Reviews for Ain%27t burned all the bright %28J%2FBook%29
Kirkus
Copyright © Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
A profound visual testimony to how much changed while we all had to stay inside and how much—painfully, mournfully—stayed the same. Reynolds’ poetry and Griffin’s art perform a captivating dance on pages of mixed-media collage and emotive reflection on the pronounced threats facing a contemporary Black family. In “Breath One,” the opening of the verse narrative, the unnamed boy protagonist struggles with the onslaught of TV news coverage of the systemic violence and death experienced by Black people—coverage that is both overwhelming and insufficient. The television then forms the backdrop of the narrator’s concerns for his bedridden father, who is struggling with an acute respiratory illness while isolated in a bedroom. The art is sometimes spare and monochrome before shifting to a bright and striking palette as Griffin deploys aesthetics that enliven the rich flow and rhythm of Reynolds’ words. The two skillfully go back and forth like rap duos of old, each with a distinct voice that enriches the other. The result is an effective critique of the ways we’ve failed as a society to care for one another. By “Breath Three,” however, a complicated optimism shines through for a family that perseveres through closeness and connection despite what is broadcast from their TV. While grounded in 2020, many of the issues touched on explicitly are very much not over and not even new, making this remarkable work both timely and timeless. Artful, cathartic, and most needed. (conversation between creators) (Illustrated poetry. 12-18) Copyright © Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Horn Book
(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Reynolds's introspective narrative poem, with a young man at home during quarantine as its speaker, shares the stage with Griffin's emotive collagelike illustrations done in Moleskine notebooks and reproduced on the pages to make it look like a real teen's journal. The first-person text is presented in three parts, or "breaths." In "Breath One," the narrator says he's "sitting here wondering why / my mother won't change the channel // And why won't the news change the story / And why the story won't change into something new." Along with concerns about the world outside, he thinks about his father coughing behind closed doors, his sister talking about protests, and his brother lost in video games. When the wonderings get to be too much, the narrator reminds himself to breathe "in through the nose // out through the mouth." By the end of "Breath Three," the narrator realizes that his "oxygen mask" for living through this uncertain time is the people he loves and the moments they share. The poem and images create an authentic-sounding adolescent narrator trying to grapple with the confusion and fear of the double pandemic (COVID-19 and systemic racism) he is facing. The book ends with a conversation between the two Jasons about their collaborative process for creating this work during the pandemic. (c) Copyright 2023. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
