people understand sadness. Big Earl sang a song at my father’s funeral about good men dying young.
“Play it now,” I say, and lean against the counter to listen.
Read my review of the book here.
P.S. The pic is Buddy Guy.
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