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prettypious's review against another edition
4.0
It was interesting reading a memoir written in a more poetic style. I personally don’t think I’d do that again but the author is a beautiful writer and and conveyed her experiences in an interesting nonlinear way. She had a lot of experiences across many continents that both informed and challenged her identity and relationships with girlhood, womanhood, colonization, whiteness and white supremacy, language, and national tragedy. I’d recommend but think of it more as a collection of short personal stories rather than a memoir and it will make more sense/be an easier read.
cgreenstein's review against another edition
dark
reflective
sad
slow-paced
2.25
I really did not like this. I read another review that said the memoir pieces were good, and I agree-- when she wrote about her childhood and early adolescence and what she personally saw and experienced growing up in different countries, I was interested and able to enjoy the writing. These sections were things that only she could have written, and they were insightful observations of her world. I appreciated her unique perspective and found these sections to read smoothly and quickly.
Unfortunately, most of the book consisted of tortured, recurring metaphors about earthquakes (the author has never been in an actual noteworthy earthquake, and while her life has had serious disruptions, the metaphor is extended far beyond its one-time usefulness as a device for starting the book) and a blue chair (symbolizing her isolation and depression, which then serves as a springboard to her ruminations on "madness," which are melodramatic and undermined still further by the decision to use such a questionable term for mental health disorders). These abstract ruminations were repetitive and trite.
Another recurring theme was her fixation on Christianity and her antipathy to it. She astutely notes that everyone has faith, the only question is faith in what, and she also states that her faith is in her father, but she never makes the connection that putting her faith in a human being --who died when she was quite young-- ended in disappointment, whereas faith in an eternal God who does not die will not end in that same way. She certainly doesn't have to believe in a God, but her objections to faith are superficial and show a lack of serious consideration and research and thought. This was frustrating, considering how much of the book is spent on this topic and how she rags on people who do believe in a God.
Where the book really loses its way, however, is in its ruminations on structural racism in broad scope. Her personal experiences with this topic are where her thoughts are freshest and most insightful, but these are limited. Instead, she relates the stories of other people, lists crimes and horrors that happened in places she's never been, and makes sweeping pronouncements about the thoughts and feelings of strangers and groups she does not belong to regarding experiences she hasn't had in order to make her points.
Ultimately, what was so frustrating about this book is that the author's life story is more than interesting enough to stand on its own, as sections of this book ably show. I wish the author had trusted herself and her audience enough to tell *her* story, in all its specific detail, rather than trying to spice it up and pad it out with generic words that other writers could have written.
Unfortunately, most of the book consisted of tortured, recurring metaphors about earthquakes (the author has never been in an actual noteworthy earthquake, and while her life has had serious disruptions, the metaphor is extended far beyond its one-time usefulness as a device for starting the book) and a blue chair (symbolizing her isolation and depression, which then serves as a springboard to her ruminations on "madness," which are melodramatic and undermined still further by the decision to use such a questionable term for mental health disorders). These abstract ruminations were repetitive and trite.
Another recurring theme was her fixation on Christianity and her antipathy to it. She astutely notes that everyone has faith, the only question is faith in what, and she also states that her faith is in her father, but she never makes the connection that putting her faith in a human being --who died when she was quite young-- ended in disappointment, whereas faith in an eternal God who does not die will not end in that same way. She certainly doesn't have to believe in a God, but her objections to faith are superficial and show a lack of serious consideration and research and thought. This was frustrating, considering how much of the book is spent on this topic and how she rags on people who do believe in a God.
Where the book really loses its way, however, is in its ruminations on structural racism in broad scope. Her personal experiences with this topic are where her thoughts are freshest and most insightful, but these are limited. Instead, she relates the stories of other people, lists crimes and horrors that happened in places she's never been, and makes sweeping pronouncements about the thoughts and feelings of strangers and groups she does not belong to regarding experiences she hasn't had in order to make her points.
Ultimately, what was so frustrating about this book is that the author's life story is more than interesting enough to stand on its own, as sections of this book ably show. I wish the author had trusted herself and her audience enough to tell *her* story, in all its specific detail, rather than trying to spice it up and pad it out with generic words that other writers could have written.
melodys_library's review against another edition
2.0
I have a hard time rating memoirs because writing one is such a courageous and cathartic act. Baring your soul for all to see takes courage, and who am I to judge someone’s personal recounting of historical events and his/her life?
What I liked: The history. I appreciated the research on the European colonization of Ghana, Armenian genocide, postcolonial states and diaspora. The chapter about language and discussions on race relations drew me in as well.
What I didn’t like: I’ll admit that I was not moved to tears. There’s no doubt that the author had a traumatic, exhausting childhood experience. However, while the author writes about her emotions, I didn’t find her writing emotional. Also, the paragraphs didn’t flow, and felt disjointed and pieced together. Perhaps that’s what the author intended - for it to feel like phases of an earthquake, which was her driving metaphor?
What I liked: The history. I appreciated the research on the European colonization of Ghana, Armenian genocide, postcolonial states and diaspora. The chapter about language and discussions on race relations drew me in as well.
What I didn’t like: I’ll admit that I was not moved to tears. There’s no doubt that the author had a traumatic, exhausting childhood experience. However, while the author writes about her emotions, I didn’t find her writing emotional. Also, the paragraphs didn’t flow, and felt disjointed and pieced together. Perhaps that’s what the author intended - for it to feel like phases of an earthquake, which was her driving metaphor?
digiomar's review against another edition
challenging
dark
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
4.0
vtlism's review against another edition
I can't withstand this amount of history and stay awake. Not for me. Needs more of a theme/angle/plot for me.
alexismc01's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
informative
reflective
medium-paced
4.5