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Zusatztext "[A] powerful debut novel. . . . A great addition to the history shelves, this brings up much for discussion about then and now." ––Booklist, Starred Review "This is history without the sensationalism, in which small acts of resistance eventually change the rules." —The New York Times Book Review "Houston's depiction of racism during the 1950s is brutally honest. . . . With a likeable narator making tough decisions, New Boy is bound to elicit lively discussions." —Book Page "A strongly effective work of historical fiction." —Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books Informationen zum Autor Julian Houston was born in Richmond, Virginia, and educated in the public schools of that city before attending the Hotchkiss School in Lakeville, Connecticut. He attended Boston University and was a community organizer in Harlem during the civil rights movement. He is now an associate justice of the Superior Court of Massachusetts. Julian Houston lives in Brookline, Massachusetts, with his wife and family. Klappentext Fifteen-year-old Rob Garrett wants nothing more than to escape the segregated South and prove himself. But in late 1950s Virginia, opportunity doesn't come easily to an African American. So Rob's parents take the unusual step of enrolling their son in a Connecticut boarding school, where he will have the best education available. He will also be the first student of color in the school's history. No matter?Rob Garrett is on his way. But times are changing. While Rob is experiencing the privilege and isolation of private school, a movement is rising back home. Men and women are organizing, demanding an end to segregation, and in Rob's hometown, his friends are on the verge of taking action. There is even talk about sitting in at a lunch counter that refuses to serve black people. How can Rob hope to make a difference when he's a world away? “It won’t be easy, you know,” said Cousin Gwen. “They won’t take any foolishness up there. Especially from a colored boy.” She was standing on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building in a wrinkled pink housecoat and worn bedroom slippers, giving me some last-minute advice. Her face was the texture and color of a raisin. Her eyes were penetrating. My parents and I had driven up from Virginia the night before on our way to Draper, the boarding school in Connecticut to which I had been admitted. We had spent the night at Gwen’s apartment in Harlem, and now my parents were sitting in the big Buick Roadmaster, waiting for me to climb in. “This is quite an opportunity you have,” said Gwen. “It’s so rare that any of our boys have a chance to go to these schools.” “I’m looking forward to it,” I said, doing my best to sound confident. Until she retired, Cousin Gwen had been a schoolteacher in Harlem for forty years, and as I listened to her, I felt like one of her pupils. It occurred to me that forty years of teaching members of the race had left her with an unerring ability to detect imposters. “You’d do well to keep to yourself at first,” she said, “until you know who you’re dealing with.” Looking back, I’d say it was the best advice I’d ever been given by any adult, including my parents, although I didn’t pay much attention to it at the time. I was eager to get going and she must have recognized it. “Well,” she said with a resigned sigh. “Just remember when you’re up there, they’ll need you back home when you’re finished. Don’t end up like Joe Louis.” In those days, the life of Joe Louis was a cautionary tale for every colored boy from a comfortable home. A big, yaller nigger, as my father would say, Louis was the son of an Alabama sharecropper who became the heavyweight boxing champion of the world. He would make the white folks jittery just by climbing into the ring. In the photographs I saw of him as a child, he was always pokerfaced, the kinks in his hair greased to perfection. He was the most famous Negro of his...
