A slight, slender volume, this collection of brief essays by Ms. Angelou is a quick and easy read.
It's casual, personal, and almost entirely unpretentious. She mocks herself, her foibles, her pride. She laughs about life. There's an essay about Oprah, just because she wrote it, it's her book, and Maya Angelou wants to tell you about Oprah. There's a vignette about her mom in the grocery line. There's serious talk about suffering, poverty, and the black experience. Whatever. It pretty much all works.
Her prose, flavored with the spice of her verse, is rich and earthy and effortless. It feels at times like you're sitting on a sofa in some salon, and there she is, holding forth on this topic or that topic. Were she a lesser raconteur, you'd be disinterested, but she sparkles and you listen.
Is there a theme to the book? No, not really. It's just, hey, here's some stuff Maya Angelou wrote, and that's just fine. Better than fine.