Review: Between the World and Me (by Ta-Nehisi Coates)

 

My Rating: 5 stars

Browsing through my book news emails a couple weeks ago, I kept coming across reviews for Ta-Nehisi Coates’s newest book The Message (which I have not yet read but definitely want to) and it reminded me that I’ve had his award-winning masterpiece Between the World and Me on my TBR forever, but never got around to reading it.  Well, recently, I had the chance to pick this one up and I have to say, I was absolutely blown away.  In this book-length autobiographical essay, which is written in the format of a letter to his teenage son Samori, Coates shares his struggles growing up as a black man in America.  In meticulous, beautiful prose, Coates presents the harsh realities of America’s deeply ingrained attitudes toward race, placing it within the context of our country’s fraught history and the implications it has had (and continues to have) on society.  Coates does not mince words – he is searingly honest about the “American plunder” and how the nation was built on the backs of colored bodies.  At the same time, this essay can also be read as a father’s passionate (and desperate) plea for his son’s continued survival navigating a system where the odds are perpetually stacked against him.

In her endorsement of Between the World and Me back when it came out in 2015, the late, great Toni Morrison not only called the book “required reading,” she also praised Coates as essentially the heir-apparent to James Baldwin’s legacy: “I’ve been wondering who might fill the intellectual void that plagued me after James Baldwin died. Clearly it is Ta-Nehisi Coates.”  Indeed, a close reading of Coates’s book shows the numerous ways in which he pays respectful homage to Baldwin, from the epistolary format in which he frames his personal narrative (which is a nod to Baldwin’s famous letter to his nephew in his seminal essay collection The Fire Next Time) to the writing style, phrasing of words, narrative voice, and most significantly, emotional resonance.

This is a profound and powerful book – a modern classic that is absolutely a “must-read” for all Americans.  At once a gut-punch and a wake-up call, this book is not an easy read by any means, but it is a necessary read as well as a timely one (especially given the events of the last few days). Highly, highly recommended!

 

Review: Bomb Shelter (by Mary Laura Philpott)

My Rating:  3.5 stars

I read this for book club and overall, I enjoyed this well-written and witty memoir-in-essays.  Mary Laura Philpott begins the book with the incident that changes her life (and that of her family) forever:  the medical emergency that wakens her in the middle of the night, where she finds her teenage son unconscious on the bathroom floor. In the aftermath, Philpott wonders whether she she should've seen warning signs of her son's condition, but more broadly, she ponders the limitations of the human ability to protect and keep those we love safe.  A self-admitted lifelong worrier, yet also possessing a sunny disposition that helps her balance her anxious thoughts by focusing on the bright side of things, Philpott looks back at various aspects of her life and explores essential questions related to love, family, relationships, anxiety, death, fear, etc. — basically all the realities of human existence.

While reading this, I definitely appreciated the many insights that Philpott conveyed as well as the way she approached so many tough issues with a sense of humor.  In exploring various situations that occurred in her life, Philpott is candid and doesn't shy away from showing her vulnerability and insecurities in her roles as wife, mother, daughter, friend, or just as an ordinary person trying to live her life as best she can, in a challenging world.  There were a few essays that I related to more than others, and some I ended up skimming because I found it difficult to maintain my focus (most likely because that particular essay's subject matter didn't appeal to me).  I especially loved the essays about the turtles and also the peculiar behavior of the family dog, which I found hilarious.  The meditation chapter made me chuckle and, not surprisingly, it quickly became one of my favorite essays in the book.

Even though not all of the essays spoke to me, I still recommend reading this one, as I really enjoy Philpott's style of writing and the way she is able to infuse humor when relaying difficult topics, but in a way that is respectful and doesn't make light of the seriousness of some situations.  I would definitely be interested in reading more of Philpott's works at some point.

Received ARC from Atria via NetGalley. 

Review: These Precious Days (by Ann Patchett)

My Rating:  5 stars

Happy New Year!



I can't think of a better way to start off the new year than with a 5 star read, especially one written by one of my favorite authors, Ann Patchett.  I actually started Patchett's newest essay collection (published in November last year) on Christmas Eve and even though I technically could've finished it in one sitting, I decided instead to savor it over the New Year's holiday. Going into this book, I already knew it would be one I'd love and now after finishing, I can say with certainty that Patchett definitely did not disappoint — reading her essays evoked in me a roller coaster of emotions, but more importantly, the experience made me reflect on aspects of my own life and gave me food for thought on a few things.

Even though some of the essays I had actually read already back when they had been originally published in magazines and papers such as The New Yorker, Harper's Magazine, etc., I still re-read every word, and in so doing, picked up one some things I had missed the first time.  The ones I hadn't read before, I learned things that I would not have known otherwise, which is the beauty of a collection such as this one where the essays run the gamut from funny to poignant and every emotion in between. 

This is also a book where the cover (or, in this case, two covers) added tremendous meaning to the content — to this point, it was fascinating to read about how the cover came about and the significance of it to this particular collection of essays.  Content-wise, I also loved the additional insights into Patchett's previous novels and story collections, which made me want to go read (and in some cases re-read) her other works.

Overall, I loved all the essays in this collection, but if I really had to choose my favorites, they would be as follows:

"Three Fathers" — This essay, in which Patchett wrote about her relationship with her father and two stepfathers, was actually published in The New Yorker last year and I had already it at that time, but I still enjoyed reading it again.  

"My Year of No Shopping" — This was a short essay, only a few pages long, yet there was a profound lesson about learning how to value the things we have.

"How to Practice" — This was another essay I had already read when it was published in The New Yorker and I remember at that time, how fascinated I was with it, mainly because I also have a lot of stuff that I don't realize I have because a lot of it is hidden (out of sight, out of mind).  Reading it a second time now was actually more meaningful because I've been in "decluttering mode" lately so the timing was perfect.

"To the Doghouse" — Omg, this was one of my favorite essays!  I love Snoopy and to learn how big a role the world's most beloved beagle had on Patchett becoming a writer, I was absolutely there for it!  

"Flight Plan" — In this essay, Patchett writes about her husband Karl's love for flying planes, but it also reveals why their relationship works so well.  So sweet!

"There Are No Children Here" — This essay especially resonated with me, as I've had many of the same encounters with people about the decision to not have children.  I love how Patchett handled the various scenarios she found herself in — it definitely made me admire her even more!

"The Nightstand" — In this essay, an unexpected chance encounter opens the floodgates for Patchett to go through some old papers that help her rediscover parts of herself that she didn't realize meant so much and how much her family inadvertently helped her come to this realization.  

"Cover Stories" — I loved learning the behind-the-scenes stories about how the covers for her books came to be! 

"These Precious Days" — This essay, about how Patchett came to form a close friendship with Tom Hanks' assistant Sooki Raphael, was essentially the backbone of the book.  I had actually read this one previously as well, yet on second reading, it felt so much more poignant (especially after reading the Epilogue to the book).

"What the American Academy of Arts and Letters Taught Me About Death" — This essay was absolutely fascinating and so learned so much about the literary world that I had no clue about.  And of course, as an avid reader, seeing so many great authors mentioned here whose works I admire was especially meaningful.

"A Day at the Beach" — The last essay in the book and also a follow up to Sooki's story  — poignant, heartfelt, and one of the most touching pieces in the book!

Review: Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning (by Cathy Park Hong)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

Upon finishing Cathy Park Hong’s book of essays entitled Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning, I have to admit that I feel a bit conflicted.  As an Asian American woman who is close in age to Hong and also grew up in the Los Angeles area like she did, there were many experiences she described in her essays that were absolutely familiar to me – for example, struggling with identity and belonging, being discriminated against due to my race, feeling like I oftentimes have to explain my heritage to people due to preconceived biases stemming from ignorance – the list goes on and on.  Because of these shared experiences, I am able to understand wholeheartedly where Hong is coming from in her essays, even though culturally, we are from completely different backgrounds (Hong is Korean American, I’m Chinese American).   

Overall, I found Hong’s essay collection to be an insightful read and very different from a lot of what is typically written about identity and race, especially from an Asian American perspective.  The basic premise that binds all of Hong’s essays together is the concept of “minor feelings,” which Hong describes as “the racialized range of emotions that are negative, dysphoric, and therefore untelegenic, built from the sediments of everyday racial experience and the irritant of having one’s perception of reality constantly questioned or dismissed.”   In essence, it is the recognition that the negative emotions many Asian Americans (and other minority groups) have to deal with on a daily basis – feelings of shame, self-doubt, paranoia, suspicion, melancholy, etc.  – can be traced back to America’s history of imperialism and colonization of Asian nations, a history that resulted in the creation of an inherently racist capitalistic system that will constantly be in conflict with the reality of our racial identity.  Amongst other things, Hong writes about the “weight of indebtedness” that is a constant presence in her life as well as the lives of most immigrants regardless of background, with the context of this “indebtedness” correlating to a “gratitude” of sorts for being able to make a life for ourselves in this country.  All of Hong’s essays are infused with a raw honesty that is at the same time perceptive and intelligent, but also easy to grasp and understand. 

With all that said however, going back to why I felt conflicted after reading this book -- while there is definitely much truth to what Hong wrote and several aspects of it did actually resonate with me, there was also a large portion that I felt strayed too far from my own personal reality.  I’m not an activist and in fact, most of the time, I try to steer as clear away from politics as I possibly can.  I also don’t spend every waking moment of my life thinking about race, identity, and/or how I fit into this world as an Asian American – not because I don’t care or that I’m okay with being complacent about the racial circumstances in our society or whatnot – but rather, the practical realities of my life don’t afford me the “luxury” of constantly dwelling on identity politics and race.  Don’t get me wrong though – this doesn’t mean that if I see an injustice occurring, that I stand idly by instead of speaking up and fighting…if the circumstances warrant it, I will do what is necessary and also within my power to do.  But by the same token, it would also be “unjust” in my opinion to judge those who choose not to fight, who choose not to rock the boat, who choose the path of least resistant because they are content with living an ordinary, peaceful existence, even if it means being largely invisible and/or complacent from an identity perspective.  Forcing oneself to see everything through the lens of race and identity is exhausting and for me personally, that has never been how I want to go about my life.  At the end of the day, the most important thing, for me at least, is respecting each other’s viewpoints and choices, especially if they are different from our own. 

While my viewpoint may differ from Hong’s in many areas, I respect the fact that these essays reflect her personal thoughts and experiences and she doesn’t try to impose those onto us as readers.  I also appreciate Hong’s unflinching honesty as well as her willingness to so candidly voice her feelings.  Regardless, we definitely need more books like this one, where we get to hear different voices tell their stories – it takes a lot of courage to do so and that alone is already deserving of respect!  Definitely a recommended read, though of course with the understanding that this is Hong’s personal perspective as an Asian American living in the United States and by no means does it represent all Asian Americans.

Received ARC from One World (Random House) via NetGalley.