Book Review: BREATH, EYES, MEMORY

Back on Valentine’s Day, Jessica Faust at BookEnds hosted a Blind Book Date on the BookEnds blog. She invited her readers to give the title and author of a book they love in the comments. The person ahead of you in the comments would then have to read the book you named, and you would have to read the book named by the person after you. Jessica would read the book named by the first person, and she gave the name of a book for the last person to read. This sounded like a fun way to find something potentially outside my normal tastes to read, so I participated. The book title I was given was BREATH, EYES, MEMORY by Edwidge Danticat. I’d never heard of the book, but I ordered it and read it. Jessica will be posting questions for us to answer today, but I wanted to go ahead and give a proper review of the book. So, here it is.

BREATH, EYES, MEMORY tells the story of Sophie Caco, a girl born and raised in Haiti by her aunt. At age twelve, her mother, now living in New York, sends for her. She moves to be with her mother, and discovers some shocking truths about her past and the life her mother and aunt lead. Sophie returns to Haiti as an adult where she hopes to find healing from the scars of that past.

This is not a book I would have picked to read, and I say that with a large dose of self-reproach, because I ought to read books like this every so often. It’s not a happy book, or a comfortable one, but it is very well-written, and it exposes the reader to a culture and atmosphere which, if you’re not Haitian, is eye-opening. We’ve seen a lot about Haiti in the media since the earthquake of a few years ago, but this book helps us to see Haiti through the eyes of the people for whom it is home.

Without giving too much away, the story of Sophie and her relatives is one of, shall we say, well-intentioned abuse, and cultural traditions that instilled fears and expectations that have devastating effects later in life. In a work like this, which is meant to be a novel and not a social critique, you have to be careful to respect cultures that are alien, but without whitewashing practices that are abhorrent, and yet not mocking those things that are just simply different. I think Danticat managed that very well. She doesn’t pull punches talking about the harsh stuff, but you get a real sense of Haitian culture through the eyes of those that live it.

As a native Haitian, Danticat has first-hand experience of Haitian life, and she evokes the dust, atmosphere, smells, and speech of the people. Danticat demonstrates a keen ear for voice in this novel. The story is a first-person narrative, but Sophie’s voice is clearly more sophisticated than her Haitian relatives, which one would expect given her American education. But there is still that lilt to her speech that sets it apart from the non-Haitains in the story (there’s at least one). There are occasional Creole and French phrases in the book, but they are either explained or easily understood in context. When we are to understand characters are speaking Creole, the dialog is almost entirely in English. However the turns of phrase and sentence structures are not those of native English speakers, giving the impression of non-English speech.

Two of Strunk and White’s most famous rules are “Use Concrete Language” and “Omit Needless Words.” This book embodies and exemplifies these principles. The language is very direct, but not harsh. She discusses difficult subjects with sensitivity, and in language that most people even on the younger end of YA could understand. There’s no fluff, no 8-syllable words and 50-word sentences. Yet she is able to show the contrast between rural and city life, give you a taste of the food, and show the traditions and superstitions that are the hallmark of Haitian life.

There’s not really a lot of romance in the novel, but there is a nice little scene I want to share with you between Sophie and her neighbor in New York. He’s originally from Louisiana, and clearly has a thing for Sophie:

One afternoon, he came by with a ham-and-cheese sandwich to thank me for letting him use the phone. He sat across from me in the living room while I ate very slowly.
“What are you going to study in college?” he asked.
“I think I am going to be a doctor.”
“You think? Is that something you like?”
“I suppose so,” I said.
“You have to have a passion for what you do.”
“My mother says it’s important for us to have a doctor in the family.”
“What if you don’t want to be a doctor?”
“There’s a difference between what a person wants and what’s good for them.”
“You sound like you are quoting someone,” he said.
“My mother.”
“What would Sophie like to do?” he asked.
That was the problem. Sophie really wasn’t sure. I had never really dared to dream on my own.
“You’re not sure, are you?”
He even understood my silences.
“It is okay not to have your future on a map,” he said. “That way you can flow wherever life takes you.”
“That is not Haitian,” I said. “That’s very American.”
“What is?”
“Being a wanderer. The very idea.”
“I am not American,” he said. “I am African-American.”
“What is the difference?”
“The African. It means that you and I, we are already part of each other.”
I think I blushed. At least I nearly choked on my sandwich. He walked over and tapped my back.
“Are you alright?”
“I am fine,” I said, still short of breath.
“I think you re a fine woman,” he said.
I started choking again.

This book gets my hearty recommendation. It’s not strictly YA, and while I think the language is suitable for most within the range of YA, some of the subject matter is probably better suited to a more mature reader–probably older YA and up. I think the novel is actually classified as women’s fiction. If that’s true, this is certainly a case where shelf classification is not helpful. I wouldn’t usually wander over to the “women’s fiction” section in B&N to look for a book, but this is a novel I enjoyed and learned from.