What I don’t know is Why I hadn’t read this book yet.
I won’t say much about it because it really is a self-contained work and you all should just read it. Instead of what I did, which was think I had read it because I certainly should have already read it, and it was familiar from academic discourse circles.
Parts were extremely difficult to read, and the most tragic parts were strongly felt because of the sense of inevitability that came along with them. As if they were simply threads woven into the timeline of a life, rather than acknowledged by others as being unmendable gashes in the fabric. The people and places were tied to the South and St. Louis, places which are strongly connected with my own sense of self. Consequently I felt with Maya the huge sense of loss that occurs when your hometown betrays you.
Even the horrifying parts were beautifully written…
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