Solo by Kwame Alexander with Mary Rand Hess 
Coming to stores August 1, 2017
Available for pre-order here

I feel like the luckiest librarian in Texas. A few months ago, I saw a link on Twitter to sign up to be on the Solo book launch team. I applied and was ecstatic when I found out I'd been accepted! I waited ever so impatiently for my ARC to arrive, and one afternoon while I was at the Amon Carter Museum of American Art, I saw the email from UPS saying my package had arrived (yes, I was checking practically every 15 minutes). I high-tailed it out of the museum without even visiting the gift shop (that says something!) and rushed home to read Solo.

And what joy I found in Solo! I finished it a few weeks ago, but I've been sitting in my feels for a while. It's not something I could immediately review and write about. There were passages in this beautiful novel in verse that I literally had to read several times. For instance, when Blade (the narrator) describes his guitar as the connection to heaven, I stopped reading, gasped out loud, and then wept for Blade and his family. It was such a subtle passage, but I had to sit for a while and just feel it. I've experienced a recent loss, and the person was a guitarist too. So when I finished Solo that night, I took out his guitar been given and sat with it. I can't play it. I've tried to learn for decades. However, I tuned it, plinked out a few minor chords because they're sad (actually E minor is sadder than D minor, so This Is Spinal Tap had it all wrong), and felt like my soul spoke what it couldn't say for nearly 9 months.

This is what good literature does. This is what letting someone read an exciting book does. It creates a connection. Not just that connection to heaven like Blade's guitar, but a connection between the reader and their own emotions because none of us really know how to say exactly how we feel. But oftentimes, an author has found a way to say it, and we can then run with it.

Solo. What are the basics? It's a novel in verse about a high-school senior, Blade, who is the son of a rockstar. His rockstar father is a mess. A literal mess. Blade just wants to live his life out of his father's shadow, and when he thinks he's finally doing that, well, parents. Right? His journey in the book isn't just a physical journey, but a spiritual one. He finds out what truly matters in life even though it's not what he initially wanted. Blade is a bit flawed like any teenager, but I adore him. And I adore his dad too. I was angry with his dad so many times in the book, but I also knew he was devastated by loss as well. We all handle loss differently, and being a musician and a poet add a whole new ingredient to the personality so that, of course, Blade and Rutherford will have some stormy times. And by stormy, I mean cyclonic.

What sets this book apart even more than the excellent writing is the playlist. Songs from Bob Dylan, Guns N' Roses, and my personal favorite from Fela Kuti all add an extra dimension to the reading. If you're a teacher, PLAY THESE SONGS for your students. You can do them before a group read, or during. But the music is like another character in the book. You can't leave it out, or you won't get the full effect. Also, if you're teaching this book or offering it to your students, have a guitar or two in the classroom. My fingers were itching for the guitar and the piano when I finished reading. I had to make music somehow, and I spent a few hours doing so after the last page. Kids will feel the same way.

I apologize for getting this post out so late, but I really did need to sit with this book. I barely scratched the surface here. There's so much more. Africa, love, loss, music, humiliation, admiration, hardship, entitlement, etc. I might have to come back later and write a "Part 2" for this book because it truly is a gem in the literary world.

Thank you so much, Kwame Alexander and Mary Rand Hess, for giving me the opportunity to support your new book.