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Minor Feelings

4/5. Collection of essays by an Asian-American poet. I picked this up because one of my favorite podcasts, Still Processing, was reading it. Slim and powerful, full of wonderfully concise insight, such as the discussion of identity politics in creative work in which she explained how she found that racial identity had been reduced to a kind of intellectual property. That is so perfect an explanation of the squirmingly . . . checkbox way the #ownvoices mission has been taken up by publishers that I set multiple bookmarks in my audiobook for emphasis.

Parts of this book are hard to read if you, like me, are the frequent target of microaggressions. I found myself having big physiological stress responses to parts of this book as she recounts her experiences. Though the most valuable part was when she challenged me on how I just framed that. I have always thought about it that way, more or less -- oh, I find this memoir/essay depicting racial injustice stressful because it triggers me to think of the microaggressions of ableist violence I have experienced -- even when I didn't realize that's what I was thinking. She challenged me on that framing, and what even more uncomfortable things are underneath that story I was telling myself, and I'm grateful for the extra discomfort. Also, this book is really angry, and I love an angry book.

Recommended, along with the Still Processing episode.
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Hood Feminism

4/5. Book of short essays critiquing mainstream (white) feminism for, at a basic level, prioritizing goals intended to increase privilege over goals intended to foster survival. Which is a really good way of describing why intersectionality matters. Or, in other words, why hunger is a feminist issue. Burningly angry, spare, and effective, and read by the author to not terrible results for the audiobook, imagine that.

Content notes: Violence, pregnancy loss, racism.
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Ghettoside

3/5. Recounting of the murder of a young black man in L.A., the investigation, the arrest, the trial, with many diversions for all the lives touched and changed.

Good as the story of a crime and its impact on a family and community. Less good as an argument: she wants this book to stand for the proposition that black on black gang-related crime is desperately under-policed, while police attention is placed ruinously and oppressively on other things. Which, okay, you can make that argument, but using the murder of the son of a homicide police officer and the extraordinary efforts made to solve it is a pretty odd choice. Also, I'm sure this book did itself no favors by being published in the years when the abolish the police movement was gathering itself together; this book has no truck with that, to put it mildly. Which, again, okay, make your arguments, but for real, if one of your arguments is to literally say it's a good thing for the state to have a monopoly on violence . . . well. That's not just out-of-step, that's a whole different drummer. And the shape of this book can't really back that up since it's busy with this very particular crime.

It is good at what it's doing – portraits of young black men and the people who love them as they kill each other, and more broadly an invocation of the weight of loss and grief that crushes a community in the grips of high homicide rates. It's awful. This book is good at invoking that. But turning that into any sort of argument or prescription? No.

Also, I find it inherently untrustworthy that she erases herself from this narrative, though she was present for many of the events or interviewed those who were. The only references she makes to herself are a few coy "this author" type phrases at the very end. This particular technique always drives me nuts. You can't ride along for a police investigation and then tell the story as if you were never there, as if your presence didn't change things, as if you never spoke or made a face or, say, changed the gender balance in a room (which she totally would have, there are no lady cops here). I get this is a reportorial style but yeah no, I do not like it and I do not trust it.
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Between the World and Me

5/5. Part autobiography, part cultural essay, part history, part intimate family letter.

I am not going to do this justice today (I am sick. Again. Again). So straight out, this is the most extraordinary book I've read in a while. It is a letter to his son, and walks that line of intimacy while also acknowledging the performativity of, you know, being a published book. It is a memoir of coming to intellectual and racial consciousness, and a study of white-on-black violence, and a distillation of several years of his thinking, as will be familiar to his regular readers. I read this very purposefully not trying to analogize it. Like a lot of people, my experience of other kinds of oppression has made it easier to start getting my head around racial oppression, but that only gets you so far and at a certain point, you've got to stop drawing lines and start confronting the thing as it is. I passed that point a while ago, though I didn't realize it in a timely fashion.

So I deliberately read this while working to read it as just itself: a book about race. A book, very specifically, about the violence in racism, the purposeful and systematic destruction of black bodies.* Which worked until it didn't, until about three quarters of the way through when he told a story of responding with sudden, unexpected rage to a white woman's microaggression. And it was just – that moment when you get so angry, and you know, you know your anger will do nothing, that the people around you will do anything to not hear you, and you know your anger is actually counterproductive because of that, because they have made it counterproductive for you to be anything other than silent and accepting, and that just makes you madder, and you are just a tiny cog in the bigger machine that is eating people, this microaggression is one of millions and it doesn't fucking matter, except it's also everything.

Yeah, I don't know, I couldn't just read this book as about race then. Which is a disservice to it. But also why it is so good.

Anyway. Yeah. Read it.

P.s. The audiobook is read by the author, and in my opinion, that adds a great deal to the text.

*There is an argument to be made that racism – the program of destruction of the black body (by police, prisons, poverty) – can be analogized to ablism – the program of destruction of the disabled body (by doctors, institutionalization, and poverty). Go find a news article about a parent killing their disabled child. Go on, they're very easy to find. It happens all the time. Go see if the parent got convicted of murder, let alone even charged. Go read the justifications. Take the temperature of the article. Come away with that sense, unspoken but clear, that it wasn't really murder, that you can kind of understand, how much pressure that parent must have been under, how awful for everyone. Go on, I'll wait. Thus are lives discounted. So yeah, the analogy can be made, and has been I'm sure, by better scholars than I. But I'm realizing more and more that it's of limited help. Violence may be violence, but context is not context is not context.

...

And there's the last book by a man I'll be reading for a year. Hell of a way to go out, too.

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