Book Reviews
“Lucky Medicine” by Lester W. Thompson
It didn’t arrive in a package. It wasn’t wrapped in fancy paper. It didn’t arrive with cake or candles. And yet, the gift you got, that thing that someone gave you was better than anything that could’ve come in a pretty box. It was bigger than you ever expected. As in the new memoir, “Lucky Medicine” by Lester W. Thompson, the gift was a life-changer.

c.2023, Well House Books, Indiana University Press $24.00 196 pages
It didn’t arrive in a package.
It wasn’t wrapped in fancy paper. It didn’t arrive with cake or candles. And yet, the gift you got, that thing that someone gave you was better than anything that could’ve come in a pretty box. It was bigger than you ever expected. As in the new memoir, “Lucky Medicine” by Lester W. Thompson, the gift was a life-changer.
Born and raised in Indianapolis, Lester Thompson grew up with “rules” that his Southern-born parents instilled in him all his life. Even though Jim Crow racism wasn’t entrenched in the North like it was in the South, such rules were “the frame of reference.”
And that lent mystery to a very curious relationship Thompson’s father had with a white Jewish man, Mr. Goodman. Cal Thompson cut Goodman’s hair in the privacy of Goodman’s home; Thompson sometimes accompanied his father there, but he never fully understood the friendship between the two men. He says “It didn’t occur to me to wonder…”
When he was thirteen, he learned the truth: he was named after Goodman, who was his father’s closest friend. Furthermore, Goodman was Thompson’s godfather and he’d made a vow to pay for Thompson’s entire college education.
That he was going to be a doctor someday was another thing Thompson had known all his life. His father, an authoritarian alcoholic, never left any room to question it. And so, after high school graduation, Thompson headed to IU in Bloomington, Indiana.
It was an eye-opener, in many ways.
An only child, Thompson had to learn how to share. He had to learn to live with white people next door, and how to study for classes that seemed impossible to ace. He fell in love, and fell again. And he watched the world change as the Civil Rights Movement began.
“I will never know what prompted Mr. Goodman to make his gift,” Thompson says. “But in the end, I suppose, all that matters is that he did.”
Sometimes, change can come with a big ka-BOOM. Other times, it sneaks in the back door and sits quietly. That mixture’s what you get with this unique memoir, “Lucky Medicine.”
Unique because while racism figures into author Lester W. Thompson’s story, it’s not a very big part, considering the mid-last-century setting. The Movement is barely a blip on the radar; only a handful of troubles with white people are mentioned, and they’re not belabored. So, racism is in this book, but only at whisper-level.
Instead, Thompson focuses on his relatively insulated life, his parents and friends, his studies, and the mysterious, still-unsolved relationship his father had with Goodman. And that’s where this story glows: Thompson’s tale is nostalgic and mundane. It’s not overly dramatic. It doesn’t shout or beg for attention. It’s just warm and happily, wonderfully, ordinary.
Be aware before you share this book with an elder that there are four-letter words in here and a rather eyebrow-raising, too-much-information bedroom scene inside. If you can handle that, though, “Lucky Medicine” is a one-of-a-kind gift.
Book Reviews
Books about Black Women’s Body Image by Various Authors
The last two apps you downloaded were for diets. Ugh. Friends say that you’re perfect but you’d like to lose your flabby arms, your thick thighs, and a few inches from your belly. You imagine what you’d be like if you were a size 6. You wonder if you could wear skinny boots again. But before you download another app, read these books about Black women’s health and body image…

c.2023, various publishers, $26.99 – $29.00, various page counts
By Terri Schlichenmeyer
The last two apps you downloaded were for diets. Ugh.
Friends say that you’re perfect but you’d like to lose your flabby arms, your thick thighs, and a few inches from your belly. You imagine what you’d be like if you were a size 6. You wonder if you could wear skinny boots again. But before you download another app, read these books about Black women’s health and body image…
There’s not just one, but at least two books out this spring that ask if it isn’t time for Black women to reclaim positive self-images about their bodies.
“It’s Always Been Ours” by eating disorder specialist Jessica Wilson (Go Hachette, $29.00), looks at the politics of Black women’s bodies. You don’t need to be told that this isn’t a new thing but the true history of Black women and the harm such negativity has done may still surprise you; Wilson also pulls in the works of novelists, friends, influencers, and others to get the best, most interesting look at the subject. If you want a call to action, this is it.
Along those lines, author Chrissy King says that body liberation is what Black women should strive for, and in “The Body Liberation Project” (Penguin Random House, $28.00), she offers ways to achieve body freedom. What sets her book apart from the Wilson book is less history, more personal tales and thought-provoking question-pages to get readers thinking about how they’ve been thinking about their bodies. Again, there could be surprises in what you learn about yourself.
With these books, King and Wilson advocate for the individual as well as for all Black women and if it feels difficult for you to pick between these two books, then don’t. Read them together or concurrently and you’ll be happier.
But okay, you love your body. Your legs, your arms, your shoulders and hair and smile — so how do you keep all that gorgeousness healthy? You can start with “Black Women’s Wellness” by Melody T. McCloud, MD (Sounds True, $26.99) and learn. Indeed, even if you’re feeling well and looking great, this book explains how to keep yourself that way, starting with what healthy looks like for a Black woman. From there, McCloud touches upon things like cancer, HIV, heart disease and diabetes before moving on to reproductive health, sex, relationships and mental health. It’s written in real language and everything is in simple, easy-to-understand, authentic terms created for grown-ups.
Beware that “Black Women’s Wellness” isn’t a replacement for your doctor or clinic, but it’s a nice question-answerer and a good launching point for knowing your body.
If these three books aren’t exactly what you’re looking for, be sure to ask your favorite librarian or bookseller. Admittedly, there aren’t a lot of modern, new books out there about body image for women of color, but a bookish person can help you find what you need. They’ll be able to put the book in your beautiful hands, your soft arms, for your gorgeous eyes.
There’s no app for that.
Book Reviews
“I Am Debra Lee: A Memoir” by Debra Lee
Everybody’s looking at you. They’re wondering what you’re going to do next, because you often surprise them. They don’t know what you’re about to say because you’re never predictable. So stand up, throw your shoulders back, let them watch and learn a thing or two. As in the new memoir, “I Am Debra Lee” by Debra Lee, represent.

c.2023, Legacy Lit Books, $29.00, 256 pages
By Terry Schlichenmeyer
Everybody’s looking at you.
They’re wondering what you’re going to do next, because you often surprise them. They don’t know what you’re about to say because you’re never predictable. So stand up, throw your shoulders back, let them watch and learn a thing or two. As in the new memoir, “I Am Debra Lee” by Debra Lee, represent.
Back when she was still in grade school, little Debra Lee’s father decided that she would be a lawyer someday — and so she was. Though she often pushed the envelope and was her own person, it was hard to even think of disappointing the Major, a man who always admonished Lee to be a “nice girl.”
Back then, Lee “lived and breathed Black culture,” a feeling she carried through law school and into her first big job at a law firm that “treated its associates well,” and where she instinctively found a mentor who helped her in her niche. He passed along to her a few choice clients, which eventually led Lee to a life-changing introduction to Bob Johnson, who was then the CEO of Black Entertainment Television, or BET.
It was a soul-searching time for Lee. Personally, she’d had a pregnancy she didn’t want, and an abortion, then a marriage that failed. Professionally, the law firm she worked for was no longer a good fit. Johnson offered her a job and a title, but it involved a considerable salary cut, which was tough to take. Still, Lee looked at the long picture and leapt at the opportunity.
The job had its downsides, specifically, eternally long hours and an overwhelming workload with no work-life balance whatsoever, but Lee was undaunted. She learned about the industry and herself, found her limits and sailed past them, and enjoyed the chance to befriend people whose names pepper the tabloids.
She never seriously considered reaching for the stars until she was named COO, with a public face to maintain, a reputation to uphold, and a list of things she’d never do.
And then she did one of them…
For readers who are unfamiliar with the whole story, let’s just say that you’ll want to be prepared. “I Am Debra Lee” contains a big ka-boom.
Leading up to that, though, is a treat: the inner mechanics of a media empire are told side-by-side here with the story of a long, exhausting journey and the personal sacrifices it demanded. It isn’t presented as a burden, however; instead, author Debra Lee holds her tale with a steely grip and no apologies, making sure that she’s clear on the extra work it took being a Black woman in a mostly-man’s world. There’s not a single ounce of poor-me in that but rather, a series of subtle lessons to accompany the outright advice that Lee scatters about.
And then there’s that ka-boom. Read about it from this first-person point of view, and you won’t be sorry. If you’re ready for an absorbing, fascinating memoir that pulls no punches, “I Am Debra Lee” is absolutely worth a look.
Art
“Black Founder: The Hidden Power of Being an Outsider” by Stacy Spikes
Terri Schlichenmeyer, foundation, action, announcement, public sign, hoopties, heirlooms, industry, ideas, business, new book, “Black Founder” by Stacy Spikes, solid, high school graduation, horizon, Stacy Spikes Houston, Texas, dreams, Education, family, college, interest, Los Angeles, career, music, movies, California, drugs and alcohol abuse, Encino, mentored him, Black comedians, recording studio, album covers, Motown, sales, “Black Godfather”, Urbanworld Film Festival, MoviePass, business biography, entrepreneurial advice, author, meteoric rise, setbacks, personal, professional, struggle, hustle, catastrophic events, instruction, entertaining, read for fun, rags-to-riches story, “Never Far from Home” by Bruce Jackson, Brooklyn, public housing, robbery, drug dealers, overcome, inspiring, awe-striking

c.2023, Dafina, $28.00, 256 pages
By Terri Schlichenmeyer
A good building starts with a substantial foundation.
No matter where you go from there, that base is an opening action, an announcement, a public sign of things to come. Whether it’s a new home for humans, hoopties, heirlooms, or the future site of industry or ideas, the foundation is the start of something exciting. In a new business and as in the new book, “Black Founder” by Stacy Spikes, it needs to be solid.
With high school graduation on the horizon, Stacy Spikes was itching to move.
His hometown of Houston, Texas, had become “too small” to hold his dreams. Education was important in his family, but college held no interest to him either. Instead, he was going to Los Angeles to chase a career in music and movies.
He broke the news to his parents and, with $300 in his pocket, he drove northwest.
Once in California, Spikes quickly understood that he didn’t need a job, he needed several of them. Before he could get settled, though, he fell in with a bad crowd and was hospitalized to help him kick drugs and alcohol abuse.
He returned to a job he had working with a two-in-one company in Encino, making and packaging videos. The men he worked with mentored him; it was there that he learned the need to “go to extra lengths to meet [someone] in their field.”
Spikes took acting classes and absorbed as much as he could about old-time Black comedians. He built a recording studio in his home and learned to make album covers, which led him to a job at Motown, where he went into sales and learned how to make an impression. The “Black Godfather” taught him that it was possible to talk with anyone, Black or white, with honesty. And before he founded Urbanworld Film Festival and MoviePass, Motown helped him see that to succeed, “You didn’t need an army, just a small group of like-minded souls set on making a difference.”
Readers looking for a good business biography are in for a nice surprise when they read “Black Founder.” They’ll also get some entrepreneurial advice. It’s not bold-face or bulleted; you’ll have to look for it, but it’s in there.
“Transparency” is what author Stacy Spikes learned early, and it’s what he applies inside this book, which is refreshing. This isn’t a book about a meteoric rise; Spikes instead writes about setbacks, both personal and professional, and times of struggle. Readers can imagine a Parkour-like hustle that Spikes describes as he overcame seemingly catastrophic events and still landed with both feet; such tales serve to instruct as much as does the actual instruction.
Though it may seem to lag a bit — especially for older readers, or those who are unfamiliar with the businesses Spikes founded — “Black Founder” is entertaining enough to read for fun, with a side dish of instruction. Whether you’re ready to act now or you’re just finding your inner entrepreneur, to launch your idea, it’s a good base.
Here’s a rags-to-riches story for you: “Never Far from Home” by Bruce Jackson (Atria, $28) is the story of Jackson’s life. He was born in Brooklyn and lived his early life in public housing. At age ten, he was arrested for robbery (which he didn’t do) and he caught the attention of drug dealers. Knowing then that that wasn’t the kind of life he wanted, Jackson worked hard to overcome his background. His story is inspiring and awe-striking.
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