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Corwin wrote two books about the LAPD, Homicide Special and The Killing Streets; both are very good, but And Still We Rise, about a year spent with the seniors in the gifted program at Crenshaw High School in Los Angeles, is even better.
There is not a single white student at Crenshaw High, and the vast majority of the students in the gifted program (and probably the general student body as well) are not merely poor and subject to racism and class prejudice, but have had the odds stacked against them since they were born: broken homes, missing fathers, abusive relatives, no relatives willing to take them, violent and drug-ridden neighborhoods, no good role models, and so forth.
When Corwin starts following the students, it's the last year that affirmative action is still in effect in California. The book is in large part an argument for affirmative action, as Corwin points out the vast disadvantages that affirmative action can only partially offset: the Crenshaw students must work part or even full-time to survive, many of them live in environments not remotely conducive to study (roach-infested apartments, gang neighborhoods, appalling group homes), their parents are absent or working all the time, there are no books in their houses, they don't get the expensive (and very effective) SAT coaching wealthier parents buy as a matter of course, few AP courses are offered at the schools (which drives their grade point averages down, as an A in those classes is 5 points instead of 4), the schools are missing vital supplies such as textbooks-- I could go on.
However, the book is primarily about a handful of the students, and their brilliant and inspiring teacher who is also an emotional trainwreck. The character portraits are beautifully drawn, and the book leaves you awed by the determination of the students (several of whom identify strongly with the social upstart Gatsby), who do their best to learn and thrive under circumstances that would daunt a mature adult. Because of this, the book doesn't leave you grim and despairing of humantity, but uplifted by the spirit of the kids and furious at the situation. Especially toward the end, when the students are applying for colleges-- and can't afford to go at all unless they get huge amounts of financial aid-- this reads like a thriller. Highly recommended.
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil is about the laid-back, eccentric town of Savannah, Georgia; its eccentric residents; and an unusual murder trial. Berendt is a sharp observer and his ear for the rhythyms of speech is particularly good; I suspect that his book on Venice suffered from having to translate everyone's dialogue into English from the original Italian.
Though Berendt seems more comfortable with the rich white folk, the more interesting characters are poor or black: a black transsexual, an alcoholic inventor trying to create glow-in-the-dark goldfish, a lawyer perenially in trouble with the law. Berendt loves the lush, inbred atmosphere of Savannah, but, though he doesn't dwell on it, I'm not sure conditions are much better there than they are in Crenshaw, unless you're rich and white, not to mention straight-- or, at least, well-closeted.
There is not a single white student at Crenshaw High, and the vast majority of the students in the gifted program (and probably the general student body as well) are not merely poor and subject to racism and class prejudice, but have had the odds stacked against them since they were born: broken homes, missing fathers, abusive relatives, no relatives willing to take them, violent and drug-ridden neighborhoods, no good role models, and so forth.
When Corwin starts following the students, it's the last year that affirmative action is still in effect in California. The book is in large part an argument for affirmative action, as Corwin points out the vast disadvantages that affirmative action can only partially offset: the Crenshaw students must work part or even full-time to survive, many of them live in environments not remotely conducive to study (roach-infested apartments, gang neighborhoods, appalling group homes), their parents are absent or working all the time, there are no books in their houses, they don't get the expensive (and very effective) SAT coaching wealthier parents buy as a matter of course, few AP courses are offered at the schools (which drives their grade point averages down, as an A in those classes is 5 points instead of 4), the schools are missing vital supplies such as textbooks-- I could go on.
However, the book is primarily about a handful of the students, and their brilliant and inspiring teacher who is also an emotional trainwreck. The character portraits are beautifully drawn, and the book leaves you awed by the determination of the students (several of whom identify strongly with the social upstart Gatsby), who do their best to learn and thrive under circumstances that would daunt a mature adult. Because of this, the book doesn't leave you grim and despairing of humantity, but uplifted by the spirit of the kids and furious at the situation. Especially toward the end, when the students are applying for colleges-- and can't afford to go at all unless they get huge amounts of financial aid-- this reads like a thriller. Highly recommended.
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil is about the laid-back, eccentric town of Savannah, Georgia; its eccentric residents; and an unusual murder trial. Berendt is a sharp observer and his ear for the rhythyms of speech is particularly good; I suspect that his book on Venice suffered from having to translate everyone's dialogue into English from the original Italian.
Though Berendt seems more comfortable with the rich white folk, the more interesting characters are poor or black: a black transsexual, an alcoholic inventor trying to create glow-in-the-dark goldfish, a lawyer perenially in trouble with the law. Berendt loves the lush, inbred atmosphere of Savannah, but, though he doesn't dwell on it, I'm not sure conditions are much better there than they are in Crenshaw, unless you're rich and white, not to mention straight-- or, at least, well-closeted.