Tourmaline:(A Collection of Things)- is the debut body of work by author Antwan Crump. Framed by testimonies to the absurdities of society at large, the four stories therein place readers at the penultimate point in the lives of several people forgotten by time.
This description does not do this book justice. It’s rather vague. But let me give you something that will:
She feared retribution enough to keep her nose clean on Sundays. Though that didn’t mean much for her liver.
We are all the sum total of the stories we tell ourselves. We are what we consistently do. All those habits, rituals, and vices. We are more what we fear than what we love.
The stories in Tourmaline teach us one thing: to be alive is a rather cynical business. Double standards and whatnot. The inherent absurdity of this is detailed by the erratic behavior of the characters. Simply put, the act of being alive has no purpose other than the one we give it. And we can give it any meaning we want, even though, looked at by more rational beings, we’re way beyond redemption.
There are no fairy tales here, just people and what people do best.
What do people do best you ask?
Stories, of course. The stories they tell themselves and anyone who’s willing to listen as to why they’re like this or like that. The stories they tell themselves over and over again in order to fall asleep or find a bit of hope.
At this age, I wouldn’t consider myself a runaway. A coward, maybe. I’ve lost enough. I’m not sure what awaits me out there on the country-side. I shudder to think it could be anything worse than what I’m leaving behind.
You can find Tourmaline on Amazon here. Give it a try. At $2.99, it’s well worth.