I’ve long been fascinated with the Roma (or Gypsies, as Walsh more commonly refers to them), and was extremely excited to read this book --the only other Roma book I’ve read is Isabel Fonseca’s Bury Me Standing: the Gypsies and Their Journey, which focused largely on the Roma in Eastern Europe. Walsh, by contrast, grew up in England – and, unlike the grinding poverty throughout Fonseca’s book, Wash insists that Gypsies are not generally poor.
Reading this book, though, I thought of it less and less as a book about Gypsies and their culture than as a book about the heartbreaking childhood of one man. I’ve never known anyone who is Roma, but aspects of the Roma in his book reminded me of people I knew growing up in south Brooklyn: recovering (and not) drug addicts and alcoholics, scrappy kids, tough-as-nails people tenaciously proud of their background – even if they don’t quite have all the facts straight. (For example: while Granny Ivy talks about the Roma building the pyramids in Egypt, most people now believe the Roma originated in India). So to me, Walsh’s story felt less like a view into the Other – the Roma community – than a reflection of familiar aspects from other places, peoples, and cultures around the world.
His story is one of the saddest I’ve read since I reading a string of holocaust books last year. It’s not just sad – it’s also redemptive, as he is able to reconnect with his family after leaving the community – but the sheer volume of physical, verbal, mental, and sexual abuse he endures is almost too much to take, even as a reader. I can’t imagine what it was like to experience it first-hand.
While I know almost nothing about the Irish Travellers, his description of them is fairly brutal and, I think, betrays a remaining prejudice on his part. While many think that Gypsies are a dirty, violent, thieving, black-magic-dealing group looking to scheme their way through life, Walsh insists it isn’t true – but it is true of the Irish Travellers. Prejudices die hard, but one would think Walsh would think twice about such generalizations.
If you’re looking for a book on the Roma, I’d wholeheartedly recommend Isabel Fonseca’s Bury Me Standing, which provides both a historical overview of the Roma and a more personal view of the families that she lives with and gets to know. If you’re looking for a memoir, I’m not sure I’d recommend this one. I feel for the author’s abuses, and think it’s amazing how he remade his life after leaving the Roma community, but I left this book feeling sad rather than satisfied.