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arisbookcorner's review against another edition
2.0
I truly appreciate what the author was trying to do here but it just doesn't work in this format. I think it could have been stronger if he had focused solely on Bed-Stuy and his time there instead of making it a memoir. Or perhaps if he had just cut out this random chapter about his time at Graceland 2 which felt like the insertion of an essay he'd written in the past that he thought should be included in the book (which it sort of is). Or maybe he should have abandoned the gentrification focus and instead wrote more generally about struggling in New York City as an artist interspersed with his thoughts on film (because we are subject to plenty of those and I'd never heard of half the movies he mentioned). I also have to echo other reviews that it's strange Harris decided to tackle this topic when he has few interactions with the people OF Bed-Stuy. Most of his comments are simply based on observations which are not without merit but the book would have been stronger if he had talked to non gentrifiers as well. And on a personal note this was an incredibly stressful read because I wanted to pull him aside and give him a serious talking to about getting a real job to make ends meet in between films. But I don't hold that life choice against him.
The writing is not bad though which actually makes it even more frustrating because it's clear that there's potential within its pages. Harris is a talented writer, he makes keen observations of the people around him and fills the book with a great deal of wit. His gentrification observations just seem to fall to the wayside in order for him to reflect on his own life outside of NYC/filmmaking in general which is really not what I expected or how the book sells itself. The best insights are when he's musing on middle class Black life, being a Black millennial and what it's like to be a Black gentrifier. A passage in particular struck a cord with me as he talks about his middle class family falling victim to the Great Recession as so many Black families did. Or when he reflects on his relationship with his first white roommate, Tony, and how class issues and racial tension drove them apart. Reflections such as those allow the book to resonate, albeit briefly, before the author takes us off on another tangent.
In short this memoir is extremely disjointed with random chapters but it is at its strongest when Harris is describing the history of Bed-Stuy with a compelling style or reflecting on his experiences as a Black millennial gentrifier. The book falls apart when it bounces away from its New York setting either in Cincinnati or Mississippi. Which is not to say his observations in those chapters aren't interesting, but they don't fit the rest of the book and it seriously disrupts the flow. This memoir is trying to be about Brandon Harris, gentrification and film criticism all at once and its attempt to juggle all three topics fell flat for me. But I'd be willing to read Harris on any of those topics individually.
The writing is not bad though which actually makes it even more frustrating because it's clear that there's potential within its pages. Harris is a talented writer, he makes keen observations of the people around him and fills the book with a great deal of wit. His gentrification observations just seem to fall to the wayside in order for him to reflect on his own life outside of NYC/filmmaking in general which is really not what I expected or how the book sells itself. The best insights are when he's musing on middle class Black life, being a Black millennial and what it's like to be a Black gentrifier. A passage in particular struck a cord with me as he talks about his middle class family falling victim to the Great Recession as so many Black families did. Or when he reflects on his relationship with his first white roommate, Tony, and how class issues and racial tension drove them apart. Reflections such as those allow the book to resonate, albeit briefly, before the author takes us off on another tangent.
In short this memoir is extremely disjointed with random chapters but it is at its strongest when Harris is describing the history of Bed-Stuy with a compelling style or reflecting on his experiences as a Black millennial gentrifier. The book falls apart when it bounces away from its New York setting either in Cincinnati or Mississippi. Which is not to say his observations in those chapters aren't interesting, but they don't fit the rest of the book and it seriously disrupts the flow. This memoir is trying to be about Brandon Harris, gentrification and film criticism all at once and its attempt to juggle all three topics fell flat for me. But I'd be willing to read Harris on any of those topics individually.
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