The Beautiful Math of Coral: A Novel

By E. Ozie

Coral, Fernando, and coral reefs have something in common-they are lost in the space in which they reside.

Fresh to college and feeling like life has always been against her, Coral leaves her Nigerian parents hoping to escape the thing she hates most . . . art.

As she stumbles deeper into the

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Degree Press
• Release date: May 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9781637300985

Book preview

Author’s Note

When others see a blue sky, I see a sky of possibilities that goes beyond what meets the eye. When others simply gaze at architecture, I think of how much went into it, and I try to imagine the creator’s mind. I watched a movie dealing with architecture and thought the movie would be full of metaphors and symbolism, but it wasn’t. I decided to write a book doing just that—a book with metaphors and symbolism from STEM and Art.

From a young age, my dad always told me I have to become an engineer. If my dad ever asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, he would suppress all aspirations of being anything other than an engineer. It left me with the eerie feeling I didn’t actually have a choice. This pushed me away from my true interests and the dreams I dearly wanted to hold on to.

As my dad was an engineer himself, it didn’t become any easier growing up, trying to convince him I should study in any field that wasn’t science related. I did graphic arts while in high school, and in a way, I could see myself going down an artsy path, but my dad had other plans for me. He had plans that didn’t include art.

After many pushes in the engineering direction, my unsuccessful rebellion led me to choose mechanical engineering because I thought it would incite a little more creativity and design than the others. I’m still trying to find my place in the world of STEM or STEAM. However, my interest in art has led me to discover the beauty of mathematics.

I have put my character Coral in a remarkably similar situation. We are both Nigerian Americans. We are both trying to understand the unfamiliar world of science and math. Coral’s situation, though, has one key difference: she comes from an artsy family and, by pursuing a STEM major, she is trying to escape from something her parents made her hate—art. I reversed Coral’s case because I wanted to separate myself from the character’s choices and fully explore the concept of rebelling against one’s parents and following one’s dreams. If failure is the mother of success, I wanted to meet the mother of rebellion. I wanted to know where Coral’s rebellion could take her.

Through the analogy of coral reefs, Coral, and Fernando, I introduce the idea of belonging and existing as an individual within a group. Coral reefs are disappearing because of several environmental issues such as pollution, overfishing, and climate change. Through Coral and Fernando’s feelings and their treatment by their environment, I want to show that they, too, are coral reefs—beautiful, vibrant beings that go unseen. There is a lot of art and math that goes into the magnificent coral reefs and the lives of Coral and Fernando.

Math and art intertwine in so many ways. I used to think art, math, and science weren’t related, but they’re all used to explain the world around us. From Russell’s Paradox to figurative art, the Golden Ratio to Van Gogh’s turbulence math, the truth and beauty of mathematics and art is all around us. Theories in math and science are abstract thoughts used to explain what we see, experience, why we do things, etc. This is also what art does when you look across the spectrum like from realism to abstract art.

While I still think math is complex and tedious, I also believe something different now: math is poetry, and, in that way, it is art. Once you look at math the same way you look at poetry, which could have multiple meanings attached to it, math can pull you in a whirlwind of finding beauty in unfamiliar things.

STEM is an unconventional beauty used to explore what is around us. There seems to be a one size fits all of what should be considered beautiful, and a lot of times, STEM is not in the equation. From identity to freedom, STEM can help explain these intangible things. Whether you see science, technology, engineering, and mathematics as art is based on your perception. There is never only one right way to understand what you are looking at. STEM and Art can be architecture, a beautiful melody, a painting in a gallery, crochet coral reefs, the infinite lines that make up our universe, number theory, forces of nature, matrices, and much more. The amazing thing about art is that it’s a field of endless possibilities, and in this book, Coral questions if she wants to allow herself to see that.

STEM is such a broad term, yet women, African Americans, and Latinos continue to be some of the most underrepresented groups in the US STEM workforce. Through the craft of storytelling, I want to showcase the experiences faced by Coral, a Nigerian American, and Fernando, a Mexican American, while majoring in STEM. As being underrepresented in the field, like so many others in the STEM community, Coral and Fernando are part of the change to close the STEM gap.

This book goes beyond the issues within the STEM community. It goes beyond STEM and art. This is a book about the sense of belonging, feeling seen, discovery, and love. It’s about losing one’s identity from a young age and trying to find it again in an even bigger stage of life—college. It’s about one young woman’s journey to discovering who she is, what she wants to be in this world, and how she can convince herself and her family to see a new kind of STEM: STEAM (science, technology, engineering, art, and mathematics).

My book speaks to young adults and older who want to grapple with STEM and Art in a new way, and I look forward to exploring these themes and beyond with you. I believe discussing the unconventional beauty in STEM and Art will help us discover the never-ending, captivating magic in so many unfamiliar places.

Deflection and Delay of Light

Our surroundings and future are at an angle, so our view is disrupted.

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Some people may say that since they come from an African household, the only choices for their future are to be an engineer, a doctor, a lawyer, or forget they’re African. These were none of Coral’s choices. Her only choice was and always has been art. Whether it be art in college or her career, it should always be art.

Daddy, did you know there’s a solar eclipse happening near my birthday? Coral asked as she looked up from her phone, staring at the back of her dad’s head. All her belongings she bought for college squished her in the backseat of her dad’s car.

They were on their way to college, the place people claimed as the second-best four years of your life. She was hoping it would be the first best years of her life because high school was not.

A solar eclipse? What is that? Her dad asked as kept his eyes on the road.

Her dad was never much of a science guy. In fact, he tried to make sure anything science or math related was never part of his life, which seemed impossible. He would always rather talk about art.

A solar eclipse is when the moon moves between Earth and the sun. She continued to stare at the back of his head.

She doesn’t usually share science facts with her dad because he is never interested, but she found herself not being able to contain her own excitement for the arriving eclipse. She once tried to share a painting she did of the solar system, but he just ignored it. Instead, he showed her a painting of a man painting himself by looking at a mirror, which he considered better art.

Uh-huh … He made the uh-huh sound. The same exact uh-huh sound Coral hated. It made her feel like what she said didn’t matter, and that drove her insane.

Solar eclipses are not rare, although Coral thought they were because she never knew about them. However, through her research, she discovered there are about two to four of them every year. What was rare, though, was there was one that would happen three days before her birthday.

Have you ever seen an eclipse? Coral questioned again. She already knew the answer. It had to be a no.

He turned left as the light switched green. I’m not sure … maybe.

How do you not know if you saw an eclipse? It’s like a big dark and bright thing that happens in the sky, and you don’t remember if you saw it. Coral was annoyed. She could sense he didn’t care. He never seemed to care.

Coral looked at the sky from her closed window, so the cool air coming out of the dusty air vent wouldn’t escape.

Someone to talk with about solar eclipses, that’s what I want.

You know, back in the day, people believed it was the end of the world when things like that would happen. He talked as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

Like what would happen?

A solar eclipse, isn’t that what you’re talking about? He finally glanced at her through the rearview mirror.

Oh, so he does know what I’m talking about. Coral tried not to roll her eyes. Rolling your eyes in front of an African parent would get you beat on the spot, even in the backseat of a car.

People were scared and running around, going crazy thinking the sky was falling. He flailed his arms around. People were crazy.

For someone who doesn’t know much about solar eclipses, Coral thought he sure talked as if he did or as if he came from 739 BC.

Coral continued to stare out the window, imagining what it would be like to see a solar eclipse. She had done her research and found the one happening near her birthday would only be visible to those in South America, which was a bummer. She wanted to see what happened when the sun and the moon meet. She wanted to wear those special glasses they say you have to wear and then take them off while the eclipse is happening to see if her eyes will damage.

Maybe then, there wouldn’t be only one person in the family with different eyes.

See, I like to think about eclipses happening very similar to that painting by Bosch.

Here he goes. Why can’t he be like the other African dads and tell me proverbs?

Coral was Nigerian American, but her dad didn’t act like other Nigerian fathers.

You know, when Bosch did that painting … ah, I can’t remember the name. He slapped his head, trying to recall the name of the painting.

We were just talking about eclipses.

I can’t remember the name, but I remember how it looks. He glanced back at Coral.

Coral was fixated on her phone, texting her friend Sadia. Sadia was going to be her roommate in college, and she had just moved in on Friday. It was already Sunday, and she was only now getting to campus. Her dad waited until the last minute to drop her off at college like he usually does with other things.

Do you remember the painting I’m talking about? He asked.

No, I don’t.

Hmm, I think the name is something like earthly delights? He tilted his head, trying to think.

It’s The Garden of Earthly Delights, she wanted to say, but she didn’t want to lengthen the conversation, or rather the monologue he was about to have. I wonder how long this one will last?

You probably remember, but what I’m trying to say is the painting has this sort of horror vibe to it as if everyone’s fears came alive and dumped them in that one scene. Sort of like how people used to react to solar eclipses.

Coral has lots of fears, like not making it in time to enjoy the freshman activities. The college was only a thirty-minute drive from their house.

He was making arm gestures now, showing how big the painting was.

It was terrifying. It was dark. It … it … looked like human life depleted. His eyes widen. The thing that looked like a tree looked like bones with holes inside them. It looked like it was missing light.

That makes sense. It was missing light.

Light becomes curved when wrapping around a huge object, such as the sun. She would like to think this was the reason it was missing light.

Maybe I will look to the sun for hope.

Light from a star reaches the sun, and its light ray becomes bent. You see it at an angle. Coral was unclear what angle her view of hope was, but she hoped it was in the sky somewhere at college.

It’s chaos, confusion, and the perfect example of surrealistic fantasy. He continued.

Coral looked up and saw her dad still having his monologue and rolled her eyes, hoping he didn’t see.

He keeps going on and on about it. I bet he doesn’t remember what year the artist created the painting.

A perfect example of surrealistic fantasy of the sixteenth century—1510. He slaps his hand on the steering wheel, sounding extremely excited.

Wow, he surprises me.

You know what painting I’m talking about, Coral, right? He turned his gaze back on Coral again.

Coral’s attention was on her phone. Uh-huh.

She wanted him to stop talking. The solar eclipse was only a test to see if he could remember her birthday or rather if he would ever bring up that one birthday again.

He failed the test.

Outlier in a Data Set

There isn’t a lot of you in the space.

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Coral’s interest in science began in eighth grade.

Her dad bought her a journal with blank pages and told her to use it for art. She didn’t listen and instead used it to take notes for her high school math and science classes.

She wrote in gray while filling up the white spaces with theorems and phenomena. The journal was black and white and filled with knowledge that wanted to slip away after sitting in school for eight hours.

It was the knowledge that got compressed, chewed, and spat. It couldn’t take much space because art always had to be in the picture.

It didn’t dawn on Coral until high school how different her family was from her friends’ families. When other parents wanted to know their children’s grades in their math and science classes, Coral’s parents didn’t care that much.

Coral was fed up with her parents. The summer heat was enticing, new colors in the sky every night. The cool air that would breeze through her house occasionally was no more. She searched for cool air elsewhere, and that was whatever kickback her friends planned the summer before college. Her summers were for drowning out her worries and frustrations. Coral wanted her summer before college to be the escape before the escape.

* * * * * * * * *

Her friends would say, What’s the move? and everyone would either say Sadia’s house or the movies. It was often the mall and movies, but that time during the summer before college, it was Sadia’s house for her graduation party.

Sadia! Coral exclaimed as she had walked through the front entrance of her friend’s house.

Hey, Coral, Sadia grinned, embracing Coral with a hug.

Coral had been over to Sadia’s house countless times before, so it was nothing new. Sadia’s family had become Coral’s family. Before they would go on moves with their friends, Sadia’s house was always the hot spot. They would meet there and get ready for whatever group moves their friends had horribly planned out. Plus, Sadia would usually be the one to give them a ride. She was the friend with the car. For Coral, friends like her were valuable because they could possibly take you anywhere. Although, depending on the friend, you may need to give them some gas money.

You’re here early, again, Sadia joked in a loving, annoyed tone.

Yeah, I know.

How did you get here again? Sadia locked up the door behind her.

Girl, you know I take the bus. She kicked off her shoes and placed them on the shoe rack by the door.

Banks County, Maryland, is where they lived and is where all their friends lived too. Enchanting rhythms were bustling through whatever path they took. Whenever you turned the corner, there were always things that kept the familiar rhythm going: beauty supply stores that sold overpriced hair, laundromats that Coral rarely went into, carryout Chinese restaurants selling fried chicken with an unidentified substance called mumbo sauce.

Coral considered Banks County her space. If you’d ask her if she wanted to leave, she wouldn’t know how to reply.

Leaving to her meant leaving the entire DMV area because she believed the same pattern that raced through Banks County hustled throughout the Washington DC Metropolitan area.

She liked the area, one of the reasons being because of the buses and the metro.

The great part about living in a metropolitan area was the buses and metro. The bad part about living in a metropolitan area was the buses and the metro, because although they claimed to take you everywhere, they couldn’t.

Coral’s dad was out driving his taxi. It turned out being a substitute teacher / art gallery assistant / freelance artist didn’t pay much. Coral’s mom didn’t own a car anymore, not ever since it broke down at a McDonald’s when Coral wanted to go there to get free ice cream on National Ice Cream Day, so she wouldn’t have been able to take her to the party either. The only options were to get a ride from a friend or catch the bus, so she took the bus.

I can’t believe the bus runs on Sunday. Sadia said as she put away her siblings’ toys scattered all over the living room floor.

I know, right. It’s so convenient. But then again, I had to take like four buses to get here because you live far away, so it’s not really that convenient. Coral made herself comfortable at the corner of the couch as Sadia stood by the dining room entrance.

I saw your dad outside with the grill, tables, tents, and lights set up. I guess we about to get down. Wee woo wee woo. Coral pumped her hands in the air and winked.

What are you talking about? Are you talking about alcohol? Sadia exclaimed.

Coral got up from the couch and shushed Sadia. She glanced up the steps and outside to see if her family had heard.

What? They can’t hear us. They’re all outside right now. Sadia shrugged it off.

Oh.

Did you want anything to drink before we head downstairs? Sadia made her way into the kitchen directly opposite the living room, and Coral followed.

Nah, I’m fine.

They passed by the kitchen on their way to the basement steps. There was food cooking on the stove that filled the air with a smell she was used to by now. A tangy, flavoring sensation that would devour her senses every time she came to Sadia’s house.

Coral made her way downstairs with Sadia to her bedroom and flung the door open, thinking she was the only one who had arrived at the party.

The real baddie of the party has arrived. She stood posing like a supermodel at the doorway with her purse in the air as if she were a Valley girl.

One time her teacher in middle school said she sounded like a village girl, but Coral knew he meant Valley girl, as in