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Executive Times |
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2008 Book Reviews |
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The
Tempest Tales by Walter Mosley |
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Rating: |
*** |
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(Recommended) |
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Click
on title or picture to buy from amazon.com |
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Philosophical Walter
Mosley presents a humorous and philosophical novel with his latest offering, The
Tempest Tales. Protagonist Tempest Landry meets Saint Peter after being
shot dead by a police officer when he was minding his own business. Tempest
refuses to accept Saint Peter’s direction to hell for what Tempest considers
minor and explainable offenses, and ends up being sent back to Harlem along
with an angel whose job it is to get Tempest to accept his judgment and go to
hell. Instead, Tempest and the angel engage on all sorts of philosophical issues,
and Tempest engages Satan in his efforts to promote his own cause with
heaven. Here’s an excerpt, from the end of the chapter titled, “Charity,”
pp. 20-22: "How
much money they give you?" Tempest asked, cutting me off. I
don't know," I said. "A hundred dollars." "So
they took my money and give it to you in order for you to keep an eye out for
when I slip up and have to do what your boss say and go to hell." "That's
not what happened. You're the one that's being tested. I'm not on
trial." "But
what's that got to do with my money?" "Nothing,"
I said, confused by Tempest's angry claim. "But you're an angel
right?" "Yes
" "And
angel's don't have money up in heaven?" "We
don't need money." "But
we come down here and you get a hundred dollars while I get a hundred taken
away. And now that I think of it you had to have more'n a hundred dollars
'cause the rent, even on the poorest crib, is more'n that." "Go
on," I said. I saw no reason to tell him that I also found a credit card
and a checkbook in my wallet. "All
I'm tryin' to say is how can you judge me when you got it so easy that you
cain't know how I feel?" "I
am not a judge," I said. "I am merely here to talk to you, to
counsel you until you understand that you are not deserving of the kingdom of
heaven." "But
how can you understand me if you can't understand what it feels like to be broke,
homeless, and unknown even to your own mother?" "I have aeons of experience with human
suffering, Mr. Landry. I saw Moses rise up against the pharaohs, Attila the
Hun rage across Europe. I've been in the gas chambers of Treblinka and I've
witnessed African women sink in the cold Atlantic with their babies in their
arms." I had raised my voice to
express the drama of these experiences and found that there were people
around the bar area staring at me. "But," Tempest asked pointedly,
"have you ever
been hungry?" "Excuse me?" "Have you ever bled, hurt,
or went without?" I wanted to speak but there were no words to say. "Have you
ever even lost a friend?" Tempest
asked. I hunched my shoulders. I had
never lost anything. No angel ever had. "So you see when I tell
you that I was hungry or achin'
I don't think that
you could understand.
I went to my mother's house and she answered the door and looked at me with
the same suspicious look that she has for bill collectors. How would you know
how it felt? You couldn't. You never could." "We aren't here to
question my understanding. It is you who has to understand." "And
I think it's
you," Tempest said. "Bartender! Give me
a sour mash
double shot and put it on his tab." "I have to go soon,"
I said when the drinks came. I put a twenty dollar bill down on the table.
"I'm tired." "Angels get tired?" "I've been
working hard.
And as long
as I'm here I am as
mortal as
you." "I
doubt that." "Would you like to have
money for the rent, Mr. Landry?" I realized that he was right, that I
should at least let him get his feet on the ground before trying to convince
him that he is a sinner. "No.
I got a place." "How did you manage that
with no job?" "I
lifted a United Charities Fund contribution box
that they got in Hildebrandt's department store. Then I took the
forty-seven bucks I got from there and paid it to a guy I knew when I was
alive, a guy who supplies street vendors with fancy watch knockoffs to sell
to the rubes that think there's somethin' for nuthin' somewhere in the
world." "You
stole?" "Not
from the way I look at it. That contribution box is for charity, charity is
for the poor, and I was just about as poor as you can get. I figured that the
money, if it got collected, would have to go through about a dozen hands
before it got to somebody like me. That forty-seven twenty-nine I got prob'ly
wouldn't be no more than twenty bucks by then. I just cut out the middleman
and went into business on my own. "But
you stole—" "And
that was wrong. But I give the money back and I used it for what it was meant
for. Now I got a place and I'm startin' a real job at a restaurant
downtown." "You
admit that you were wrong?" "Not
so wrong that I deserve hell." I
wanted to argue but I was too tired. "Let's
get together in the reading room of the public library on Forty-second Street
on Sunday afternoon," I suggested. "We can talk about it more
then." Tempest
and I left together. He walked me
to the subway and shook my hand at the stair. "See
you Sunday, Angel," he said. His
attitude surprised me. There was no more ire or condemnation. He'd expressed
his anger and let it go. I dozed all the way to South Ferry wondering
who was being tested after all. Tempest
Landry is a worthy adversary for Saint Peter, Satan, the angel and anyone
else. The
Tempest Tales will bring laughs and nods of affirmation for most readers
who like Tempest’s style. Steve
Hopkins, September 20, 2008 |
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Go to Executive Times Archives |
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The recommendation rating for
this book appeared in the October 2008 issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/The Tempest Tales.htm For Reprint Permission,
Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC • E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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