It is my great pleasure to introduce you all to AAMBookClub author,
Christoper D. Burns. Check out his
latest book, Archie’s Psalm and read and excerpt!
Bio:
Originally from Memphis, Christopher D. Burns joined the US Navy after getting into a lot of trouble as a teen shortly after graduating high school. Upon completing Aviation Electricians Mate school, Chris was stationed in San Diego, where he served in the military for four years and worked as an electrician on F-14 Tomcat aircrafts. When his military service was completed, Chris found himself trying to figure out his next move. He once again found trouble living in LA, so he moved back to San Diego and worked as a QA Analyst before being asked to play college basketball at San Diego City College. An injury cut short his basketball aspirations and led to visits to poetry readings in San Diego. At this time he began to write his first book, A Man’s State of Mind. He received an AA in Psychology from Mesa College (SDCCD) in 1997. Chris also began to work as a high school basketball coach and became one of the youngest head coaches in San Diego in 1999.
Originally from Memphis, Christopher D. Burns joined the US Navy after getting into a lot of trouble as a teen shortly after graduating high school. Upon completing Aviation Electricians Mate school, Chris was stationed in San Diego, where he served in the military for four years and worked as an electrician on F-14 Tomcat aircrafts. When his military service was completed, Chris found himself trying to figure out his next move. He once again found trouble living in LA, so he moved back to San Diego and worked as a QA Analyst before being asked to play college basketball at San Diego City College. An injury cut short his basketball aspirations and led to visits to poetry readings in San Diego. At this time he began to write his first book, A Man’s State of Mind. He received an AA in Psychology from Mesa College (SDCCD) in 1997. Chris also began to work as a high school basketball coach and became one of the youngest head coaches in San Diego in 1999.
In
1997, Chris went on to attend San Diego State University where he earned a BA
in English and a Masters of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing. While
attending San Diego State University, Chris wrote Stages: a handbook on men and
relationships, 100 Black and White Questions (co-authored by Kevin Pendleton)
and Archie’s Psalm (which later became his Master’s thesis).
After
graduating with his MFA degree from San Diego State, Chris returned to his
childhood home of Memphis and worked for two years as an instructor of English
at Historically Black College, LeMoyne-Owen College. He resigned to teach high
school English, complete research on building writing skills, and to focus more
on the CB Publishing website www.cbpublish.com,
Center Court Basketball www.centercourtbasketball.com,
a sports and fitness website, and his footwear company ARCH www.arch-usa.com.
Synopsis:
Archie’s
Psalm
is a glimpse into the life of a latchkey kid who is encountering situations
that force him to learn about the changing world around him. A coming of age
story with a carefully crafted narrative and subplot, Archie’s Psalm
shows the transitioning world of a neighborhood in Memphis, TN ten years after
Dr. King’s death. Through the setting, vivid character descriptions and moving
storytelling a hot and humid southern neighborhood comes to life. Through the
use of dialect and song the shifting tone and sound of the south reminds the
reader of Zora Neale Hurstons’ novels. A work of literature that is artistic,
powerful and important. A book that could become as relevant as Ann Petry’s The
Street.
Excerpt:
He
told stories to pass the time. A simple man, never loud. Carried extra quarters
in his pockets, about ten patch made pockets on dingy coveralls, a soft white
shirt beneath the faded denim straps over his shoulders. The only look on his
face I remember was like the quiet warmness after a summer rain. His half smile
marked with crescent moons at the corners of his mouth and lines like folds in
brown blankets at the corner of his eyes. His skin soft with bristled hair,
even on his hands hair grew. He carried a walking stick sometimes, and walked
through the streets each morning and each afternoon. Maybe to see what we was
doing, us latchkey kids, us thugs. But we wadn’t so bad, just bored, and
he knew that.
He
told stories to pass the time, stories of uprisings, niggers, Tom’s, fools,
white folks, but mostly it was stories about the neighborhood that stuck to me.
Me
and the guys ran all over the streets bothering and startling the old folks. He
just stood when we would ride by, looking at us act up. He never did nothing to
us unless he found us being too mannish. Folks used to say he carried bricks, a
small piece of brick in each overall pocket. He caught Lil Tony trying to scare
Ms. Phillips once. He saw him and from what Tony said,
“I
was ridin right, ridin, Buck, I wasn’t even messin wit Ms. P. I ain’t lyin.”
“What’d
he do, what’d he do?” I kept asking. Tony’s toughskins were scuffed pretty bad
on purple knee patches. His palms was dirty with little scrapes on chubby
hands. His jaws shook when he got excited.
“I
ain’t lyin Buck, I ain’t-”
“Tony,
what’d he do?”
“He
threw one at me.”
“No
he didn’t.”
“Yeah
he did.”
“Did
it hit you? Did it hurt?”
“You
ask stupid questions Buck.”
“You
the one that’s stupid. You know how Old Man Fishstick act when he see Ms. P.”
“Yeah
but-”
“That’s
why you got hit,” I laughed.
“Didn’t
exactly get hit though, I just saw him raise his hand. So I jumped off my bike.
He walked up an-”
“An
he laughed at you an walked away, didn’t he? Don’t lie.”
“Yep,
he jus laughed an walked off.”
“An
he lef you sumthin?”
“A
quarter.”
“Me
too.”
‘Pretty
Ms. P,’ was what he called her. Old Man Fishstick was what we used to call him.
He always talked with Ms. P, but not much to many other folks. I even noticed
him take out his folded red kerchief with the white designs on it to wipe his
brow, before she would see him. He’d pull off his old blue hat and pull at the
tufts of gray hair matted to the sides of his head. He’d even walk a little bit
slower with longer strides. Such long strides I think would’ve been hard with a
pocket full of bricks. I had found out that their wadn’t no bricks a long time
before any body else. What it was, was quarters in small, cloth brown bags. But
I didn’t tell nobody seein as he only had em every once in a while. Anyways, I
asked him why he always fixed up himself, when he see Ms. Pat.
“Ya
know what a peacock is?”
“Yes
suh.”
“Find
out why peacocks look like they do, an then ask me why, an I’ll tell ya.”
Still
don’t know why peacocks look like they do, but I’m trying to get the answer.
Christopher
D. Burns, MFA
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