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mkesten's review against another edition
4.0
Admirers of Tara Westover’s memoir “Educated” will recognize the parallels in Lauren Sandler’s anti-heroine, Camilla Alvarez, a semi-educated single mom of Dominican heritage navigating the jungle of welfare offices in New York City.
Impoverished upbringing. Strange family. Hope for a college degree. Magical thinking.
Only the names have been changed in this true life story to protect the character and her anti-social parents. Changed more likely to protect the protagonist from retaliation.
Sandler started out trying to report on women living in New York’s shelters and ended up telling quite a different story, two stories.
The first story is largely what it takes to crawl out of poverty in the urban jungle when you have no education, no money, no family support system, and have a child out of wedlock.
The second story is simply about housing in New York City. It is a city of unimaginable wealth and a growing army of homeless people, many living on the streets, but even more living hand-to-mouth in shelters.
And for a variety of reasons many of the homeless avoid the shelters. Some avoid them for the very rational reason that they are unsafe. Homeless moms tend not to live on the streets for simple reason that it is unsafe for them and their children.
But people with mental disorders do not get treatment in shelters. The uneducated do not get smarter living shelters. And nobody earns enough money while living in shelters to acquire permanent housing.
In these respects, shelter living is not all that different from prison living. At least in prison you get to work out at the gym and get medical attention.
In Camilla Alvarez, Sandler found a woman who if anybody could make good of her situation it ought to have been this woman: she is talented academically; she is organized; she has a fine memory; and she is attractive.
What Alvarez has going against her: a pathological belief that somewhere there is a man (or THE man) who will share the burden of raising a child and find a steady home; that money will find a way to her; that a college degree will give her sufficient opportunity to escape poverty.
Alvarez travels miles daily by bus and subway to school, to daycare, to welfare meetings, to court paternity hearings, to medical appointments. She loses sleep, she loses her health, and eventually blows her shelter accomodation and her benefits.
Neither her mother or father are capable of caring for her, and her mother only escaped the same total destitution by being lucky enough to grow up in an era when New York really made an effort to build affordable housing.
Not today.
Along the edges of the story are themes we see in many other fine books on the urban landscape and its problems: the proximity of organized crime to the poor (Alex Kotlowitz’ “There Are No No Children Here”), the crisis of low income housing (Matthew Desmond “Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City”), domestic violence (Rachel Snyder “No Visible Bruises: What We Don’t Know About Domestic Violence Can Kill Us”), low wage jobs (Barbara Ehrenrich’s “Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America”), and the racial divide (Michelle Alexander’s classic “The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Era of Colorblindness”).
And this book doesn’t even get into what it means to be aged and poor.
So many of these poor New Yorkers even those who have nuclear families live in overcrowded apartments. Affordable living just doesn’t apply to the thousands of wage workers in New York’s service industries.
Employees of fast food chains, WALMART stores, gig-economy workers, and Amazon warehouse workers: many of these people are on some form of social assistance. The vast majority will never be able to afford a home.
And New York’s neighbourgood’s continue to be raised to create flashy new condominium projects for the upper middle class. And for the billions being socked away away by offshore bandits.
Sandler focuses on the American urban landscape, but you and I know she is talking about a much bigger urban landscape: from Toronto and Vancouver to Mumbai, and Rio, London, and Paris.
The increasing urbanization globally makes more room for the oligarchs and less for the migrant workers.
This story does not have a happy ending. It doesn’t really have an ending, although Sandler does update the reader on Camilla’s situation after the book ends.
It also gave me further appreciation for what Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter have accomplished after Jimmy left the office of President of the United States. As builders of homes.
Impoverished upbringing. Strange family. Hope for a college degree. Magical thinking.
Only the names have been changed in this true life story to protect the character and her anti-social parents. Changed more likely to protect the protagonist from retaliation.
Sandler started out trying to report on women living in New York’s shelters and ended up telling quite a different story, two stories.
The first story is largely what it takes to crawl out of poverty in the urban jungle when you have no education, no money, no family support system, and have a child out of wedlock.
The second story is simply about housing in New York City. It is a city of unimaginable wealth and a growing army of homeless people, many living on the streets, but even more living hand-to-mouth in shelters.
And for a variety of reasons many of the homeless avoid the shelters. Some avoid them for the very rational reason that they are unsafe. Homeless moms tend not to live on the streets for simple reason that it is unsafe for them and their children.
But people with mental disorders do not get treatment in shelters. The uneducated do not get smarter living shelters. And nobody earns enough money while living in shelters to acquire permanent housing.
In these respects, shelter living is not all that different from prison living. At least in prison you get to work out at the gym and get medical attention.
In Camilla Alvarez, Sandler found a woman who if anybody could make good of her situation it ought to have been this woman: she is talented academically; she is organized; she has a fine memory; and she is attractive.
What Alvarez has going against her: a pathological belief that somewhere there is a man (or THE man) who will share the burden of raising a child and find a steady home; that money will find a way to her; that a college degree will give her sufficient opportunity to escape poverty.
Alvarez travels miles daily by bus and subway to school, to daycare, to welfare meetings, to court paternity hearings, to medical appointments. She loses sleep, she loses her health, and eventually blows her shelter accomodation and her benefits.
Neither her mother or father are capable of caring for her, and her mother only escaped the same total destitution by being lucky enough to grow up in an era when New York really made an effort to build affordable housing.
Not today.
Along the edges of the story are themes we see in many other fine books on the urban landscape and its problems: the proximity of organized crime to the poor (Alex Kotlowitz’ “There Are No No Children Here”), the crisis of low income housing (Matthew Desmond “Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City”), domestic violence (Rachel Snyder “No Visible Bruises: What We Don’t Know About Domestic Violence Can Kill Us”), low wage jobs (Barbara Ehrenrich’s “Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America”), and the racial divide (Michelle Alexander’s classic “The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Era of Colorblindness”).
And this book doesn’t even get into what it means to be aged and poor.
So many of these poor New Yorkers even those who have nuclear families live in overcrowded apartments. Affordable living just doesn’t apply to the thousands of wage workers in New York’s service industries.
Employees of fast food chains, WALMART stores, gig-economy workers, and Amazon warehouse workers: many of these people are on some form of social assistance. The vast majority will never be able to afford a home.
And New York’s neighbourgood’s continue to be raised to create flashy new condominium projects for the upper middle class. And for the billions being socked away away by offshore bandits.
Sandler focuses on the American urban landscape, but you and I know she is talking about a much bigger urban landscape: from Toronto and Vancouver to Mumbai, and Rio, London, and Paris.
The increasing urbanization globally makes more room for the oligarchs and less for the migrant workers.
This story does not have a happy ending. It doesn’t really have an ending, although Sandler does update the reader on Camilla’s situation after the book ends.
It also gave me further appreciation for what Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter have accomplished after Jimmy left the office of President of the United States. As builders of homes.
jillianselene's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
4.25
This book is an incredible feat of journalism. The author follows the life of a new mother experiencing homelessness in New York City as she navigates the labyrinth of the system. It’s challenging and infuriating to read at times, but puts a lot into perspective about the wealth inequality in our nation and the impossibility of public assistance for so many people living in poverty. It’s an important read for anyone wanting to learn more about the homelessness crisis, or curious about engaging in this type of activism.
girljames's review against another edition
4.0
The (non-fiction) story of "Camila", a homeless mum in NYC, over the first year of her child's life.
In general it's well written, paced well and covering all the things I would wonder about as well as some things that I had no idea about. This book helped me look something in the face that can be hard to look at.
As usual, my gripe is about prose style (it was a blessing and a curse growing up on Helen DeWitt; I hate almost everyone else's prose). Some vapid, schmaltzy, or unclear bits. But once I started caring about Camila I didn't mind that so much.
In general it's well written, paced well and covering all the things I would wonder about as well as some things that I had no idea about. This book helped me look something in the face that can be hard to look at.
As usual, my gripe is about prose style (it was a blessing and a curse growing up on Helen DeWitt; I hate almost everyone else's prose). Some vapid, schmaltzy, or unclear bits. But once I started caring about Camila I didn't mind that so much.
readers_block's review against another edition
3.0
3.5 ish/5
Having read a lot of similar books, this one didn't really stand out to me. In particular, I had some issues with the way the author wrote it. I felt condescended to in a lot of ways, and thought she spent a good bit of time virtue signaling. Her "privilege" when compared with Camila's life was discussed a lot, whereas most of the similar books I've read the author has left themselves out of it.
Having read a lot of similar books, this one didn't really stand out to me. In particular, I had some issues with the way the author wrote it. I felt condescended to in a lot of ways, and thought she spent a good bit of time virtue signaling. Her "privilege" when compared with Camila's life was discussed a lot, whereas most of the similar books I've read the author has left themselves out of it.
miguelf's review against another edition
3.0
The bulk of this book is dedicated to one young woman’s story in order to illustrate the hardships and realities that homeless people in the US face. It’s often said that one example is a tragedy (while many more are just a statistic), and while that’s true and the particulars of this story will likely be enjoyed by many, it seemed like the author could have expanded the topic at many times to talk more universally about homelessness and leave out some of the turgid detail of one person’s story.
karma_c's review against another edition
4.0
Camila is a "character" that is so easy to like as you struggle through along with her. The author does an excellent job of portraying the difficulties of "professional distance" between journalist and subject. It makes you want to both rescue and lecture the poor girl who has all the tools, but none of the support, she needs to get where she has the potential to go.
bluenicorn's review against another edition
4.0
This is a tough one to describe. I kept going back and forth on it, wondering if I was engaging in middle-class voyeurism, and wondering about the author's ethics. I was left really disheartened at the social services on offer for the most vulnerable. Camila was pretty "with it," and it was a confusing maze of misinformation and hoops to jump through. What on earth would someone in her situation, but also dealing with substance abuse or mental health issues, do? Absolutely maddening.
I also think it's impossible to read this and not think about the importance of sex education and access to abortion and reproductive options. The people who tell her she'll regret her abortion don't help her when she needs a place to stay, and the nuns who advise her of the sins of terminating a life stop caring once that life is brought into the world. They give her a cake when she needs diapers; they give donated items that don't fit and advice that is beyond tone-deaf. Maddening.
The difficulty of getting assistance of any kind was one I thought I understood, but I definitely did not. I knew that it is really hard to get food stamps, even if you're poor and need it; I knew that you couldn't go over a certain amount in your bank account without having your financial assistance pulled, even though it's a really low amount; but I didn't really understand until reading this how much the poor are truly trapped into staying that way, and no one seems to be interested in finding real solutions to end these cycles, even when it's in society's best interest, all-around. Maddening.
And I felt like I saw myself in this book in ways that were uncomfortable. Sometimes in my work I am brought face-to-face with people who have problems bigger than anything I can begin to help with. And I think, "The very least I can do is be kind." And that gives me comfort. But when Camila meets the social worker, Miss Angie, I felt discomfited. She had spirit, she had drive, and she was kind; but she was of absolutely no help. And while it's nice that she wasn't rude and unhelpful, I guess, it really struck me that her kindness didn't mean a place to stay or food to eat- so it didn't... matter. That really gave me pause. Not that I think it doesn't matter to be kind, but because I think it's not a good substitute for actual assistance. She didn't go there to have someone be nice to her- she went to find help and didn't get it. And the heartlessness displayed by Rose was actually pretty relatable to me. Burnout is real, and in social service jobs, it's hard to stay empathetic over years, when you see the same patterns repeating themselves. I'm not saying that's excusable, but I'm saying I was uncomfortable with how I understood. Again- maddening.
There's so much more to discuss about this- probably a good one for a book discussion with the right group. It could easily turn uncomfortable, though- so be prepared for that. In the right hands, that discomfort can turn into real conversation and self-reflection.
I also think it's impossible to read this and not think about the importance of sex education and access to abortion and reproductive options. The people who tell her she'll regret her abortion don't help her when she needs a place to stay, and the nuns who advise her of the sins of terminating a life stop caring once that life is brought into the world. They give her a cake when she needs diapers; they give donated items that don't fit and advice that is beyond tone-deaf. Maddening.
The difficulty of getting assistance of any kind was one I thought I understood, but I definitely did not. I knew that it is really hard to get food stamps, even if you're poor and need it; I knew that you couldn't go over a certain amount in your bank account without having your financial assistance pulled, even though it's a really low amount; but I didn't really understand until reading this how much the poor are truly trapped into staying that way, and no one seems to be interested in finding real solutions to end these cycles, even when it's in society's best interest, all-around. Maddening.
And I felt like I saw myself in this book in ways that were uncomfortable. Sometimes in my work I am brought face-to-face with people who have problems bigger than anything I can begin to help with. And I think, "The very least I can do is be kind." And that gives me comfort. But when Camila meets the social worker, Miss Angie, I felt discomfited. She had spirit, she had drive, and she was kind; but she was of absolutely no help. And while it's nice that she wasn't rude and unhelpful, I guess, it really struck me that her kindness didn't mean a place to stay or food to eat- so it didn't... matter. That really gave me pause. Not that I think it doesn't matter to be kind, but because I think it's not a good substitute for actual assistance. She didn't go there to have someone be nice to her- she went to find help and didn't get it. And the heartlessness displayed by Rose was actually pretty relatable to me. Burnout is real, and in social service jobs, it's hard to stay empathetic over years, when you see the same patterns repeating themselves. I'm not saying that's excusable, but I'm saying I was uncomfortable with how I understood. Again- maddening.
There's so much more to discuss about this- probably a good one for a book discussion with the right group. It could easily turn uncomfortable, though- so be prepared for that. In the right hands, that discomfort can turn into real conversation and self-reflection.
heather01602to60660's review
4.0
Another for the glad I read but made me too angry to say I "enjoyed" it.