Life is funny like that: the road we take, Serling’s signpost ahead, the mis-directed arrow with no GPS capability, point indiscriminately missed. This is it – the lesson – deeply imbedded in Ahjamu Baruti’s collected notes, Scribe’s of Redemption: Letters from an Incarcerated Father to His Incarcerated Son. Baruti’s letters are passionate and profoundly insightful; his sociopolitical observations pensive and intellectual, tender and sharp. He is a scholar, legal student, theologian-of-sorts, who could have achieved many great accomplishments if life had only spun a tougher web…if only the sacred geometry of chance had been less mathematical; if the signpost, perhaps, had been a little less blurred. But Baruti’s no victim (nor does he claim to be), and Scribe’s is nobody’s protest novel, but Bigger’s last rant. By the end of this book we come to realize that Baruti’s search for redemption places him right back on the same beaten path, with incandescent letters post-marked with revolutionary stamps.. …(cont)
