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jcgrenn_reads's review against another edition
5.0
How am I supposed to say something about this without it sounding cheap? It was honest, great, educational, emotional, real and eye-opening. It’s so much bigger than just a book or just a memoir; it’s a story of New Orleans, but it’s really the story of all The United States of America and a lot of the people that live here. This book demands to be read, heard, seen, listened to, however you experience it, it has to happen.
kmallon's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
informative
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
4.5
cindypepper's review against another edition
3.0
The scope of The Yellow House is absolutely staggering: Broom weaves stories of her own life, which is inextricable from the story of her family, which is inextricable from the story of the yellow house in which she grew up, which is inextricable from the story of New Orleans. It's ambitious to attempt to braid these all together into one narrative, and while Broom touches upon all of these stories, the novel felt dry and lacking in warmth that I would have wanted from a memoir. It didn't feel very focused, and it was admittedly difficult to stay engaged with the book.
thart3's review against another edition
2.0
Didn't finish it. It was a bit slow, but I will try again later since the reviews were excellent.
plateye's review against another edition
emotional
informative
reflective
sad
5.0
Wonderful. I loved every page. Loved learning about her family and the Yellow House, and how they experienced New Orleans.
saranies's review against another edition
5.0
Beautiful prose about a family in New Orleans East, far from the New Orleans that most of us think of. Broom writes a story that is both her own memoir of growing up the youngest of 12 children in a tiny house, but she also places her family within a larger context. Beautifully written, and the National Book Award was well deserved.
papelgren's review against another edition
5.0
An elegiac masterwork that takes the reader to so many places its difficult to account for them all without just saying "read the book." The details of the marginalized New Orleans East are certainly why a lot of us arrive, there are surprising detours that are a marvel. The Burundi journey that ends with among other things, a "Nairobi fly" bite is quietly revelatory. Broom makes all this brilliant writing and storytelling feel effortless. I kept visiting this book all year, re-reading passages, and thinking about details long after finishing.
kangaruthie's review against another edition
4.0
As many other reviewers have mentioned, this book does not fit neatly into the "memoir" box. The author blends meticulously researched history of her family and the place where she grew up (New Orleans East) with memory, reflection, narrative, and gathered stories from family members.
The book's narrative centers on the Yellow House where the author grew up with her family, and all the symbolism, nuances, and contradictions the house (and her family) contain. The author details Hurricane Katrina ("the Water")'s dramatic impact on her entire family and the Yellow House. The Water displaced her family members and impacted them in both blatant and subtle ways for years and years after the disaster.
The book begins with a detailed history of her family. It honestly took me a little while to get into the book, since the detailed genealogy was a little difficult for me to keep track of (for example, she is one of twelve siblings). However, once she set up the background context, it was easier to dive in and consume the story.
The author explores themes such as inherited generational trauma, the history and mythology of New Orleans, the difficulty of reconciling personal narratives about place and identity, and the racial and socioeconomic inequality she and her family faced growing up as people of color in a neighborhood of New Orleans that is often overlooked by the rest of the city.
Some quotes from the book that stood out to me most:
"Those of us who were born to New Orleans already knew its underbelly. Storms, of all sorts, were facts of our lives. Those images shown on the news of fellow citizens drowned, abandoned, and calling for help were not news to us, but still further evidence of what we long ago knew. I knew, for example, that we lived in an unequal, masquerading world when I was eight and crossing the dangerous Chef Menteur Highway with Alvin. I knew it at Livingston Middle School when I did not learn because no one was teaching me. I knew it in 1994, when we were petrified, afraid the law might kill us - knew it before, during, and after the Water. Katrina's postscript - the physical wasteland - was only a manifestation of all that ailed me and my family in mind and spirit."
"This is the place to which I belong, but much of what is great and praised about the city comes at the expense of its native black people, who are, more often than not, underemployed, underpaid, sometimes suffocated by the mythology that hides the city's dysfunction and hopelessness."
"Who has the rights to the story of a place? Are these rights earned, bought, fought, and died for? Or are they given? Are they automatic, like an assumption? Self-renewing? Are these rights a token of citizenship belonging to those who stay in the place or to those who leave and come back to it? Does the act of leaving relinquish one's rights to the story of a place? Who stays gone? Who can afford to return?"
Highly recommend this book for anyone who is interested in learning about a lesser-known side of New Orleans' history, and/or wants to explore any of these questions the author posits in the paragraph above about place.
The book's narrative centers on the Yellow House where the author grew up with her family, and all the symbolism, nuances, and contradictions the house (and her family) contain. The author details Hurricane Katrina ("the Water")'s dramatic impact on her entire family and the Yellow House. The Water displaced her family members and impacted them in both blatant and subtle ways for years and years after the disaster.
The book begins with a detailed history of her family. It honestly took me a little while to get into the book, since the detailed genealogy was a little difficult for me to keep track of (for example, she is one of twelve siblings). However, once she set up the background context, it was easier to dive in and consume the story.
The author explores themes such as inherited generational trauma, the history and mythology of New Orleans, the difficulty of reconciling personal narratives about place and identity, and the racial and socioeconomic inequality she and her family faced growing up as people of color in a neighborhood of New Orleans that is often overlooked by the rest of the city.
Some quotes from the book that stood out to me most:
"Those of us who were born to New Orleans already knew its underbelly. Storms, of all sorts, were facts of our lives. Those images shown on the news of fellow citizens drowned, abandoned, and calling for help were not news to us, but still further evidence of what we long ago knew. I knew, for example, that we lived in an unequal, masquerading world when I was eight and crossing the dangerous Chef Menteur Highway with Alvin. I knew it at Livingston Middle School when I did not learn because no one was teaching me. I knew it in 1994, when we were petrified, afraid the law might kill us - knew it before, during, and after the Water. Katrina's postscript - the physical wasteland - was only a manifestation of all that ailed me and my family in mind and spirit."
"This is the place to which I belong, but much of what is great and praised about the city comes at the expense of its native black people, who are, more often than not, underemployed, underpaid, sometimes suffocated by the mythology that hides the city's dysfunction and hopelessness."
"Who has the rights to the story of a place? Are these rights earned, bought, fought, and died for? Or are they given? Are they automatic, like an assumption? Self-renewing? Are these rights a token of citizenship belonging to those who stay in the place or to those who leave and come back to it? Does the act of leaving relinquish one's rights to the story of a place? Who stays gone? Who can afford to return?"
Highly recommend this book for anyone who is interested in learning about a lesser-known side of New Orleans' history, and/or wants to explore any of these questions the author posits in the paragraph above about place.