Blog Tour + Book Review+ Excerpt: Hurricane Summer by Asha Bromfield

Title: Hurricane Summer
Author: Asha Bromfield
Publisher: Wednesday Books
Release Date: May 4, 2021
Pages: 400

Tilla has spent her entire life trying to make her father love her. But every six months, he leaves their family and returns to his true home: the island of Jamaica.

When Tilla’s mother tells her she’ll be spending the summer on the island, Tilla dreads the idea of seeing him again, but longs to discover what life in Jamaica has always held for him.

In an unexpected turn of events, Tilla is forced to face the storm that unravels in her own life as she learns about the dark secrets that lie beyond the veil of paradise—all in the midst of an impending hurricane.

Hurricane Summer is a powerful coming of age story that deals with colorism, classism, young love, the father-daughter dynamic—and what it means to discover your own voice in the center of complete destruction. 

Pre-order it on Barnes & Noble or Amazon  

My Thoughts

**Thank you so much to NetGalley and St. Martin's Press for sending me an Advanced Reader's Copy in exchange for an honest review as part of the blog tour!**

Tilla and her younger sister, Mia, are visiting Jamaica for summer to spend time with her father. Mia is still young, but Tilla remembers the times when her parents fought and her father left them all behind. To try and patch things up, Tilla flies over to Jamaica where there is no access to the internet or her friends but has a whole island to discover. 

Mom says you get two birthdays. The first day is the day you are born. The second is the day you leave home and give birth to yourself.

It's been over a year since Tilla's seen her father and he greets them as if nothing happened. Soon, however, she realizes that Jamaica isn't what she thought it was. She seems out of place; her extended family seems to hate her and she gets sucked into drama with her cousins.

Foreigna. Something foreign. Something that does not belong. 

Star Rating: ★★☆☆☆ (2) 

I wanted to love this book so much but it just didn't click with me. Going into it I understood that it wasn't supposed to be a happy, fluffy story but the heavy topics discussed were a little too much for me. Instead of so many, I wished the author only chose a few and went in more depth about them.

What I did like about this book was the language. At first, I wasn't used to it, but after flipping back and forth between the glossary a few times, I got the hang of it. It was nice to see it incorporated into the book.

Overall, Hurricane Summer was a roller coaster of emotions about Tilla's summer in Jamaica. Although it wasn't the book for me, those that enjoy a whole mix of emotions will love reading this book.

About the Author

Asha Bromfield is an actress, singer, and writer of Afro-Jamaican descent. She is known for her role as Melody Jones, drummer of “Josie and the Pussycats” in CW’s Riverdale. She also stars as Zadie Wells in Netflix’s hit show, Locke and Key. Asha is a proud ambassador for the Dove Self-Esteem Project, and she currently lives in Toronto where she is pursuing a degree in Communications. In her spare time, she loves studying astrology, wearing crystals, burning sage, baking vegan desserts, and taking walks to the park with her dogs Luka and Kyra. Hurricane Summer is her debut novel.

Excerpt

2

We touch down at 1:46 p.m. local time.

Warm air floods the plane as the doors open, and the sweet aroma of fruit wafts in the air. Passengers race to grab their bags as the thick accent comes over the PA once again:

“Ladiez and gentle-mon, welcome to Kingston, Jamaica. It iz a beautiful day here on the island, and we wish you nothing but irie on your travels. It has been our pleasure to have you on board. As always, thank you for flying Air Jamaica.”

I gently shake Mia awake as Patois begins to pour out all around us. I grab our backpacks from the cabin, and we throw them over our shoulders before trudging off the plane.

As we make our way through the busy airport, we are sur- rounded by a sea of rich, dark skin. I feel courageous as we navigate through the brown and black bodies, and I can’t help but wonder if the feeling of belonging is why Dad loves it so much here.

Once we clear at customs, we continue our trek through the massive airport. All around us, people smile and laugh, and there is a mellowness to their pace. Most of the women wear bright colors and intricate braids in their hair, Afros, or long locks down their backs. An array of sandals and flip-flops

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highlight all the bright painted toenails as Mia and I weave through the crowd.

“Stay close!” I yell, grabbing on to her hand. When we find the exit, I grow nervous knowing what awaits us on the other side. I look to Mia. “You have everything?”

She nods.

“Okay,” I whisper to myself. “Let’s do this.”

With our suitcases lugging behind us, we spill out of the doors and into the hot sun. The heat immediately consumes me, and it is amplified by the chaos and noise that surrounds us. The streets are packed. Loud horns blare, and people yell back and forth in thick, heavy Patois accents. Men argue on the side of the road, their dialect harsh as they negotiate the rates for local shuttle buses. Along the roads, merchants sell colorful beaded jewelry and fruit so ripe that I can taste it in the air. Women wear beautiful head wraps and sell plantains and provisions, bartering back and forth with eager travelers. People spew out of overcrowded taxis, desperate to catch their flights as others hop in, desperate to get home. The sun pierces my skin as the humidity and gas fumes fill my lungs. The ac- tion is overwhelming, and I feel like a fish out of water. As we wait by the curb, there is no sight of our father.

“What if he forgot?” Mia asks.

“He wouldn’t,” I reply. “Mom just talked to him.” “What if he got the time mixed up?”

“He’ll be here.”

But the truth is, when it comes to our father, I can never be sure.

I fight with this idea as five minutes turn into ten, and ten into twenty.

The heat blazes, and sweat drips down my stomach. I check my watch: forty-two minutes.

I pull my pink hoodie over my head to reveal a white tank

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top, tying the hoodie around my waist to better manage the heat. Without my phone, I have no way of contacting him to see where he is.

But he said he’d be here. He gave us his word.

Fifty-six minutes later, our father is nowhere to be found. My eyes frantically search the crowd as I ponder how much his word is truly worth. Time and time again, he has proven that the answer is not much. I turn to Mia, ready to tell her to head back inside. Worry graces her face for the first time since we left. Her carefree attitude fades as the concern of a nine-year-old takes over. I can’t stand to see her like this, and I’ll do whatever it takes to escape the feeling that is bubbling inside of me.

We’ll take the first plane out.

“Mi, Dad’s not coming. Let’s go back insid—”

“Yow! Tilla!” A deep voice interrupts me mid-sentence. I whip my head around to find my father standing a few

feet away with two freshly sliced pineapple drinks in hand. “Daddy!” Mia screams. She drops her things on the curb

and sprints toward him. My heart does somersaults.

One glimpse of my father and I am a child again.