Swing
By Kwame Alexander and Mary Rand Hess
4/5
()
About this ebook
In this YA novel in verse from bestselling authors Kwame Alexander and Mary Rand Hess (Solo), which Kirkus called “lively, moving, and heartfelt” in a starred review, Noah and Walt just want to leave their geek days behind and find “cool,” but in the process discover a lot about first loves, friendship, and embracing life … as well as why Black Lives Matter is so important for all.
Best friends Noah and Walt are far from popular, but Walt is convinced junior year is their year, and he has a plan that includes wooing the girls of their dreams and becoming amazing athletes. Never mind he and Noah failed to make their baseball team yet again, and Noah’s crush since third grade, Sam, has him firmly in the friend zone. While Walt focuses on his program of jazz, podcasts, batting cages, and a “Hug Life” mentality, Noah feels stuck in status quo … until he stumbles on a stash of old love letters. Each one contains words Noah’s always wanted to say to Sam, and he begins secretly creating artwork using the lines that speak his heart. But when his art becomes public, Noah has a decision to make: continue his life in the dugout and possibly lose the girl forever, or take a swing and finally speak out.
At the same time, American flags are being left around town. While some think it’s a harmless prank and others see it as a form of protest, Noah can’t shake the feeling something bigger is happening to his community. Especially after he witnesses events that hint divides and prejudices run deeper than he realized.
As the personal and social tensions increase around them, Noah and Walt must decide what is really important when it comes to love, friendship, sacrifice, and fate.
Swing:
- is written by New York Times bestselling author and Newbery Medal and Coretta Scott King Award-winner Kwame Alexander
- Features a diverse array of characters and perspectives
- tackles the biggest social issues of today, including racial prejudice and Black Lives Matter
- is perfect reading for the classroom or community-wide discussions
- is a 2020 YALSA Quick Pick for Reluctant Young Adult Readers
- contains original artwork tied to the story
If you enjoy Swing, check out Solo by Kwame Alexander and Mary Rand Hess.
Editor's Note
A home run…
Kwame Alexander and Mary Rand Hess, the authors of “Solo,” have hit a home run once again with “Swing.” Jazz and baseball, first love and friendship, and much more all get thrown into this lyrical, heartfelt story.
Kwame Alexander
Kwame Alexander is a poet, an educator, and the New York Times bestselling author of more than thirty-five books, including his Newbery Medal–winning middle grade novel The Crossover. Some of his other works include Booked, which was longlisted for the National Book Award; The Playbook: 52 Rules to Aim, Shoot, and Score in This Game Called Life; Swing; the picture books How to Read a Book and How to Write a Poem (coauthored with Deanna Nikaido), both illustrated by Melissa Sweet; and The Undefeated, illustrated by Kadir Nelson, which was longlisted for the National Book Award and won the Caldecott Medal, a Newbery Honor, and the Coretta Scott King Illustrator Award. He is a regular contributor to NPR’s Morning Edition, currently serving as their poet ambassador. He lives in Virginia with his family. Visit his website at kwamealexander.com.
Read more from Kwame Alexander
Booked Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Crossover: A Newbery Award Winner Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Rebound Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Solo Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Light For The World To See: A Thousand Words on Race and Hope Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Playbook: 52 Rules to Aim, Shoot, and Score in This Game Called Life Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Trinity Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Frankenstein Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Jungle Book Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Cobalt Mask Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsLove & Profanity: A Collection of True, Tortured, Wild, Hilarious, Concise, and Intense Tales of Teenage Life Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Black Hole Bandits Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
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Reviews for Swing
58 ratings8 reviews
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5I love Kwame Alexander, but I'm not sure hearing him read this book was the best choice. I will give this book another chance if I stumble upon it in print.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5The ending of this book makes me think it deserves a higher rating but overall, the book didn't really appeal to me. Granted, I am not the target audience for this YA novel (which seemed to be teenaged black males) so that isn't too surprising. The romance angle to the story was OK but I didn't much care for the style of the writing.Swing - the book's title - has multiple meanings: the swing of a baseball bat, the jazz music style of the 1940s and the nickname of Walt Disney Jones, the main character Noah's best friend. To emphasize the jazz angle, the audiobook has snippets of swing music at various intervals in the book; I found this a bit distracting but it did fit the story well.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5As with all Kwame Alexander books, Swing employs a beautiful rhythm as the story unfolds. Kwame Alexander reads the audio, and he does an amazing job.Noah and Walt, best friends, determine that this year looms as one of their best. They are going to get girls, play baseball, and have a great year. Noah loves Sam, the third in their group, but Sam dates the school jock. This situation plagues him. The amusing part of his life is his grandmother. When his parents leave for a month to go overseas, Noah's grandmother is supposed to move in. She's too busy with her life. Their phone calls are amusing. End result: Noah navigates this month alone with only Walt, the eternal optimist, who wants to throw a party in the house to get Noah socializing. Walt really only has one worry; he worries about his brother who serves in the military. Walt's positivity overwhelms Noah who tends more to the realistic. Walt practices daily to get on the varsity baseball team. His inability to accept his lack of skill pushes him to actually get better. Noah realizes he, himself, will never be a baseball star. They truly balance each other although Walt NEVER shuts up--Noah listens, usually.Walt finds love with the girl who sales Noah a purse. She and Walt are perfect--quoting lyrics and obscure statistics, they are equally full of life. Noah's calmness finds him looking for a more quiet way to express himself. Inside the purse purchased for his mom's birthday, Noah finds a series of love poems. These inspire him to draw and write to Sam, wooing her with art. In the midst of all of this living, someone is mysteriously putting up American flags around town.I enjoyed this novel, but the ending was abrupt and not entirely in keeping with the novel. Maybe it does--life often turns on a dime with no hints, so why not let art imitate life? This novel reflects reality in that the guy doesn't always get the girl and life can be unfair. Overall, it's well done. I didn't like the sudden shift with the end and abrupt ending. I felt like the story was cut short.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Swing by Kwame Alexander is a YA novel about 3 high schoolers told in free verse. It is a sweet story of friendship and high school romances. The ending is somewhat shocking but there was some foreshadowing that they were going to see some ugly sides of growing up in the US.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I haven’t read a book that moved me so much in a very long time. now I don’t know what to do with my life; I’m sitting here, still crying...
2 people found this helpful
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5audiobook (audiobook sync summer 2019 free download)
diverse teen fiction audiobook written in verse (music--classic jazz, art, history, race, love, and heartbreak for modern teens in a nice neighborhood in NYC, ptsd brother back from fighting in Afghanistan, blacklivesmatter)
two boys living through the ups and downs of their lives--sometimes things go well, sometimes there's heartbreak, lots of feelings and misunderstandings that teens can relate to, and then there's BAM. surprisingly powerful, not surprisingly from award-winning author/poet Kwame Alexander. - Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I read this one instead of audiobooking it. I loved being able to see Noah's art on the page. Black out poetry is awesome, but I missed hearing Kwame's voice read me the poems. I think this one would be good to read along with the audio.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This is the second book by this author, Kwame Alexander. It is written in verse. This author writes about the difficulty of being a boy, really liking a girl and not knowing how to tell that girl. This book alos addresses other issues of friendships, race, social justice but mostly it is a coming of age story about a boy who loves his best friend - girl. I enjoyed this one a lot more than the first book, Solo.
Book preview
Swing - Kwame Alexander
Prologue
We were halfway through
junior year.
Rounding the bases.
About to score.
Walt was still pretending
like he wasn’t weird,
and fronting
cool.
Sam was busy being cool, and fine,
while her boyfriend, Cruz,
was busy hitting
home runs
and being president
of the I’m-so-cool-even-my-temper-is-lukewarm club.
And I was in the dugout.
Mostly happy
just watching,
trying to get up the nerve
to get in the game.
Things were pretty much normal:
baseball was still king,
but people were also talking about
the American flags
randomly popping up
around town—on car windows at malls,
in graveyards, graffitied
on freeway exit signs.
Everywhere.
Anywhere.
We were best friends
rounding the bases,
about to score.
Everything was copacetic, Walt liked to say.
Until it wasn’t.
Part 1
Cheesecake
Tryouts
We
go
to
check
the
list
and
for
the
third
year
in
a
row
we
aren’t
on
it.
I’ve liked baseball
since I was three,
when Dad handed me
a glove
that swallowed
my arm.
But Walt has loved it.
His trading cards
fill five albums:
Hank Aaron,
Roberto Clemente,
Bryce Harper,
Carlos Correa,
Willie Mays.
He gave away
all his Sammy Sosas.
We’ve been
to see
the Yankees
at least once
a year.
We love
the hot dogs,
the spin
of a curveball,
the crack
of a well-hit ball.
In our minds
we could hit
anything,
run the bases
like gazelles,
slide into home
safe.
But the truth is
we suck.
Our baseball dream
is a nightmare.
It haunts me.
If only Walt
could catch on
to the signs
the universe
is pitching us,
we could both
move on
from this horror.
Cut
Yo, why are you smiling? This sucks.
Noah, you ever heard of the saying, fourth time’s a charm?
It’s third time’s a charm.
If you’d rather focus on the No, that’s on you. I choose Yes.
YES?! What are you even talking about? We didn’t make
the team. Again. That’s a definitive NO if I’ve ever seen
one.
A setback is a setup waiting for a comeback.
Well, you can come back by yourself. I’m done, Walt.
Noah, this is not the time to give up on chasing cool.
I’m not giving up on cool. I’m giving up on baseball. And
you should too. We’ll find cool another way.
Burger King.
Huh?
Like Burger King, we can have it our way. Don’t give up on
our dreams.
Your dreams.
I’m not the one who studied up on all the greats in
baseball history, and I’m not the one who made his best
friend watch the World Series in silence so he could hear
the sound of every pitch, hit, and catch. And, I’m not the
one who used to want to play catch every day.
Used to.
I’ll tell you this, Noah. I WILL make the varsity baseball
team senior year. Bet on that. I’ll practice harder than
before. Work out harder. Get ripped. Give the whole of my
heart and soul to the glove and the ball. Become one with
the bat. In fact, from now on, Walt’s no longer my name.
From now on, just call me Swing.
I’m not calling you that.
Well, it’s my name. I’m Benny Goodman, yo!
Who’s Benny Goodman?
WHO’S BENNY GOODMAN? Are. You. Kidding. Me.
Primer One
Listen to this
clarinet swing,
he says,
playing a song
on his phone.
That’s Benny Goodman.
The King of Swing,
the Sultan of Smooth,
the Rambo of Rhythm
and Romance.
Really? Rambo?
Jazz is jungle
and jam, yo!
Plum sweetness
from the first note
to the last,
broken time
put together again.
Benny Goodman is the fixer, dude.
He’s sway and swoon,
groove and drive,
melody in your steps,
Bumble Bee Stomp,
butter when you talk,
a chance to dance
offbeat,
an in-the-pocket wish
to come true.
Blue wings
that fly you
to the moon
and back.
Oh, well that explains it completely, I say, shaking my
head. How’d he die? I ask, knowing he’s gonna tell me
anyway.
June 13, 1986.
Benny was taking a nap,
snoozing and doozin’,
then BAM!
But I guess
if you gotta go,
that’s the way
to do it.
I Don’t Understand Jazz
While the rest
of the world
listens to trap
and country music,
I’m listening
to Benny Goodman,
and getting accosted
by Walt
and his after-coffee breath.
To me, jazz sounds like
what biting
into a lemon
would taste like
if you could hear it.
I just don’t see
the plum sweetness, I guess.
Swing
My best friend
Walt Disney Jones
is obsessed with jazz,
baseball,
dead famous people,
and finding cool,
if it’s the last thing
we ever do.
But cool has eluded us
since we met
on the losing-est
third grade baseball team
in the history
of earth.
Cool is Satchel Paige,
the best pitcher
to play the game.
We’re just two
juniors in high school
who’ve struck out
on the field
as much as off.
But Walt’s a
self-proclaimed expert
on how to
never give up
until you win.
In other words,
he’s delusional.
But he is right
about one thing:
Baseball’s in my genes, Noah.
His brother, Moses,
is Satchel Paige incarnate,
a baseball phenom
in our town
who got drafted
by the Yankees,
then disappeared into
a sea of camouflage
when he decided instead
to fight
for our country.
But Walt’s no Moses,
and neither am I.
Discharged
Mo’s coming home from Afghanistan.
YEAH?!
Like this month. MY BIG BRO IS COMING HOME!
WOOHOO!
Perfect timing. Maybe he can teach us how to finally
catch cool. It’s exhausting chasing it.
Noah, we’re gonna own cool. Like, when people google
cool, a picture of me and you spitting seeds and tobacco
with our hats to the back will pop up.
First of all, I don’t chew seeds. And no one chews
tobacco anymore. You gonna eat your fries?
We’re destined to make the team next year.
I told you I’m not trying out again. Gimme your fries.
Quit thinking negatively. Don’t build more walls to block
what’s possible. Crash through, Noah. Crash the heck
through.
Who are you, Oprah now?
It’s from a podcast I listen to.
What podcast?
The podcast that is our ticket out of the desert of
callowness. Life is simple, Noah, but you have to use the
miracle power of your mind to tap into the cosmic power
known as The Woohoo Woman.
I have no idea what that means.
It’s the secret. If we’re gonna learn how women think, we
have to listen to women.
. . . .
Truth
Walt knows everything, believes
in the power of anything,
and the stuff he’s unsure of,
the stuff he doesn’t know, you’d never know,
’cause he’s so confident sharing
every idea, tidbit, factoid,
hypothesis, positive mantra
that floats around
in his big ole brain.
I’m not gifted
like him.
Some things, I tell him,
are actually impossible,
like finding
the right words
to tell Sam
she’s my archangel,
the one who saves me,
the one who flies
through my mind
night and day.
So, I draw.
My Secret
In an old
shoebox
under my bed
are drawings
and patchworks
and art pieces
from third grade
’til now.
Baseball bats,
gloves and balls,
starry nights
and moons,
strange dreams,
and hundreds of
hearts sketched
for Sam.
No one knows
about my secret stash.
No one
but my parents
and Walt.
The Dare
The Odyssey, yo. Really?
What? It’s art.
Libraries consider defacing a book vandalism and
mutilation. It’s a threat to intellectual property. I concur.
Whatever.
Did you hear anything I said, Michelangelo?
I heard every word you said, Mr. Woohoo Woman!
It’s time for us to know ourselves, conquer our inner cool,
or one day we’re gonna end up walking down the street of
possibility, alone, naked, and unhappy.
Dude, you’ve lost me. You gonna eat all your fries?
Did you ask her out yet?
Why are you rushing me?
If 2,539 days is rushing, I’d hate for you to be patient. Yet
do I marvel. Yet do I freakin’ marvel!
She’s my best friend. It’s delicate. When I’m ready, I’ll do it!
FIND a way to tell her, or I’ll tell her for you.
No, you won’t. YOU ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT TELL
HER!
Seven years is a long freakin’ time not to hook up with your
self-proclaimed soulmate.
I never said she was my soulmate.
No, what you said was, and I quote, "Your smile is a joyful
noise that sings to me like a Baptist choir on first Sunday.
So strong, it makes me wanna HOLLA!"
I said that?
Eighth grade, in Mrs. Allen’s class. Killer metaphor, yo!
Oh.
Time to own it, Noah.
Dude, Cruz will kick my—
Assume it won’t come to that.
Why?
The day is coming when she’ll be available.
Doubtful.
Yo, have you noticed she’s calling you a lot more lately,
wanting to study a lot more lately, generally trying to be
all up in our mix lately? You think that’s a coincidence?
. . . .
It’s not. At worst, she’s unhappy. At best, she’s unhinged.
Guys like Cruz can throw you off your center. She can do
better than him. It’s just a matter of time.
How do you know all this?
My cousin Floyd.
Your cousin Floyd? What does he know about this?
HE KNOWS EVERYTHING. He’s the one who hipped
me to the podcast.
Hipped? Who are you, Shaft now?
Floyd used to date a reality TV star, and he knows a thing
or two about love. Girls are always fighting over him.
I think Steve Harvey was going to do an episode about
him and all his lady friends. He’s my romance guru. He
counsels me on my love life.
What love life?
The one where I’m going to the prom with the baddest girl
on earth.
And who is that?
Don’t know. Haven’t met her yet.
. . . .
Anyway, Floyd is super cool, man.
. . . .
Get in the game, yo!
Yeah, okay.
I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. Let’s go see him
tomorrow.
Can’t tomorrow, I’m helping my mom get ready for her
trip.
Then let’s go this weekend.
We’re going to see my granny.
She lives around the corner from you, yo.
Maybe next week.
You’re not getting out of this, Noah. You and me, next
week, at Dairy Queen.
Dairy Queen?
That’s where he’s currently employed.
Wait, he works at Dairy Queen? I thought you said he
was cool?
Here, taste this, he says, mixing his bowl of spaghetti with
his fries. You still want a fry?
. . . .
Next Week
The bell rings.
We all slide out
of our chairs
and rush the doors.
Pretty much everyone else
in my class
casually strolls
to their car,
or a friend’s car,
to drive home, or to a job,
or to get some eats, while
lucky me
still gets to mad dash it
to the bus.
Except for today.
Walt’s been harassing me
for a week to meet
his cousin.
So, today, I’m going to Dairy Queen.
Today, I’m getting schooled
on romance
by a romance guru
who works
at Dairy Queen.
Today, we’re supposedly
coming up with a plan—at Dairy Queen—to
finally
tell my best friend
of seven years
that I think
I love her.
While I’m waiting
for Walt
by the flagpole,
baking beneath sun
hot as the equator,
someone walks up
behind me,
covers my eyes,
and whispers
in a voice
smooth as silk:
Guess who?
Surprise
Sam, Walt, and I
used to hang
every day
after school.
Skipping rocks.
Walks to the lake.
Video games.
Homework.
Just kicking it.
Granted, that was
middle school,
but still, we had fun.
Together.
Ever since
we got to high school,
she’s all new—classes
and friends.
I mean, we still hang,
but it’s always
on her terms,
mostly baseball games
to see Cruz play,
and sometimes
we study together.
Well, she studies.
I listen to music
and crack jokes
with Walt,
and pretend
my heart isn’t beating
like hip-hop,
and my stomach
isn’t all jumbled
like heavy metal.
Like it is
right now, right
now it