Map of Ireland is a slender and engaging (I read the whole thing on an intercity bus ride) work about a queer teenager who falls in adoration with her Black French teacher during the first year of busing, 1974, in South Boston. The French teacher is not what she seems to be, and the general confusion and animosity in their part of the city lead to events beyond what happens in the usual coming-of-age tale.
There is a lot of good writing here, including a strangely romantic and erotic encounter and some pointed and complex characterizations (especially of Ann's mother). But I was sorry about the ending. Ann proves that she can't (yet?) rise above the influence of her immediate community, even though her lesbianism has cast her out of its rough embrace. I was disappointed with the book itself after reading through Ann's final decisions and actions, but on reflection I think it was admirable of the author to choose a somewhat unusual perspective and denouement for her story. Ann at the end of the book is just as clueless about her role -- both symbolic and specific -- in a racially divided and changing society. Although she is herself from an insular ethnic community that inspires both fear and fascination, she can't comprehend why there might be a movement for Black separatism, much less why anyone would take part in struggles that have nothing to do with their own people. And while she's the center of her story, and, by extension, the reader's, she can't see that she's not actually the story here. As one character scolds her, "White people were always asking Black people to bear witness to their lives, to their humanity...[I]t was the oldest story in the universe, the oldest story in the whole swirling galaxy."
But I couldn't help imagining that this isn't the ultimate that Ann will be -- she's not even 18 and still has a whole life in front of her, and it's clear she will be on her own. The jacket copy makes a sentimental stab at having Ann "[embark] on a journey that leads her...to the truth about herself." If the publisher is right, it's a pretty depressing truth. Let's hope not.