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A review by lizshayne
Sassafrass, Cypress & Indigo by Ntozake Shange
challenging
emotional
hopeful
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
This is one of those stories that is not precisely magical except that the magic of living in the world permeates the character's perspective and I am always wondering whether there are speculative elements wandering through the text or I just have my own reading stance that's hard to shape.
This is the kind of book that probably gets called a "slim volume" as a way of negotiating with all the *waves hands* everything inside it. Which is true. It's a book that, to me (and, again, because of where I stand) talks about the parent/child relationship and the work that parents do to give their children the world, except it's not the world, but <i>their</i> world, and in the refusal of the gift comes both heartache and growth. While at the same time I don't want to universalize a particularly African American experience and the story Shange tells of the Southern parents who want their children to win at everything they didn't have and the children who refuse to play the white game entirely; instead seeking something that is wholly theirs. And while the attempt to make that which happened un-happen is (always) fruitless, the home we come back to is never the home we left. Which is also the point.
It's also the story of a time that has become history, told from its own present (and with its own presence) and looking back with all that knowing is a kind of strange distance to a story not meant to be distant.
Also holy cow, did this book make me hungry. Speaking of legacies of the body.
This is the kind of book that probably gets called a "slim volume" as a way of negotiating with all the *waves hands* everything inside it. Which is true. It's a book that, to me (and, again, because of where I stand) talks about the parent/child relationship and the work that parents do to give their children the world, except it's not the world, but <i>their</i> world, and in the refusal of the gift comes both heartache and growth. While at the same time I don't want to universalize a particularly African American experience and the story Shange tells of the Southern parents who want their children to win at everything they didn't have and the children who refuse to play the white game entirely; instead seeking something that is wholly theirs. And while the attempt to make that which happened un-happen is (always) fruitless, the home we come back to is never the home we left. Which is also the point.
It's also the story of a time that has become history, told from its own present (and with its own presence) and looking back with all that knowing is a kind of strange distance to a story not meant to be distant.
Also holy cow, did this book make me hungry. Speaking of legacies of the body.