Justin: I was going to go to that new club on Webster with Sheila, but my baby's mother be actin' up sayin' she gonna show up and give Sheila a beat down.
Rodney: Yo, man, I don't know how you deal with all that baby mama drama. I'm so glad I ain't got no kids. I don't need no baby mama fuckin' up my flow.
Now, I am a not impressed with myself for knowing this, nor do I feel it bolsters my street cred, because this term is ubiquitous and it's meaning obvious. Well, obvious to everyone except Sheila P. Moses, author of Joseph, and her editor.
Yesterday I found myself thumbing through her newest book at Barnes and Noble, a novel aimed at readers twelve years old and older, and given the front cover design and back cover blurb, twelve year olds with a morbid curiosity about the sordid details of the lives of those poor, black kids from the urban ghetto. After reading the first fifty pages I wanted to barf. Barf and write her an angry letter. Barf, write her an angry letter, and storm the offices of her publisher. Instead, I am writing this post. I also wrote my first ever review on BN.com:
This book had the potential to be important and moving, but it failed. Although there is a definite need for books dealing with this subject matter and written in this voice, that does not excuse the overwhelming flaws of this text. I can't believe this was published. The writing reads like a draft, and I don't mean a final draft. Moses is obviously an outsider to the community she writes about and therefore the voice does not sound authentic. She misuses slang terms and forces in so much exposition that it reads like a messy character sketch. All in all, a total disappointment.