Scan barcode
A review by mwiseyyy9
Manifesto: On Never Giving Up by Bernardine Evaristo
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
slow-paced
3.0
I seem to have spent half of this book thinking more about what I’d write in a review, rather than the book itself. By the last chapters I felt like I was dragging myself through the mud to finish it.
I love Bernardine Evaristo, although I’ve only read her book Girl, Woman, Other, I think she’s a fantastic author. That book felt like what I had been waiting to read my whole life.
Her manifesto was certainly interesting. I found the delving into her family’s past captivating; giving us a whole new depth and side to the author and allowing us to remember the depth there is in every person.
I also found I really enjoyed her stories from her life: her partners; her different career paths; friends; living situations and more. And I do think the book was inspiring in a sense. It’s refreshing to see someone become mainstream and (by conventional terms) ‘successful’ later on in life. It quietens the fear in me that success must happen young otherwise you’ve wasted your life.
But I did, have several struggles with the book. I found it at times, a bit self indulgent. Overly focussed on how everything was against the author societally. Which is absolutely true but can become exhausting to read after a while. I guess on of my problems with the continual mention of her as so many minorities is that it reminds me of myself. So likely some of my issues is really a reflection of my own insecurity.
I found the book very essay like. At times, reading it felt so stilted and less personal. There were times where what Evaristo was staying was so vulnerable, but I couldn’t feel her emotions through the book; but rather it felt very mattter of fact, and then become almost uninteresting. At times, it even felt like she was listing accomplishments, or hardships, as if to tick some examiners checkboxes.
The layout of the chapters also felt stifled and essay like. In theory, I think the focus on different aspects of her life in different chapters was a good idea, and the lack of chronology across chapters was interesting. But again, I found it very essay like. Almost as if Evaristo had to pon her structure so that some examiner could read it easily and quickly, know what she was saying, and give her an A.
I don’t regret reading the book, and I don’t think I hated it. But I think it didn’t feel emotional and vulnerable enough to me. A memoir is surely an authors way of revealing the many onion like layers inside of themselves, sharing this new side of them with a reader, and I guess, inspiring them. I don’t know if I felt Evaristo through the book. It was inspiring but become somewhat dull and forceful perhaps. I did procrastinate reading the latter half of the book because I was procrastinating the writing of a review. So I can’t promise this is how I felt throughout. I’m sure I enjoyed it more than I’ve let one. But the book didn’t deliver in what I had wanted.
I love Bernardine Evaristo, although I’ve only read her book Girl, Woman, Other, I think she’s a fantastic author. That book felt like what I had been waiting to read my whole life.
Her manifesto was certainly interesting. I found the delving into her family’s past captivating; giving us a whole new depth and side to the author and allowing us to remember the depth there is in every person.
I also found I really enjoyed her stories from her life: her partners; her different career paths; friends; living situations and more. And I do think the book was inspiring in a sense. It’s refreshing to see someone become mainstream and (by conventional terms) ‘successful’ later on in life. It quietens the fear in me that success must happen young otherwise you’ve wasted your life.
But I did, have several struggles with the book. I found it at times, a bit self indulgent. Overly focussed on how everything was against the author societally. Which is absolutely true but can become exhausting to read after a while. I guess on of my problems with the continual mention of her as so many minorities is that it reminds me of myself. So likely some of my issues is really a reflection of my own insecurity.
I found the book very essay like. At times, reading it felt so stilted and less personal. There were times where what Evaristo was staying was so vulnerable, but I couldn’t feel her emotions through the book; but rather it felt very mattter of fact, and then become almost uninteresting. At times, it even felt like she was listing accomplishments, or hardships, as if to tick some examiners checkboxes.
The layout of the chapters also felt stifled and essay like. In theory, I think the focus on different aspects of her life in different chapters was a good idea, and the lack of chronology across chapters was interesting. But again, I found it very essay like. Almost as if Evaristo had to pon her structure so that some examiner could read it easily and quickly, know what she was saying, and give her an A.
I don’t regret reading the book, and I don’t think I hated it. But I think it didn’t feel emotional and vulnerable enough to me. A memoir is surely an authors way of revealing the many onion like layers inside of themselves, sharing this new side of them with a reader, and I guess, inspiring them. I don’t know if I felt Evaristo through the book. It was inspiring but become somewhat dull and forceful perhaps. I did procrastinate reading the latter half of the book because I was procrastinating the writing of a review. So I can’t promise this is how I felt throughout. I’m sure I enjoyed it more than I’ve let one. But the book didn’t deliver in what I had wanted.