All the Fishes Come Home to Roost, by Rachel Manija Brown
Rachel Manija Brown being,
rachelmanija.
339 pages (hardcover)
Genre: Nonfiction/Memoir
Since I read Rachel Manija Brown on LJ, I felt kind of guilty about not having read her book. I don't often read (or enjoy) memoir, but this and Infidel both came highly recommended, and I haven't regretted either. I admire Rachel for her ability to infuse humor in such a tragic story, even as she writes about dark moments like contemplating suicide. I can sympathize with her life, too; even as I think fondly on my childhood in Newfoundland, I remember the teasing too, and the alienation of bookish intelligence at an early age.
In literary terms, Rachel's storytelling is superb. With so many bizarre and crazy characters, it can be hard to differentiate them for the casual reader. Prose is deeply descriptive but never multicolored--take this quote, from a page opened at random. "Our new suite had a picture window overlooking a waterfall tumbling into an elfin glen." [139] The image painted in the reader's head is sublime and original, but the line also conveys Rachel-the-protagonist's character. Not many children would plausibly describe a hotel view thus; for a girl who read about Helen Keller in kindergarten, the characterization is perfect.
On top of all that, the cover is gorgeous--a stark, empty bird's nest symbolizes Rachel's childhood and alludes to the title, a backdrop reminiscent of a sunset, a gold border sandwhiched between orange cover and moss green spine making me think inexplicably of India. My only complaint is that the jacket copy hints to a hilarious story and downplays the deep, heartbreaking poignancy of "an American mistfit in India." The rest of us may not have had such weird life experiences, but we can all understand the longing to belong.
rachelmanija.
339 pages (hardcover)
Genre: Nonfiction/Memoir
Since I read Rachel Manija Brown on LJ, I felt kind of guilty about not having read her book. I don't often read (or enjoy) memoir, but this and Infidel both came highly recommended, and I haven't regretted either. I admire Rachel for her ability to infuse humor in such a tragic story, even as she writes about dark moments like contemplating suicide. I can sympathize with her life, too; even as I think fondly on my childhood in Newfoundland, I remember the teasing too, and the alienation of bookish intelligence at an early age.
In literary terms, Rachel's storytelling is superb. With so many bizarre and crazy characters, it can be hard to differentiate them for the casual reader. Prose is deeply descriptive but never multicolored--take this quote, from a page opened at random. "Our new suite had a picture window overlooking a waterfall tumbling into an elfin glen." [139] The image painted in the reader's head is sublime and original, but the line also conveys Rachel-the-protagonist's character. Not many children would plausibly describe a hotel view thus; for a girl who read about Helen Keller in kindergarten, the characterization is perfect.
On top of all that, the cover is gorgeous--a stark, empty bird's nest symbolizes Rachel's childhood and alludes to the title, a backdrop reminiscent of a sunset, a gold border sandwhiched between orange cover and moss green spine making me think inexplicably of India. My only complaint is that the jacket copy hints to a hilarious story and downplays the deep, heartbreaking poignancy of "an American mistfit in India." The rest of us may not have had such weird life experiences, but we can all understand the longing to belong.