Becoming | moral, candid, aware

Review: 4 stars

I can’t think of a more anticipated read for 2018 than ‘Becoming’ by former First Lady, Michelle Obama. From the vestiges of the Obama presidency came an insistent movement of believers who yearned for a presidential run from “the better half” of the former First Couple. Like many others, I thought that this tell-all would lay the foundation for Michelle’s campaign for 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. What I encountered instead was far more intimate and independent than I expected.

‘Becoming’ is told in three parts - each an integral piece of the composition that Michelle is today - her childhood, her relationship with Barack, and finally her experience as First Lady. Throughout she seeks to distinguish herself from Barack, signalling that the values she stands for were entrenched long before her charismatic, nation-leading husband sauntered into her life. As an adolescent she bore witness to white flight from her neighbourhood, which.shuttered businesses and unbalanced schools. Her innate drive for overachievement was instilled into her by her mother. Her belief in “showing up” was nurtured through osmotic observance of her father, who went to work everyday despite his MS. The early chapters firmly establish Michelle as independent woman with strong ethics and true fortitude, forged with the anvil of Black America.

She also pulls back the curtain on what it felt like to be in the maelstrom of Barack’s candidacy and presidency itself. Suddenly, her identity as a successful lawyer, talented health care professional, and empowered mother, became recast as singularly as patriotic wife and mother. Her voice, which she so valued, became muted in fear of passion being translated as anger onto national television screens. Her role as advocate and ambassador for her husband overrode her personal ambitions. It is this narrative that I found the most compelling. Michelle portrays herself as “Everywoman” - navigating through the same inequalities in marriage and motherhood doubts that many of us succumb to.

Michelle writes with the full awareness of a seasoned public figure. She is aware of the legacy this book will create for herself. She is aware of how her opinions may reinforce or counter Barack’s oft-articulated platform. She is aware of what this book means for the status of womanhood, motherhood, African Americans, democracy and the peaceful transition of power. Her biography is hopeful, urgent and a graceful commemoration of the first Black First Family. One of the most astounding revelations of the novel for me were when she describes paying for the initial White House redirection personally vs. using taxpayer money. She asserts that because of their blackness, she and her family have to do more and do better, just to be perceived as equal by society.

The parts of the book I appreciated the least were when she reinforced her own platform as a First Lady (Let’s Move, White House garden). Oddly, it felt inauthentic and forced, a tone very at odds with the rest of her intimate narrative. Despite this, I came away from ‘Becoming’ with an even greater appreciation for Michelle as a person. Her ability to connect through story is powerful and inclusive. This is not her launching point for political career (as she clearly affirms), but her ambition, empathy and talent are too great for her to fade into the annals of First Ladies past.

Washington Black | outlandish, questioning, expansive

Review: 4 stars

I always feel inspired by Indigo’s slogan - “The World Needs More Canada”. With that in mind, I picked up a copy of Esi Edugyan’s multi-award winning novel, ‘Washington Black’ to see if the hype around this Canadian author was deserved.

The novel opens on the Faith Sugar Plantation in Barbados, where our young, eleven-year-old protagonist, Washington Black, is a slave at the mercy of a cruel, new master. The adventure begins when Black is taken from the fields to serve as an assistant to Titch, the master’s brother. The two quickly defy the odds, developing a friendship founded upon scientific curiosity and mutual respect. Edugyan masterfully builds up the tenuous warmth of the bond, as Titch tends to Black’s wounds after an accident, praises Black for his artistic brilliance and saves Black from fatal punishment after an unexpected death occurs.

The pair escape Faith in a “Cloud-Cutter”, and as they wander further and further (Nova Scotia, Canadian Arctic), instead of relishing freedom, they become enslaved to their fear of recapture. The investment that Edugyan has made in the familial relationship between Titch and Black is ripped away without notice. Black is stranded, bereft of the sense of identity and worth that Titch had bestowed upon him. The remainder of the novel unravels through twists and turns, enriched by romance, tormented by the fear of being hunted, and encircled in unanswerable questions.

Edugyan’s central theme revolves around what it means to be free. Big Kit, Black’s closet caregiver on the plantation, asserts that freedom is “to [go] wherever it is you wanting”. Clearly, Black was beholden to the chains of slavery on the plantation, his very breath extinguishable on the whim of Master Erasmus. However, even after he escapes, Black is not truly liberated. He is monetarily and emotionally dependent on Titch, unable to imagine an independent path for himself. He has freedom from abuse, forced labour, brutality, but not freedom itself. After Titch’s disappearance, Black remains imprisoned in his own anxieties, as Willard, a brutish bounty hunter, draws nearer and nearer. In the final chapters, Black continues to be tethered to Titch, unable to extricate himself from perennial questions of “Why” and “How could you” as he scours the globe for his elusive friend. It is only in his final act of the novel that Black releases himself from all bondage, and goes where he is wanting, to the incredulity of the reader.

I thoroughly enjoyed this novel for its complexity, inventiveness and ability to approach the oft-visited theme of freedom across so many dimensions. Edugyan’s writing is meticulous in its fidelity to the novel’s temporal and geographic settings. Washington Black as a narrator is completely believable, and engenders deep reader sympathy as well. I would definitely recommend this book, and look forward to reading ‘Half Blood Blues’ - Edugyan’s prior work.

Sing, Unburied, Sing | timely, tragic, soulful

Review: 3 stars

'Sing, Unburied, Sing' was the first pick of the 'Now Read This' bookclub. It has also been awarded the National Book Award and appeared in a number of Top 10 Books of 2017 lists. Needless to say, it's been on my to-read list for quite awhile, and I dove into it during a family vacation to Santa Cruz. 

The novel is a railroad track with two parallel stories - one involving teenage Jojo, his toddler sister Kayla and a road trip with his mother Leonie to retrieve their father Michael from Parchman penitentiary; the other follows River, Jojo's Pop, and his time own time at Parchman decades earlier. Throughout, these parallel tracks cross, as spirits from the past - Richie, Pop's fellow inmate, and Given, Leonie's deceased brother - assert themselves on the protagonists' reality, insistent on their own agendas. 

Ward's writing modulates easily to craft each narrator's unique voice. It is effortless to empathize with Jojo in his role as Kayla's protector from a seemingly deadbeat, drugged-up mother. Similarly, I can easily meld myself into Leonie's conscience, urging her to love her children right, to be more than what circumstances have defined her to be. Ward effectively puts forward her thesis - that the restless souls of so many wronged black men and women are actively invading our present consciousness, influencing the actions of their ancestors generations later. The corpses are buried but their stories of injustice linger, demanding witness and reparation. Each character in the novel perceives these spirits to different extents, but not one is immune to the consequences of these African American lives. This is most poignant during the scene when Jojo and his family are pulled over by a cop, and Jojo, an unarmed black teenager, stares down the barrel of the officer's pistol for no good reason at all. It is a nightmarish history repeating itself again, different scenery, different weapon, same tragedy. 

Ward's novel is creative, unflinching and timely given our social struggle with ongoing racism and police brutality, particularly in the U.S. While I felt her novel was highly successful, for some reason, the story was less resonant with me. Perhaps I am not the right reader, in the wrong country. While my opinion and rating of the novel may be debatable, I do feel however that it is an important contribution to the prevailing discussion on racism.