Vanessa Diffenbaugh's novel, The Language Of The Flowers, is a tale about a young orphan named Victoria Jones. Victoria has encountered all forms of abuse in her lifetime being both in and out of her foster-care. In the present Victoria is on her own and living in a public park. If this plot seems tragic to you, it might please you to know that the story is about redemption and overcoming greats odds. Victoria overcomes those odds with her special love for flowers. She's very talented at planting and arranging flowers. The people who meet her notice and are ultimately changed by the young women and her hobby.
A homeless girl talented at...arranging flowers. ...really? That's the synopsis you give me?
Off the bat, you should know by now why I didn't, haven't and wont read this book. First of all, botany is not a talent. Not in my eyes at least, so if you think I'm gonna be cow-towed into being wowed by some snaggle toothed broad ( I assume all homeless people look like June Carter-Cash and have no teeth), putting the tulips with the tulips and the daisies with the daisies, you should rethink who you want on your this feature. I may not be a very smart man, but it takes a little more than color coordination to impress me.
I'll tell you something else: little fun fact about me. I've spent a fair amount of time on the bottom of the social financial ladder. I wouldn't go so far to say i was homeless, but the house had no electricity, no food, and we had to use the community pool to shower (sorry to my neighbors that may read this that didn't know that fact. Little Timmy was swimming in uncle T.C's bath water). So yeah, I went hungry, went dirty, went thirsty, and lonely because surprise surprise, apparently its hard to get women to come over to your house when they cant see their way up the stairs. In any case, you know what i didn't do? I DIDN'T GET THE OPPORTUNITY TO LET PEOPLE SEE MY "TALENT" IN BOTANY! THEREFORE I WAS STUCK! I don't even know if I'd have been good at it. I didn't get time to see because I was busy TRYING TO FIND A JOB! LIKE A LEGITIMATE PERSON IN FINANCIAL TURMOIL SHOULD BE DOING! NOT FUCKIN' AROUND WITH DANDELIONS!
By the way, that shit can fly because she's a woman. Let a homeless man come along and say, "hey, i can arrange your flowers if you need" ...that guys getting the cops called on him. God forbid its a black man. We don't have societal importance as white people have, if we're homeless, who cares. We're just another statistic to you. Now say this "statistic" comes to you talking about flowers and what not.
"Get this gay jiggaboo away from me!!!"
And yes that's two articles with the word jigaboo in it, but honestly, that's how I feel you white people go around thinking of us. I know the editor does. He says it every week.
"Hey, what kind of stupid ass book can i give this lil' jig to talk about. Dance, monkey, dance."
"The language of the flowers", nonsense. How dare you. How dare you, Vanessa Diffenbaugh. Insult Americas' intelligence. I understand I shouldn't downplay or down talk a piece of literature I haven't read, because it's a form of art and expression merely for entertainment, because somewhere around the world someone is entertained, or god forbid inspired by the book ( those people are called nincompoops, imbeciles and idiots, by the way).
But honestly, I'm not buying it. Based on the synopsis I read on amazon. ...how are you really talented at something like arranging flowers? sometimes I feel the same when people say it about athletes, but then I remember it takes hard work and energy to do things athletes do. I cant run back and forth chasing a ball for 60 minutes.Ii breathe heavy when i eat too fast. So yeah, athletes are talents. Even reading is talent. Making a basket case isn't. Just because you can get a degree in it, doesn't make it legit.
But who am I? just a poor black man, trying to make it in a world where a goofy, financially immature woman can make some flowers match and survive, yet I gotta do stupid things to get my life straight and make out of this world, sacrifice and still struggle just to get by. And by get by, i mean hate my life, shove "the man's" poop back up my own butt and sit here writing stupid ass literary reviews about some shit you KNOW i have no interest in reading. But you know why it's ok? Cause its the white man's world, that's right.
Last thing, if this was a black lady doing this, the story would be about how a white person taught her how to arrange flowers. Just saying. So fuck this book. Fuck this homeless girl. Fuck this review. Fuck the author and most importantly, FUCK YOU AYCOCK! DON'T YOU EVER....NOT NEVER! SEND ME SOME BULLSHIT LIKE THIS AGAIN!!!!
...I'll see you next week.
T. C. Beverly
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