Category Archives: Library

My time at the NYPL

I have Books for You!

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There is no honor like an older brother going through his extensive library to hand you two books he doesn’t have time to read!

In July Tyriek saw me on my way to get lunch and in the hot sun asked me what I was reading. It was a conversation that was both annoying and frustrating because he caught me in the heat – reading the best part of the plot.

I am reading James, by Percival Everett. I told him while quickening my pace. His long legs caught up with my gait.

What’s it’s about?

Ugh! Really?

Yeah, I want to know. He kept his cool to my deep annoyance.

It’s a spin on Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn. We get to meet Jim, the Black character, and know of his story.

Tyriek crossed the street with me to the restaurant and for sheer big brother bothersome held the door for me while asking me more questions about the book. To which I closed the book and said,

Please, it’s extremely hot and I’m starving. Plus I want to finish.

Okay, but next time I see you I’mma give you something more to read.

To this I rolled my eyes and gave him an incredulous smile. Even though we talk about books all the time, I never saw him with a book in his hand! As a matter of fact, he doesn’t even walk with a phone!

But he did stick to his promise.

I was on my way to the library and with perfect timing, he met me in the nearby park with not just any books but Bartolome De Las Casa’s The Devastation of the Indies (a translated copy) and Leonard W. Ingraham’s Slavery in the United States.

I didn’t even try to hide the fact that he made a big impression.

Where did you find these? I asked smiling.

You don’t even want to know. Seeing that I was impressed, he started talking with his hands.

You want them back? I wanted to see how connected he was to his books…

Yeah, I want you to also tell me what you thought about them.

Gosh, he wants them back! I thought. So much for giving me books! Instead of showing him that he may not indeed get them back, I questioned him about the assignment part-

So, are you also giving me homework?! I looked at him in disbelief. He never told me about the homework part. He just said he was giving me books! (Books that now he wanted back!)

I need to know about them but I don’t have time to read them.

What are you looking for? What about them do you want to know?

I can’t tell you until you read them.

Really?! Tell me exactly what you are looking for-

I want to know if they are lying about enslavement. Here he went on a rant about the transatlantic slave trade and the movement of the people before the trade even began.

Instead of asking him the big question- What in the world are you doing that you can’t read?! I replied, Well, I’m only reading them because they are closely related to my studies.

I have more.

This time I smiled at him.

Tell me, how big is your library? And I do want to know where you got these.

This time I had all the time in the world to listen to him. He rambled on about the state of Black folks in America reminding me of my brother Jahlil over in Westchester. And I find my books all over the city, I don’t buy any of my books. I find all of them.

I shook my head in full agreement because I also find books. Especially books associated with Black history. I once found a rare Elise Greenfield book that’s worth hundreds of dollars in a pile of unwanted books.

Tyriek I’ll read and pass it back to you with notes. Can you look in your library and pull out more books? I’m looking for writings about Black children and schooling in New York City.

I got you!

The 2024 National Book Awards

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Smiling with author Angela Shante
Author Percival Everett

It was a nice treat for me to get off work and go to NYU Skirball for the 2024 National Book Awards Finalist Reading in November. It is always a good feeling to be in the midst of people who write because they read and read because they write.

I must admit however that I missed The New School’s atmosphere and location. NYU was a long trip from the boogie down! It didn’t help that my phone battery was low and I didn’t know exactly how to get to the Skirball building. My gps let me through a walk in the park that I hated but it turned out to be the best route.

As soon as I got there, I walked to the book selling table and was surprised that I knew no one on the finalist list. I normally would know at least one author but all of the author’s were new to me. The topics were new too which almost peeved me.

The book sellers from McNally Jackson Book Store were not sure which authors were there so I flipped through all the books. I brought The Unboxing of a Black Girl by Angela Shante, Buffalo Dreamer by Violet Duncan, and James by Percival Everett.

After listening to the authors read their works, I was happy with my selection. Angela Shante is a writer from the Bronx. The Unboxing of a Black Girl had a lot of topics I could connect with. The selection she read about schools and education was perfect. She even invited herself to my school while signing my book! Violet Duncan’s work I brought to share with my fifth graders. I was looking for work by a Native American writer and once I came across the story, felt it was perfect. Percival Everett’s work I thought reminded me of writing by James McBride and Sadeqa Johnson. His work used old black dialect which is something I enjoy.

During the intermission, I ran into professor and children book author, Dr. Michael Datcher. I met him in Philly last year and was happy to see him again. He spoke life over our writing and craft.

smiling with Percival Everett
Smiling with Dr. Michael Datcher

During the reading, I made a mental note to check out some books from the library just because the author read their books so well! Ghostroots by ‘Pemi Aguda, Whiskey Tender by Deborah Jackson Taffa, and Mother by m.s. RedCherries. The best reading (according to me) though came from the Translated Literature selection- The Villain’s Dance by Fiston Mwanza Mujila. The author was so animated I wish I’d taken my French classes more seriously in college. Even the translator, Roland Glasser, didn’t sound as convincing as the Frenchman.

Chopped Cheese goes a Long Way

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One night during tax season, I had a victorious night serving others. For me, it wasn’t strange. It was humane.

When I got home, I told my sister about my night.

A couple of days later, I told my mentor.

I testified about it in church.

Finally my experience was published in the New York Times:

Chopped Cheese

Dear Diary:

I was on my way to a Jackson Hewitt tax office in the Bronx on a Monday night. I stopped at a Bengali place for dinner. I left with two samosas, plus dinner and lunch for the next day. It was 9 p.m. when I got to the subway station. I looked around and noticed a boy on the platform. He was playing a video game. I opened the container with the samosas, but before I could dip one in sauce, the boy interrupted me.

Excuse me, Miss, he said. Do you have a dollar for water? I’m thirsty.

I put my food away.

Let’s go, I said.

We went downstairs.

Are you hungry? I asked him.

Yes, he said.

We walked to a Jamaican restaurant on the corner known for its jerk chicken, bread fruit and steamed fish.

Please, Miss, the boy asked, can we go to a deli?

We found one nearby. He ordered a chopped cheese and an Arizona iced tea. I paid, and we ran back up to the station. The train pulled in immediately. We got on, and the boy took out the sandwich. I listened as he talked about wanting to be a doctor and ate his chopped cheese.

Stay focused, I began to say. Before I could say more, he hugged me and said good night.

I got off at the next stop and walked into Jackson Hewitt.

You are my last customer, the tax preparer said.

Oh, great, I said. I stopped by a Bengali restaurant to kill time and… 

Oh really, he said. What did you get?

When my taxes were done, I left without my curry. I saved my dinner to have for lunch the next day.

— Lystria Hurley

I received many emails from readers who read my story.

One reader wrote:

Hello,

If today’s story is yours, it was beautiful.  What a sweet and selfless thing to do!  You are such a good and kind person.  I’m sure you are a phenomenal teacher.  The world needs more people like you.

I searched on the name used in the Metropolitan Diary and found your blog.  Again, I was overwhelmed by the beauty of your photography and your subject matter.  So brilliant!

Thank you for being you!  

Stephanie

Another Reader Wrote:

Dear Ms. Hurley, 
     I read your piece in the Metropolitan Diary this morning and was so warmed by your thoughtful story and brilliant description of your NYC moment. 
     Thank you so much for sharing with the world.   

Sincerely and gratefully, Jolie 
New London, New Hampshire 

I heard my pastor once say, when God gives you joy, you take it. So I took those notes and printed them out. Pasting them in my journal.

Today I received a package in the mail. Ms. Jolie of New London, New Hampshire, inquired about my book list for my class and brought three books from my wish list. She sent the books with a note that reads:

Hi!

Dear Ms. Hurley,

Here are the books. I hope you and your students enjoy them.

Best Wishes,

Jolie

What I didn’t know was that Jolie worked at a bookstore and what Jolie didn’t know was I am running a free art and race relations summer camp using my own dollars from the school year for funding. I must say that when you cheerfully give, cheer come back to you.

Thank you Ms. Stephine for your kind words and thank you sincerely, Ms. Jolie

The Talk

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I borrowed Darrin Bell’s The Talk from the library and read it while eating dinner tonight.

I appreciate the labor process he must have went through to share his experiences through art and literature. He did an incredible job. Even though the topic is heavy there are moments of joy and laughter which is what life is about.

When I read his Jewish mom asked his dad to drive them to an apostolic temple, the story had me hooked.

At the end of the Pulitzer Prize cartoon- biography ( I know it’s a graphic novel) I wondered if my brother ever got “The Talk” from our father because I certainly never sat down to any type of talk. Maybe it’s because I’m a female or maybe I did get “the Talk” in a more linear form. All through my childhood and into adulthood I’ve been given the “Talk” and I just took it for granted.

Can someone take a talk for granted? Is it something to take for granted? is the person who doesn’t get the “Talk” free in any way?

Christopher Paul Curtis

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I was super excited to meet Christopher Paul Curtis at the National Book Awards Ceremony this month! I attended without finding out who were on the finalist list. I love surprises…especially if I can control them in some way.

The first thing I would always do when I arrive at the New School (which is where the ceremony is held) is visit the book seller’s table. I do this even before looking at the program. Looking at the books for sell tells me who I will be listening to that night.

When I came across The Journey of Little Charlie by Christopher Paul Curtis, I asked the vendor if he Mr. Curtis was going to be there that night. Sometimes authors don’t show up to the event.

Yeah, I believe so, he responded.

And, sure enough. He was there!

I was really happy to meet him in person because his writing kept me up at night as a little girl. His books were among the many books my favorite librarian, Mr. Hardy, placed in my hand when I was in middle school.

When I introduced myself to him during the intermission, he looked at me and smiled.

It’s a pleasure meeting you, Lystria. Do you teach?

Yes! I do! How did you know?

I actually didn’t. I didn’t know weather to ask if you taught or how old you were! You look so young.

Thank you, Thank you. I get that I a lot. I teach third grade.

Oh, third grade! I still remember my third grade teacher.

He signed my book and we spoke a little bit about his writing habits. I had remembered some of his habits by reading all of his books closely over and over again as a little girl.

Do you still wake up at 6 to write?

He started smiling. Well, Lystria, it’s getting earlier and earlier.

After we spoke, I met other authors. But meeting him and hearing him speak was by far the most nostalgic and settling for me.

Before I left, he introduced me to his wife Mrs. Curtis and author, Andrea Pinkney. They all looked at me in my eyes and told me how thankful they were that I was teaching.

Thank you for teaching our children.  They told me constantly.

I would be lying if I told you I did not leave that event feeling better then when I walked in. The same feeling I felt after reading  Bud, not Buddy or The Watsons go to Birmingham had returned to me when I met Christopher Paul Curtis in person.