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2020: I really enjoyed An American Marriage and was excited to get my hands on another one of Jones' books. I would recommend starting with either if you're new to Tayari Jones, but I think I liked AAM a little bit better.
This novel follows a daughter who has just discovered that her and her mother are the "secret, second" family in her father's life. Overall, a quick read with some excellent character studies in familial relationships. VERY MESSY.
The story really picks up when you first hear from the "other daughter" - or is she the "real daughter"? Not that the book wasn't engaging to begin with, but having the opposite viewpoint and both of the daughters grow older was really intriguing. I loved the way their lives intersected and overlapped, both intentionally and not.
This novel follows a daughter who has just discovered that her and her mother are the "secret, second" family in her father's life. Overall, a quick read with some excellent character studies in familial relationships. VERY MESSY.
The story really picks up when you first hear from the "other daughter" - or is she the "real daughter"? Not that the book wasn't engaging to begin with, but having the opposite viewpoint and both of the daughters grow older was really intriguing. I loved the way their lives intersected and overlapped, both intentionally and not.
2020: Just finished. Whoa.
The big takeaway that the author wants you to leave this book with is that Native American identity is not homogenous. There are many types of Indians and they live and experience the world in many different types of ways, just like any other group of people. However, this could have been better supported by a greater variety in the stories.
Bless the editor that insisted on Orange including a "Cast of Characters" in the front of the book, for I used it many times. Honestly, I could not keep track of who everyone was. The book really didn't engage me until the stories started to overlap. I thought Orange took too long to get to that point; I actually checked in with a friend of mine who read the book to make sure that they were all going to intersect at SOME point.
I also found it very difficult to keep track of everyone's ages. Perhaps because Opal was a young grandmother? Or perhaps because her narration started when she was much younger, so I got stuck thinking about her as a child? I was also confused by Edwin and Blue's ages (they were in their 40s apparently?!)
The ending dimmed the overall pace and cadence of the novel. It felt like a rollercoaster that was slowly gaining and building speed, only to crest the top of the track, speed down the hill, and crash upon impact. The vibe felt like the author wasn't sure how to end the book, so he decided to just kill everyone. Very Hamlet of him (seriously - there might be fewer people alive at the end of this story than in Denmark).
That all being said, if you're looking to gain insight into what issues and challenges Native Americans face in a modern setting, this is a rich and detailed account. The writing is solid and the descriptions intense, even if the characters can be over the top and the plot devastatingly bleak.
The big takeaway that the author wants you to leave this book with is that Native American identity is not homogenous. There are many types of Indians and they live and experience the world in many different types of ways, just like any other group of people. However, this could have been better supported by a greater variety in the stories.
Bless the editor that insisted on Orange including a "Cast of Characters" in the front of the book, for I used it many times. Honestly, I could not keep track of who everyone was. The book really didn't engage me until the stories started to overlap. I thought Orange took too long to get to that point; I actually checked in with a friend of mine who read the book to make sure that they were all going to intersect at SOME point.
I also found it very difficult to keep track of everyone's ages. Perhaps because Opal was a young grandmother? Or perhaps because her narration started when she was much younger, so I got stuck thinking about her as a child? I was also confused by Edwin and Blue's ages (they were in their 40s apparently?!)
The ending dimmed the overall pace and cadence of the novel. It felt like a rollercoaster that was slowly gaining and building speed, only to crest the top of the track, speed down the hill, and crash upon impact. The vibe felt like the author wasn't sure how to end the book, so he decided to just kill everyone. Very Hamlet of him (seriously - there might be fewer people alive at the end of this story than in Denmark).
That all being said, if you're looking to gain insight into what issues and challenges Native Americans face in a modern setting, this is a rich and detailed account. The writing is solid and the descriptions intense, even if the characters can be over the top and the plot devastatingly bleak.
2021: blah blah blah blah
First off, I'll be completely frank: I thought that this book would tie back in to [b:The Handmaid's Tale|38447|The Handmaid's Tale (The Handmaid's Tale, #1)|Margaret Atwood|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1578028274l/38447._SY75_.jpg|1119185] ~somehow~ and seeing as how I read both that and [b:The Testaments|42975172|The Testaments (The Handmaid's Tale, #2)|Margaret Atwood|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1549292344l/42975172._SY75_.jpg|66802198] in 2020, I figured now would be a good time to read it. I WAS WRONG. I knew they weren't written by the same author, and I had never heard that they were very related, I just knew that they both took place in Gilead, and thought that might lend a little meaning to Robinson's novel!
Again, that was very misguided of me and ultimately incorrect. The only connection is that both Gileads are filled with very RELIGIOUS people who live there. Robinson's novel is an external monologue from Preacher John Ames without much input from any other characters. Unfortunately, I happen to disagree with this very conservative, seventy-six year old man from Iowa who spends his days writing sermons, so needless to say, I wasn't very into it.
Maybe I just wasn't in the right headspace for this, or maybe I was too much on Team Jack Boughton when it comes to how religion can cloud a community's biases. There is just an overwhelming amount of Biblical references that I am very out of practice with. Ames' obsession with Boughton (and near complete ignorance of his own son) pays off at the VERY end of the book (I'm talking a decent twist in the last ten pages of this book). But it was again too little too late.
I should have stopped reading this book when I got to page 42 and the narrator was bemoaning the community's lack of appropriate response to the Spanish Flu pandemic (TOO SOON). Mostly, I'm walking away very confused at why, in 2005, a story about a stuck-in-his-ways preacher who lived in the early 1900s won the Pulitzer. This is the same guy who fell in love with a parishioner over thirty years his junior. hhmmm. I found it difficult to follow which generation the narrator was referencing, especially because it was written in the second person. Overall, definitely not my fav.
"Every single one of us is a little civilization built on the ruins of any number of preceding civilizations, but with our own variant notions of what is beautiful and what is acceptable–which, I hasten to add, we generally do not satisfy and by which we struggle to live."
First off, I'll be completely frank: I thought that this book would tie back in to [b:The Handmaid's Tale|38447|The Handmaid's Tale (The Handmaid's Tale, #1)|Margaret Atwood|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1578028274l/38447._SY75_.jpg|1119185] ~somehow~ and seeing as how I read both that and [b:The Testaments|42975172|The Testaments (The Handmaid's Tale, #2)|Margaret Atwood|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1549292344l/42975172._SY75_.jpg|66802198] in 2020, I figured now would be a good time to read it. I WAS WRONG. I knew they weren't written by the same author, and I had never heard that they were very related, I just knew that they both took place in Gilead, and thought that might lend a little meaning to Robinson's novel!
Again, that was very misguided of me and ultimately incorrect. The only connection is that both Gileads are filled with very RELIGIOUS people who live there. Robinson's novel is an external monologue from Preacher John Ames without much input from any other characters. Unfortunately, I happen to disagree with this very conservative, seventy-six year old man from Iowa who spends his days writing sermons, so needless to say, I wasn't very into it.
Maybe I just wasn't in the right headspace for this, or maybe I was too much on Team Jack Boughton when it comes to how religion can cloud a community's biases. There is just an overwhelming amount of Biblical references that I am very out of practice with. Ames' obsession with Boughton (and near complete ignorance of his own son) pays off at the VERY end of the book (I'm talking a decent twist in the last ten pages of this book). But it was again too little too late.
I should have stopped reading this book when I got to page 42 and the narrator was bemoaning the community's lack of appropriate response to the Spanish Flu pandemic (TOO SOON). Mostly, I'm walking away very confused at why, in 2005, a story about a stuck-in-his-ways preacher who lived in the early 1900s won the Pulitzer. This is the same guy who fell in love with a parishioner over thirty years his junior. hhmmm. I found it difficult to follow which generation the narrator was referencing, especially because it was written in the second person. Overall, definitely not my fav.
"Every single one of us is a little civilization built on the ruins of any number of preceding civilizations, but with our own variant notions of what is beautiful and what is acceptable–which, I hasten to add, we generally do not satisfy and by which we struggle to live."
2021: tl;dr "you should be a vegan, but I'm not and it's hard and here are some personal anecdotes about my family." - JSF
This book is like if [b:Here I Am|31434269|Here I Am|Jonathan Safran Foer|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1471029768l/31434269._SX50_.jpg|46010281] and [b:Eating Animals|6604712|Eating Animals|Jonathan Safran Foer|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327877480l/6604712._SY75_.jpg|3149322] had a baby. It's a mix of JSF's anecdotes about his family, his own personal beliefs (it often read just like a memoir), and essays about climate change. The overall takeaway that JSF wants you to get is: although curbing fossil fuel consumption is essential to minimizing the effects of climate change, that's not going to happen fast enough. The best thing to do would be a vegan.
JSF acknowledges that that is a difficult ask for a lot of people, and so he proposes a compromise: be a vegan for breakfast and lunch, and do what you can to minimize your consumption at dinner. Okay, I'm on board with that. Unfortunately, presenting that theory only really takes up about ~30 pages of this book, and there's 200 other pages of fluff.
The first 70 pages fly by without a single mention of becoming a vegan. JSF takes advantage of the fact that most of his audience is going to read this book BECAUSE he's JSF, and not because they are that interested in veganism/climate change (else they would have picked a book by a scientist). JSF spends an entire section (approx 50 pages) in an argument with himself (literally, he's trading claims with his "soul"). This all fell flat for me, and left me feeling like JSF wanted a pat on the back for acknowledging that it can be difficult to be a vegan.
Overall, there are some good takeaways from the argument, but it would have worked a lot better as advertised. I enjoyed the personal anecdotes from JSF's life, but that's because I like him, not because I think it supported his everyone-should-be-a-vegan(if-you-can-I-know-it's-hard) thesis.
“Replacing animal products with alternatives seems to be the only pragmatic way to reverse climate change before it is too late.”
“The opposite of someone who eats a lot of animal products is someone who is attentive to how often he eats animal products.”
“Land that could feed hungry populations is instead reserved for livestock that will feed over fed populations”
This book is like if [b:Here I Am|31434269|Here I Am|Jonathan Safran Foer|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1471029768l/31434269._SX50_.jpg|46010281] and [b:Eating Animals|6604712|Eating Animals|Jonathan Safran Foer|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327877480l/6604712._SY75_.jpg|3149322] had a baby. It's a mix of JSF's anecdotes about his family, his own personal beliefs (it often read just like a memoir), and essays about climate change. The overall takeaway that JSF wants you to get is: although curbing fossil fuel consumption is essential to minimizing the effects of climate change, that's not going to happen fast enough. The best thing to do would be a vegan.
JSF acknowledges that that is a difficult ask for a lot of people, and so he proposes a compromise: be a vegan for breakfast and lunch, and do what you can to minimize your consumption at dinner. Okay, I'm on board with that. Unfortunately, presenting that theory only really takes up about ~30 pages of this book, and there's 200 other pages of fluff.
The first 70 pages fly by without a single mention of becoming a vegan. JSF takes advantage of the fact that most of his audience is going to read this book BECAUSE he's JSF, and not because they are that interested in veganism/climate change (else they would have picked a book by a scientist). JSF spends an entire section (approx 50 pages) in an argument with himself (literally, he's trading claims with his "soul"). This all fell flat for me, and left me feeling like JSF wanted a pat on the back for acknowledging that it can be difficult to be a vegan.
Overall, there are some good takeaways from the argument, but it would have worked a lot better as advertised. I enjoyed the personal anecdotes from JSF's life, but that's because I like him, not because I think it supported his everyone-should-be-a-vegan(if-you-can-I-know-it's-hard) thesis.
“Replacing animal products with alternatives seems to be the only pragmatic way to reverse climate change before it is too late.”
“The opposite of someone who eats a lot of animal products is someone who is attentive to how often he eats animal products.”
“Land that could feed hungry populations is instead reserved for livestock that will feed over fed populations”
2021: What the actual fuck just happened in this book?
Okay, so presumably you've made it here because you just finished [b:The Shadow of the Wind|1232|The Shadow of the Wind (The Cemetery of Forgotten Books, #1)|Carlos Ruiz Zafón|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1597921581l/1232._SY75_.jpg|3209783], had a great time, and decided to add The Angel's Game to your TBR. I am here to say STOP, DO NOT DO THAT, STAY AWAY ENTIRELY! I have never been so whiplashed by a sequel / prequel of a book I truly loved.
The first act of The Angel's Game sets up an interesting premise, although I have been fatigued by the number of novels based on religion that I've read recently. I thought that perhaps that frustrated me more than usual here, until I reread a passage that reminded me that no, this was worthy of frustration: "The main pillar of organized religion, with few exceptions, is the subjugation, repression, even the annulment of women in the group. Woman must accept the role of an ethereal, passive, and maternal presence, never of authority or independence, or she will have to suffer the consequences. She might have a place of honor in the symbolism, but not in the hierarchy. Religion and war are male pursuits. And anyhow, woman sometimes ends up becoming the accomplice in her own subjugation." Cool.
I was left with the impression that this would be a similar story to SotW, simply with a new narrator. I would define Daniel of SotW as a reliable narrator and a genuine good person that I spent the novel cheering for. I would define David of TAG as the antithesis of that. It just makes no sense why any of the characters who are involved in the "mystery" central to the book would even open up to David - he gives them no credible reason to trust him.
David's a full on creep to Isabella, his "assistant", a 17-year-old who LITERALLY shows up out of nowhere, ready to cook and clean for him, requiring no payment. Then, his best friend's driver's young daughter, who he's in love with, ends up marrying his best friend because David didn't "make a move". A couple chapters later, she divorces the bff and absconds with David abroad, because she "couldn't image life without him". Excuse me, what?! -1 for (you guessed it) not passing the Bechdel test.
As Zafón's describing one of the most pivotal scenes in the book, in which [REDACTED] drowns, he intersperses the fast paced scene with a weird tense: "I remember that I began to run." Sure, the whole narration takes place in the past, but nowhere is it indicated that David is remembering this story, or that he's recounting it to someone else. These inconsistencies appear throughout the book, and threw me off every time.
The third and final act of this wretched book involved David killing every single person he's met in the book (either by murder or manslaughter) and then the reveal that two different sets of characters are, in fact, the same people, oh and btw David is now immortal. The end. What a mess.
Okay, so presumably you've made it here because you just finished [b:The Shadow of the Wind|1232|The Shadow of the Wind (The Cemetery of Forgotten Books, #1)|Carlos Ruiz Zafón|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1597921581l/1232._SY75_.jpg|3209783], had a great time, and decided to add The Angel's Game to your TBR. I am here to say STOP, DO NOT DO THAT, STAY AWAY ENTIRELY! I have never been so whiplashed by a sequel / prequel of a book I truly loved.
The first act of The Angel's Game sets up an interesting premise, although I have been fatigued by the number of novels based on religion that I've read recently. I thought that perhaps that frustrated me more than usual here, until I reread a passage that reminded me that no, this was worthy of frustration: "The main pillar of organized religion, with few exceptions, is the subjugation, repression, even the annulment of women in the group. Woman must accept the role of an ethereal, passive, and maternal presence, never of authority or independence, or she will have to suffer the consequences. She might have a place of honor in the symbolism, but not in the hierarchy. Religion and war are male pursuits. And anyhow, woman sometimes ends up becoming the accomplice in her own subjugation." Cool.
I was left with the impression that this would be a similar story to SotW, simply with a new narrator. I would define Daniel of SotW as a reliable narrator and a genuine good person that I spent the novel cheering for. I would define David of TAG as the antithesis of that. It just makes no sense why any of the characters who are involved in the "mystery" central to the book would even open up to David - he gives them no credible reason to trust him.
David's a full on creep to Isabella, his "assistant", a 17-year-old who LITERALLY shows up out of nowhere, ready to cook and clean for him, requiring no payment. Then, his best friend's driver's young daughter, who he's in love with, ends up marrying his best friend because David didn't "make a move". A couple chapters later, she divorces the bff and absconds with David abroad, because she "couldn't image life without him". Excuse me, what?! -1 for (you guessed it) not passing the Bechdel test.
As Zafón's describing one of the most pivotal scenes in the book, in which [REDACTED] drowns, he intersperses the fast paced scene with a weird tense: "I remember that I began to run." Sure, the whole narration takes place in the past, but nowhere is it indicated that David is remembering this story, or that he's recounting it to someone else. These inconsistencies appear throughout the book, and threw me off every time.
The third and final act of this wretched book involved David killing every single person he's met in the book (either by murder or manslaughter) and then the reveal that two different sets of characters are, in fact, the same people, oh and btw David is now immortal. The end. What a mess.
2020: Wow. I've been thinking about this series of essays non-stop ever since I started reading them. Coates' basic thesis is that we should have seen a Trump presidency coming. This is a hard pill to swallow, but an essential one (especially for well-meaning white liberal females, of which I am one).
Coates introduces each of the essays, placing them in the context in which they were written, from the perspective of someone who knows what happens after Obama's eighth year in power. The essays are powerful, personal, and persuasive, but none so much as the one that put Coates on the map, "The Case for Reparations". Luckily, you can read that for free online:
https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2014/06/the-case-for-reparations/361631/
Essential reading for anyone who still is wondering how we, as a nation, could have elected someone as completely opposite from Obama as Trump, and especially essential so that we do not repeat the same mistakes in the future. Also, for anyone who doubts that racism is still pervasive and in full swing in our country.
"Implicit in the notion of code-switching is a belief in the illegitimacy of Blacks as Americans, as well as a disbelief in the ability of our white peers to understand us."
"Barack Obama delivered to black people the hoary message that in working twice as hard as white people, anything is possible. But Trump’s counter is persuasive—work half as hard as black people and even more is possible."
Coates introduces each of the essays, placing them in the context in which they were written, from the perspective of someone who knows what happens after Obama's eighth year in power. The essays are powerful, personal, and persuasive, but none so much as the one that put Coates on the map, "The Case for Reparations". Luckily, you can read that for free online:
https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2014/06/the-case-for-reparations/361631/
Essential reading for anyone who still is wondering how we, as a nation, could have elected someone as completely opposite from Obama as Trump, and especially essential so that we do not repeat the same mistakes in the future. Also, for anyone who doubts that racism is still pervasive and in full swing in our country.
"Implicit in the notion of code-switching is a belief in the illegitimacy of Blacks as Americans, as well as a disbelief in the ability of our white peers to understand us."
"Barack Obama delivered to black people the hoary message that in working twice as hard as white people, anything is possible. But Trump’s counter is persuasive—work half as hard as black people and even more is possible."
2020: Ultimately, I loved all of the characters in this book, and I thought Straub artfully tackled a lot of messy and complicated topics. However, there was too many differing narratives going on at once, and a more streamlined story would have been more successful. This book would make a great season (or two!) of TV; it gives me lots of "This is Us" vibes.
The idea of all of the characters being adults in their own multigenerational way perfectly plays out. Astrid & Birdie's story is so stinkin' cute, as well as Porter's whelp, I guess I'll just have a baby then. One thing that I really loved about this story was how pro-only children it was. Between Astrid thinking that siblings are ridiculous and unnecessary in old age (hard agree) and Cecelia "who'd been a adult all her life" (girl, I feel that), it makes me wonder if Straub is an only child.
The ending was blah; the book just sort of stopped. It did not wrap up anything (what happened with Rachel's husband? Did Elliot turn the abandoned building into a Beauty Bar??) I really didn't like the chapter narrated by Barbara, as it felt very out of place.
Cecelia perfectly encapsulates my feelings towards 2020 and my own future when she says, "And so five years sounded like an eternity. Now, instead of any of that, there was just a giant empty space, like her future had been abducted by aliens, a question mark floating in the sky."
The idea of all of the characters being adults in their own multigenerational way perfectly plays out. Astrid & Birdie's story is so stinkin' cute, as well as Porter's whelp, I guess I'll just have a baby then. One thing that I really loved about this story was how pro-only children it was. Between Astrid thinking that siblings are ridiculous and unnecessary in old age (hard agree) and Cecelia "who'd been a adult all her life" (girl, I feel that), it makes me wonder if Straub is an only child.
The ending was blah; the book just sort of stopped. It did not wrap up anything (what happened with Rachel's husband? Did Elliot turn the abandoned building into a Beauty Bar??) I really didn't like the chapter narrated by Barbara, as it felt very out of place.
Cecelia perfectly encapsulates my feelings towards 2020 and my own future when she says, "And so five years sounded like an eternity. Now, instead of any of that, there was just a giant empty space, like her future had been abducted by aliens, a question mark floating in the sky."
2020: I have been a fan of Sow & Friedman's podcast since its inception in 2014, so this book was RIGHT up my alley. I've seen a little bit of criticism circling around how indulgent the book is for fans of their podcast, which I can confirm is very true, but also, why are you not already a fan of their podcast?!
That being said, as a woman in her late twenties whose past decade has been defined by the women she's been friends with and not the men she's dated, this book was a true gift for me. I ended the book feeling similar to how I felt after finishing All the Single Ladies by Rebecca Traister (who happens to be a close friend of Sow's, which just makes this lady gang all the more inspirational).
This book did what I wanted Text Me When You Get Home to do (and even quotes its author, Kayleen Schaefer). Big Friendship takes some of the theory explored in TMWYGH and roots it in personal examples from each of the authors' lives. They discuss their difficulties in maintaining their intense level of communication after they move to different cities, what happens when white friends don't acknowledge subliminal racism, and how important it is to have multiple Big Friendships in your life.
The best part about this book is its ability to acknowledge when its authors fucked up. I wish all of the memoirs I read were half as honest as these two authors, because it's very encouraging and refreshing. These women are real, their gChats are relatable and horribly punctuated, and their struggles and complications are ones that are particularly accessible for friendships in 2020.
That being said, as a woman in her late twenties whose past decade has been defined by the women she's been friends with and not the men she's dated, this book was a true gift for me. I ended the book feeling similar to how I felt after finishing All the Single Ladies by Rebecca Traister (who happens to be a close friend of Sow's, which just makes this lady gang all the more inspirational).
This book did what I wanted Text Me When You Get Home to do (and even quotes its author, Kayleen Schaefer). Big Friendship takes some of the theory explored in TMWYGH and roots it in personal examples from each of the authors' lives. They discuss their difficulties in maintaining their intense level of communication after they move to different cities, what happens when white friends don't acknowledge subliminal racism, and how important it is to have multiple Big Friendships in your life.
The best part about this book is its ability to acknowledge when its authors fucked up. I wish all of the memoirs I read were half as honest as these two authors, because it's very encouraging and refreshing. These women are real, their gChats are relatable and horribly punctuated, and their struggles and complications are ones that are particularly accessible for friendships in 2020.
-%20The%20Origins%20of%20Our%20Discontents.jpg)
2021: An incredibly timely take on how racism is currently manifesting itself in America today.
I both knew quite a bit of what Wilkerson covered in this book (for example, the shock that most Africans experience upon coming to the United States, as never have been treated as "Black" before) and did not know many things she discusses (for example, the extent to which the Nazis based their laws on examples from the American south).
I was particularly struck by Wilkerson's trip to India to attend a conference. She met a fellow researcher on caste, who needed to ask her what her caste was by US standards. Wilkerson, who has moved through life in America with people judging her immediately upon sight, with no regard to her degrees or publications or family history, was taken aback by this question. It's something that I have never had to grapple with, and was a really eye-opening anecdote to how we judge others in the US.
I can't help but wonder if Wilkerson wished that she could have waited on publishing this book, and have the hindsight of the George Floyd protests, the end of the pandemic, and Biden winning the 2020 presidential election in the rearview mirror before wrapping up her conclusions. However, I imagine that before 2021 is over, I'll have another seven (plus or minus) example reasons that could be good arguments for why waiting until 2022 would have been better. I (unfortunately) expect that I will continue to have good examples of racism for a long time now.
My only hesitancy in giving this book five stars was its repetition. This is completely understood; racism is everywhere and it is happening constantly, everyday. That being said, I did not feel like I quite needed every single example so thoroughly fleshed out. Perhaps that is my white privilege talking, and I would be equally as critical if it were under-researched. I would recommend a slow move through this book, with time and space to reflect on each chapter, because it is A LOT. You cannot speed through this book in the same way that I made it through [b:Mediocre: The Dangerous Legacy of White Male America|53056522|Mediocre The Dangerous Legacy of White Male America|Ijeoma Oluo|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1569299522l/53056522._SY75_.jpg|66444954].
I both knew quite a bit of what Wilkerson covered in this book (for example, the shock that most Africans experience upon coming to the United States, as never have been treated as "Black" before) and did not know many things she discusses (for example, the extent to which the Nazis based their laws on examples from the American south).
I was particularly struck by Wilkerson's trip to India to attend a conference. She met a fellow researcher on caste, who needed to ask her what her caste was by US standards. Wilkerson, who has moved through life in America with people judging her immediately upon sight, with no regard to her degrees or publications or family history, was taken aback by this question. It's something that I have never had to grapple with, and was a really eye-opening anecdote to how we judge others in the US.
I can't help but wonder if Wilkerson wished that she could have waited on publishing this book, and have the hindsight of the George Floyd protests, the end of the pandemic, and Biden winning the 2020 presidential election in the rearview mirror before wrapping up her conclusions. However, I imagine that before 2021 is over, I'll have another seven (plus or minus) example reasons that could be good arguments for why waiting until 2022 would have been better. I (unfortunately) expect that I will continue to have good examples of racism for a long time now.
My only hesitancy in giving this book five stars was its repetition. This is completely understood; racism is everywhere and it is happening constantly, everyday. That being said, I did not feel like I quite needed every single example so thoroughly fleshed out. Perhaps that is my white privilege talking, and I would be equally as critical if it were under-researched. I would recommend a slow move through this book, with time and space to reflect on each chapter, because it is A LOT. You cannot speed through this book in the same way that I made it through [b:Mediocre: The Dangerous Legacy of White Male America|53056522|Mediocre The Dangerous Legacy of White Male America|Ijeoma Oluo|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1569299522l/53056522._SY75_.jpg|66444954].
2021: This has been on my TBR list for so long and it did not disappoint.
In my opinion, Fr Greg inhabits the best elements of Catholicism, and ignores the more problematic ones. You won't find any mention of sexual assault from priests in this book, and Fr Boyle keeps quiet on whether he's pro-choice or not, avoiding alienating any of the more conservative members of his faith. I felt this could have been made more clear in this memoir, but I look forward to checking out [b:Barking to the Choir: The Power of Radical Kinship|34467028|Barking to the Choir The Power of Radical Kinship|Gregory Boyle|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1510482422l/34467028._SY75_.jpg|55587073] and seeing what more is included there.
Don't get me wrong - Fr Greg is doing GREAT work, and really living one of the most influential and positive lives I've ever read about. Homeboy Industries is held up as the epitome of doing God's work within the Jesuits, and deservedly so - it's an incredible program, doing excellent work. I would have enjoyed a little more of the Homeboy origin story in this book, but Fr Greg makes it clear from the beginning that that's not the book's primary goal.
I'd recommend knowing a little bit about Jesuits or Fr Gregory Boyle before tackling this book. Fr Greg does a pretty good overview of the major tenants of Catholicism, but a little background on the Society of Jesus (a subset of Catholicism of which Fr Greg is a member) would benefit anyone checking out this book coming from an unfamiliar perspective.
This book is not preachy at all, and offers stories and lessons applicable to everyone, not just those within the Catholic faith. Occasionally, Fr Greg will slip into "we do this work because Jesus would have wanted us to", which lost me because I don't believe we need an old man in the sky to force us to be nice to one another. That being said, Fr Greg belongs in the same league as Dorothy Day, Fr James Martin, and Sister Helen Prejean, and I look forward to continuing to read and learn about his life and work.
In my opinion, Fr Greg inhabits the best elements of Catholicism, and ignores the more problematic ones. You won't find any mention of sexual assault from priests in this book, and Fr Boyle keeps quiet on whether he's pro-choice or not, avoiding alienating any of the more conservative members of his faith. I felt this could have been made more clear in this memoir, but I look forward to checking out [b:Barking to the Choir: The Power of Radical Kinship|34467028|Barking to the Choir The Power of Radical Kinship|Gregory Boyle|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1510482422l/34467028._SY75_.jpg|55587073] and seeing what more is included there.
Don't get me wrong - Fr Greg is doing GREAT work, and really living one of the most influential and positive lives I've ever read about. Homeboy Industries is held up as the epitome of doing God's work within the Jesuits, and deservedly so - it's an incredible program, doing excellent work. I would have enjoyed a little more of the Homeboy origin story in this book, but Fr Greg makes it clear from the beginning that that's not the book's primary goal.
I'd recommend knowing a little bit about Jesuits or Fr Gregory Boyle before tackling this book. Fr Greg does a pretty good overview of the major tenants of Catholicism, but a little background on the Society of Jesus (a subset of Catholicism of which Fr Greg is a member) would benefit anyone checking out this book coming from an unfamiliar perspective.
This book is not preachy at all, and offers stories and lessons applicable to everyone, not just those within the Catholic faith. Occasionally, Fr Greg will slip into "we do this work because Jesus would have wanted us to", which lost me because I don't believe we need an old man in the sky to force us to be nice to one another. That being said, Fr Greg belongs in the same league as Dorothy Day, Fr James Martin, and Sister Helen Prejean, and I look forward to continuing to read and learn about his life and work.