A profoundly moving childhood memoir by a noted poet, essayist, teacher, and journalist. "SHORTA not uncommon story is here captured with astonishing beauty" the childhood of a gifted daughter whose immigrant parents must struggle in order to provide her with the educational and social opportunities not available to them or, for that matter, to most blacks of her generation. In vivid prose that re-creates the heady impressions of youth, June Jordan takes us to the Harlem and Brooklyn neighborhoods where she lived and out into the larger landscape of her burgeoning imagination. Exploring the nature of memory, writing, and familial as well as social responsibility, Jordan re-creates the world in which her identity as a social and artistic revolutionary was forged.
June Millicent Jordan (July 9, 1936 – June 14, 2002) was a Caribbean-American poet and activist.
Jordan received numerous honors and awards, including a 1969-70 Rockefeller grant for creative writing, a Yaddo Fellowship in 1979, a National Endowment for the Arts fellowship in 1982, and the Achievement Award for International Reporting from the National Association of Black Journalists in 1984. Jordan also won the Lila Wallace Reader's Digest Writers Award from 1995 to 1998 as well as the Ground Breakers-Dream Makers Award from The Woman's Foundation in 1994.
She was included in Who's Who in America from 1984 until her death. She received the Chancellor's Distinguished Lectureship from UC Berkeley and the PEN Center USA West Freedom to Write Award (1991).
Beautifully intimate, joyful, & heart rending reflection and retelling of the early years of a brilliant poet, activist, and teacher. "Poetry is a political act because it involves telling the truth. To tell the truth is to become beautiful, to begin to love yourself, value yourself. And that's political, in its most profound way. In the process of telling the truth about what you feel or what you see, each of us has to get in touch with himself or herself in a really deep, serious way."
June Jordan’s Soldier: A Poet’s Childhood certainly has the subject matter for an enthralling tale. The daughter of Jamaican immigrants, Jordan (1936-2002) learned to love literature from her loving and abusive father. She grew up in New York at a time when her life experience covered some dramatic changes in the lives of African- and Caribbean Americans. The book was “A Best Book of 2000″ by both the Los Angeles Times and the Washington Post.
The details of her memories are those of a poet, and therefore rich and evocative. Her story is personal and specific, but also important as an addition to the voices of People of Color in this country.
But the book has no real sense of being a memoir. The very difficult work of memoir is forging all those bits of one’s life into a compelling narrative. Instead, Jordan catches them like butterflies in a net and lets them flit off each other from one fragment to the next. While I found her life fascinating, I had to struggle to keep the momentum because there was no urgency or tension or cohesion to the story. Maybe that is an overstatement. At least, there wasn’t enough of those elements to satisfy this reader.
I did learn from reading this book. It showed me just how much I want to create a thickly textured and urgent story in my own memoir.
The book would be a wonderful source of material for a biographer of Jordan–or for a literary critic who is writing about the poet. But for an engaging nonfiction read, I would choose a different book.
I read this memoir in one big gulp, one long breath. It is told in short, punchy vignettes that span mostly over a couple of years in the childhood of the poet, essayist and activist, June Jordan. While the prose isn't always beautiful, I don't think it is the point. In the fact, the narrative seems to move somewhere between line and sentence, stanza and paragraph. Near the end of the memoir, there is definitely the beginnings of Jordan's poetic consciousness.
What I find most startling is how well Jordan, who wrote this in the final years of her life, captures the voice of a child. Becoming a new parent myself this year, I'm especially moved by her rendering of her interactions with her parents--relationships that make up the bulk of the memoir. While her parents are not perfect (and she knows it), they leave a lasting impression that isn't altogether good (or altogether bad). In fact, she ultimately claims that children are not the sole "products" or "creations" of their parents. Rather children are agents of their own identity--while certainly shaped by the world around them but not completely. June becomes a warrior poet not (at least not solely) through the efforts of her parents but through the interactions she has herself with the world around her.
Fascinating book. And it leaves me humbled by my experience as a papa--and so grateful for the opportunity to help my son interact with the world.
Had to read this for college class at UC Berkeley. I didn’t care for it at first, but the more I read, the more I couldn’t stop reading. The reason why I couldn’t pull away was because I felt bonded to Jordan (as she will make you feel bonded to her) as you read through the vivid and brief scenes of very intimate scenes, whether that’s violence or warmth or weird awkward moments. This book is so RICH, INTIMATE, and full. All of the pain and pleasure and shame and pride and guilt from different life experiences- it’s so richly captured.
And Jordan really captures the childlike innocence and quick-witted intelligence (basically the childlike/adolescent lens) that adolescents use to view the world. I thought it would be cheesy or annoying to read through the eyes of a child, but the writer did a phenomenal job. Also, there’s a lot going on with gender and how Jordan was raised as a boy and a girl at the same time, and how confusing that was.
adored this — will definitely keep coming back to it, I think. such an enthralling peek into childhood and specifically her childhood, and the ways in which her parents affected her. i would laugh out loud one page and cry the next. the love of a child versus the love of her parents and how those things can clash!! something I’ve always found wrought w a multitude of emotions. she was her dad’s “Little Soldier” and how many of us daughters of fathers can relate to that!! especially immigrant fathers/parents
also, in general — loved the way she also wrote from her littlest self as an infant and beyond. so precious and important to embody and remember a child’s perspective — it’s their first time in the world and their every thought and perception is so innocent and special, then eventually colored by one million other pressures…
The best part of the book is that Jordan captures the excitement of a young child, over ordinary things that are new to her. It made me remember when I was 7 years old and the bookmobile came to our neighborhood every two weeks during the summer. I was so excited to be able to go by myself and I still remember every detail of that bookmobile. This book only covers up to age 9, after which Jordan apparently went to boarding school.
Structurally, I found this memoir fascinating. Poetic line breaks, lone sentences flanked by white space, clause-length lines clipped and swirling amid paragraphs of prose...all the stops that you'd expect of a poet writing prose.
i had to read this book for my English methods class, and i'm still not sure why it's relevant. i didn't really enjoy this book at all. apparently she wrote it when she was very old and well-acclaimed, and my guess is that the editors just didn't want to tell her, "No." the language isn't particularly beautiful, and her observations aren't very profound. it's really just an old woman rambling about her awful childhood and how her father abused her, how her mother stood by and watched, and then it ends. needless to say, i was relieved.
I tore through this in three hours, a single sitting, with a to-do list a mile long. I physically could not put it down. As poignant as it is evocative.
Soldier: A Poet’s Childhood by June Jordan is an amazing book. I’ve known her poetry for years, but this autobiography of her early years is a surprise. Born in 1936, June is the child of West Indian immigrants, who initially lived in Harlem and then moved to Brooklyn. Her book is filled with issues of internalized oppression, violence, and household tensions. Her father wanted a son, so June, the only child of this marriage, was in many ways raised as a son. Her father had her ready for combat, but it also meant many beating and surprises as she got up in the morning and faced confrontations.
I’ll never understand the marriage, her mother a nurse was quiet in the relationship, but did have many special moments with her daughter. Yet, the father, who ruled the household, including the moved to Brooklyn where they bought a home that needed much repair to be livable. A cousin, Valerie was part of the household, she was the daughter of June’s mother’s sister, who was born out of wedlock. These patterns of taking in family member was common in the Black community—southerners as well as West Indians.
While the family dynamics are hard to absorb, the language is amazing. You can see the poetry, even as she had to cope with the high expectations of her father. He had to teach himself to read, but insisted that she read and do well in school. He wanted her on a path to success, both in terms of fighting to protect herself and also the intellectual preparation for the challenges of moving in a majority White world.
June has a tight family, but connecting requires crossing distances with public transportation. Her grandmother was special, including giving her what her own parents denied—a gun. Her father who valued real estate, do not see the value in private transportation. Yet, he does construct a world of challenges for her that brings her into the White world, including summer camp and schools. She has her own programs, like valuing the environment and collecting bottles for the pocket money her parents will not give her. Eventually she discovers herself as a poet, wining a contest in a school where she did not feel appreciated. It is hard to get behind the violence and real loneliness of this young woman who had to make her own way.
Only read this because it was for a book club. Had never heard of her. I do enjoy memoirs so wasn't concerned that I wasn't a fan. However, just judging it as a memoir, it is not good. It's a series of vignettes about her childhood. Not much insight into the scenes. She doesn't discuss how her abusive childhood affects her current life. There is no context. And the scenes themselves are not that vividly drawn or interesting.
I recently read the memoirs of Sidney Poitier and of Cicely Tyson who were also raised in NYC by West Indian parents. Their memoirs are far superior to this one. This read like a rough draft.
The only good thing about reading this was that it was a quick read with short sentences and lots of white space on the pages.
Interestingly written. I liked that it was written in parts that had little vignettes but not chapters.
Some of the parts were really beautifully written. Actually everything was really beautifully written but I really liked some parts more than others.
I am amazed about how much detail she has to describe things that happened to her when she was so young.
Sometimes I got frustrated because I felt like I was supposed to see the connections between the vignettes and I couldn’t sometimes. The book also is sort of in chronological order but also not.
Everything about this little girl’s life was a lesson. I felt I was her and I felt the disappointment she felt. I find it interesting that she would internally interact with her dad, but never felt fully safe speaking up. The book was pleasant but the story didn’t feel like it moved forward. I enjoyed her writing style but I needed something more. That being said, I would still recommend this book. I felt touched.
Beautifully intimate, heart rending reflection and retelling of the early years of a brilliant poet, activist, and teacher. "Poetry is a political act because it involves telling the truth. To tell the truth is to become beautiful, to begin to love yourself, value yourself. And that's political, in its most profound way. In the process of telling the truth about what you feel or what you see, each of us has to get in touch with himself or herself in a really deep, serious way."
I love June Jordan. This was a beautiful collection of lyrical vignettes of a childhood told through an entire life of experience. A study of how relational a life of identity truly is. Would I rather read her poetry and essays and letters? Prob. But getting this memoir-esque glimpse into such an incredible mind is wonderful too.
current thoughts are lyrical memoirs about the childhood of a brilliant spirit. I'm surprised by the details of what she remembers. I also loved how she juxtaposed her suffering with her laughter and giggles.