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Radical Hope: Letters of Love and Dissent in Dangerous Times
Radical Hope is a collection of letters—to ancestors, to children five generations from now, to strangers in grocery lines, to any and all who feel weary and discouraged--written by award-winning novelists, poets, political thinkers, and activists. Provocative and inspiring, Radical Hope offers readers a kaleidoscopic view of the love and courage needed to navigate this time of upheaval, uncertainty, and fear, in view of the recent US presidential election.
272 pages, Paperback
First published May 2, 2017
244 people are currently reading
7190 people want to read
About the author
Carolina De Robertis
19 books748 followersCarolina De Robertis is the author of Perla and The Invisible Mountain, which was an international bestseller translated into fifteen languages, the recipient of Italy’s Rhegium Julii Prize, and a Best Book of 2009 according to the San Francisco Chronicle, O, The Oprah Magazine, and BookList. She is the translator of Alejandro Zambra’s Bonsai, which was just made into a feature film, and Roberto Ampuero’s internationally bestselling The Neruda Case. De Robertis has been awarded a 2012 fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts.
De Robertis grew up in a Uruguayan family that immigrated to England, Switzerland, and California. Prior to completing her first book, she worked in women’s rights organizations for ten years, on issues ranging from rape to immigration. She lives in Oakland, California, where she is currently elbow-deep in writing her third novel, which explores migration, sexual frontiers, and the tango’s Old Guard in early twentieth century South America.
De Robertis grew up in a Uruguayan family that immigrated to England, Switzerland, and California. Prior to completing her first book, she worked in women’s rights organizations for ten years, on issues ranging from rape to immigration. She lives in Oakland, California, where she is currently elbow-deep in writing her third novel, which explores migration, sexual frontiers, and the tango’s Old Guard in early twentieth century South America.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 229 reviews
May 11, 2017
Like many, author Carolina de Robertis was overcome with fear, a new President had been elected. Worried about the civil rights of many, people of color, different sexual orientation , different religions, she put in a call for action. She reached out to fellow writers, asking for love letters, letters written for what she believes will be a turbulent time. Some of our most well known authors and some I wasn't familiar with did what they do best, put pen to paper. Most of these letters are simply amazing.
Some are written to their child, some to the reading public, ancestors or children not yet born, some to famous boundary breakers of the past. They come from different backgrounds, they or their ancestors came from different countries, Syria, China, Vietnam, Mexico, Egypt. They are black, Hispanic, Middle Eastern, Asian, we hear the words from many, the world over. Some of the most known are Lisa See, Jane Smiley, Junot Diaz, Karen Joy Fowler, Claire Massud and Celestica Ng. They are full of fear, hope, love and anger, Karen Joy Fowler's was the most angry but does end of a note of hope. My favorite was by Viet Thanh Nguyen, the author of the Sympathizer and the Refugees.
A wonderful collection that expresses many of things so many of us feel in a very personal and real way. Very intersting, informative and welll done.
ARC from publisher.
Some are written to their child, some to the reading public, ancestors or children not yet born, some to famous boundary breakers of the past. They come from different backgrounds, they or their ancestors came from different countries, Syria, China, Vietnam, Mexico, Egypt. They are black, Hispanic, Middle Eastern, Asian, we hear the words from many, the world over. Some of the most known are Lisa See, Jane Smiley, Junot Diaz, Karen Joy Fowler, Claire Massud and Celestica Ng. They are full of fear, hope, love and anger, Karen Joy Fowler's was the most angry but does end of a note of hope. My favorite was by Viet Thanh Nguyen, the author of the Sympathizer and the Refugees.
A wonderful collection that expresses many of things so many of us feel in a very personal and real way. Very intersting, informative and welll done.
ARC from publisher.
July 3, 2018
This book is amazing. I learned a lot. And many of the letters pointed me in the direction of other books, both by the letter-writers, and people they quoted. I HIGHLY recommend this!!
April 23, 2017
I was attracted to Radical Hope: Letters of Love and Dissent in Dangerous Times because of the outstanding contributors, including Junot Díaz, Lisa See, Viet Thanh Nguyen, Jane Smiley, and Celeste Ng. A firm believer that writers are the key to maintaining society's highest aspirations, I hoped to find inspiration and affirmation in these pages.
The letters are written to leaders of the past, to real and and to imagined future children, to strangers and to the known. Each contributor speaks of their personal journey and agony. They share a fear of our government's agenda that threatens hard-won rights and protections.
The letters are divided into three sections: Roots, which "explores the histories that bring us to this moment," and Branches, considering present day people and communities, and Seeds, considering the future who will inherit the system and world we will leave behind.
Frankly, many of these letters were hard to read, confronting us with the pain and misery inflicted upon people because of their color, sexual orientation, or ethnicity. I could only read an essay or two a day. Yet there is also in these letters a strength, a commitment, a vision of hope.
The message, says Katie Kitamura, is that this is not a time for complacency, and yet we must be open and not mired in certitude, to think and not be compelled to "ideological haste."
"Beware easy answers," warns Boris Fishman, "Lets get out of our comfort zones...let's lose our certainty--perhaps our arrogance."
"Be kind, be curious, be helpful...stay open," Celeste Ng writes to her child.
"Please promise me that you will, insoar as any person can, set your fear aside and devote yourself to a full, honest life. That, my child, is the first and most important act of resistance any of us can undertake," advises Meredith Russo to her child.
The struggle for human rights is ongoing, continual. We have seen the backlash against hard gained protections and equality. The battle continues.
I received a free ebook from the publisher through NetGalley in exchange for a fair and unbiased review.
The letters are written to leaders of the past, to real and and to imagined future children, to strangers and to the known. Each contributor speaks of their personal journey and agony. They share a fear of our government's agenda that threatens hard-won rights and protections.
The letters are divided into three sections: Roots, which "explores the histories that bring us to this moment," and Branches, considering present day people and communities, and Seeds, considering the future who will inherit the system and world we will leave behind.
Frankly, many of these letters were hard to read, confronting us with the pain and misery inflicted upon people because of their color, sexual orientation, or ethnicity. I could only read an essay or two a day. Yet there is also in these letters a strength, a commitment, a vision of hope.
The message, says Katie Kitamura, is that this is not a time for complacency, and yet we must be open and not mired in certitude, to think and not be compelled to "ideological haste."
"Beware easy answers," warns Boris Fishman, "Lets get out of our comfort zones...let's lose our certainty--perhaps our arrogance."
"Be kind, be curious, be helpful...stay open," Celeste Ng writes to her child.
"Please promise me that you will, insoar as any person can, set your fear aside and devote yourself to a full, honest life. That, my child, is the first and most important act of resistance any of us can undertake," advises Meredith Russo to her child.
The struggle for human rights is ongoing, continual. We have seen the backlash against hard gained protections and equality. The battle continues.
I received a free ebook from the publisher through NetGalley in exchange for a fair and unbiased review.
May 14, 2017
These letters are written in the months directly after Trump's election. Some are to historical figures, some are to future beings (grandchildren who are babies, etc.) They help each writer specify their beliefs in the context of the person they are addressing.
Something about the letter format with this directive, however, comes across to me as overly didactic. I may just be weary of protests while the political climate grows increasingly harmful. I also doubt anyone outside of the radical left would ever feel compelled to read a book marketed in this way, and in that sense they are preachy in two ways - preachy in tone and preaching to the choir.
I can't really fault them for the impulse. But solidifying our own beliefs and urging people we already have in our circles to do the same is easy. Preaching is easy, young man, changing is harder.
For the intended audience, these letters will likely be a balm and a boost. And for the literary crowds, seeing names like Viet Thanh Nguyen, Celeste Ng, Hari Kunzru, Karen Joy Fowler, Junot Diaz, etc., is a likely draw.
Thanks to the publisher for approving my request in both Edelweiss and NetGalley; clearly my impulse to read them was strong as I asked twice! The book officially came out May 2.
Something about the letter format with this directive, however, comes across to me as overly didactic. I may just be weary of protests while the political climate grows increasingly harmful. I also doubt anyone outside of the radical left would ever feel compelled to read a book marketed in this way, and in that sense they are preachy in two ways - preachy in tone and preaching to the choir.
I can't really fault them for the impulse. But solidifying our own beliefs and urging people we already have in our circles to do the same is easy. Preaching is easy, young man, changing is harder.
For the intended audience, these letters will likely be a balm and a boost. And for the literary crowds, seeing names like Viet Thanh Nguyen, Celeste Ng, Hari Kunzru, Karen Joy Fowler, Junot Diaz, etc., is a likely draw.
Thanks to the publisher for approving my request in both Edelweiss and NetGalley; clearly my impulse to read them was strong as I asked twice! The book officially came out May 2.
July 8, 2018
Im only about halfway done, and I REALLY wish I could appreciate this but its just so repetitive....
maybe something will wow me and I'll change my mind when I'm done. Maybe I'm just in a horrible mood. I know I should be more interested in politics but honestly I am so bored right now.
maybe something will wow me and I'll change my mind when I'm done. Maybe I'm just in a horrible mood. I know I should be more interested in politics but honestly I am so bored right now.
March 28, 2018
I found it be to incredibly repetitive. We get it, Trump isn’t the president you wanted and SOMEHOW it’s white peoples fault? Just a no.
April 24, 2017
I’m not American, but I did follow the electoral goings-on with a mixture of horror and dismay. And dramatic political upheavals are not limited to the US of A – a brief glance at the news will reveal that bigotry and corruption have gotten a stranglehold in countries across the globe.
So when I saw this book up for request on Edelweiss, I didn’t hesitate to click. I think we’re all in need of some mental encouragement, some restorative for the soul in these rather trying times. (I’m not one to bury my head in the sand, but constant political awareness is somewhat exhausting and depressing.)
This is hard work. One could easily become exhausted, or fall prey to despair. This is where this book comes in. There is an antidote to despair to be found in connection, in shared words and thoughts and voices.
While the anthology is obviously US-centric, many of the lessons, observations and encouragements contained in this anthology can be applied across borders. As evidenced by the cover, this collection is made up of a diverse array of voices, some which may resonate with you, and others you will learn from.
And I think, for this review, I’ll allow a selection of quotes from the book to speak for themselves.
Colonial power, patriarchal power, capitalist power must always and everywhere be battled, because they never, ever quit.
On nationality, roots and ancestral history:
The human story is one of continual branching movement, out of Africa to every corner of the globe. When people talk of blood and soil, as if their ancestors sprung fully formed from the earth of a particular place, it involves a kind of forgetting.
On idealism:
I want to believe in prophecies more than policies. I want to listen to poets instead of pollsters. I want prosperity for all rather than profits for some. I want to believe in the people rather than the president.
Being a white women, it is perhaps unsurprising that one of the essays that resonated with me was one entitled “Dear White People”.
Nothing changes if we just feel shitty about being White. And nothing changes if we refuse to talk about it. The opposite of white pride does not have to be white shame. We can’t push it away and pretend it’s not us. We are not color-blind, we are not post-race, we do not get to reject our whiteness because it makes us feel bad…This does not get solved with a Celebration of Diversity Day and a coexist bumper sticker.
&
You are an ally because of your actions, not because you say you are.
On those who hold political power:
Sometimes the office may elevate the man; more often, the man degrades the office.
On despair:
I saw that I had overestimated the goodness of ordinary people. I saw that men who care about nothing but money will always rule the world.
A critique of the ‘better option’ still not being good enough:
Yet we progressives had handed you the very tools with which you would critique what was possible in favour of what was perfect. You couldn’t see Hillary as creating the preferable but imperfect conditions in which you would act. Because you were taught to wait on the sidelines for someone beyond criticism.
And this food for thought, which I don’t think I have the goodness to embrace:
There will come a time and it won’t be long, when the followers of Orange Caesar will realise that they have been lied to. That they have been fooled. That they are objects of cynical derision. And they will be hurt. We think we ache, we Nasty Women and Bad Hombres. That is when we must act. It will be our task not to gloat or mock. Because they are Us. It will be our job to comfort. We are not, in this midnight, permitted to refuse to shine. We are the light. Grace beats karma.
This thoughtful rumination on the power of words:
But language is malleable, and it is not always on the side of truth. This is something every writer knows. Words make and unmake the world with terrifying rapidity, and they do so without moral distinction…There is a battle going on right now over the words we use, over who has the right to speak and who does not.
A scathing indictment of US policy towards migrants – this passage just gripped me and wouldn’t let me go:
…Obama’s so called Plan Sur, which has literally outsourced immigration enforcement to corrupt Mexican authorities, providing Mexico with millions and millions of dollars to hunt and deport – effectively hunt, rape, rob, extort, murder, and maybe deport – Central American migrants in its southern regions in an attempt to alleviate the embarrassment of having hundreds of thousands of child refugees amassing at our borders, fleeing the violence and poverty of the very same Central America countries we gifted with “democracy” in exchange for helping to turn their countries into mass graves back in the ‘80s.
And a final message for all of us, going forward.
That people you don’t know are worth knowing, that they have something to teach you. That learning about them – that encountering new ideas – doesn’t threaten you, it enriches you.
***
ARC received from Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review. Quotes taken from uncorrected proof and may differ from final publication.
So when I saw this book up for request on Edelweiss, I didn’t hesitate to click. I think we’re all in need of some mental encouragement, some restorative for the soul in these rather trying times. (I’m not one to bury my head in the sand, but constant political awareness is somewhat exhausting and depressing.)
This is hard work. One could easily become exhausted, or fall prey to despair. This is where this book comes in. There is an antidote to despair to be found in connection, in shared words and thoughts and voices.
While the anthology is obviously US-centric, many of the lessons, observations and encouragements contained in this anthology can be applied across borders. As evidenced by the cover, this collection is made up of a diverse array of voices, some which may resonate with you, and others you will learn from.
And I think, for this review, I’ll allow a selection of quotes from the book to speak for themselves.
Colonial power, patriarchal power, capitalist power must always and everywhere be battled, because they never, ever quit.
On nationality, roots and ancestral history:
The human story is one of continual branching movement, out of Africa to every corner of the globe. When people talk of blood and soil, as if their ancestors sprung fully formed from the earth of a particular place, it involves a kind of forgetting.
On idealism:
I want to believe in prophecies more than policies. I want to listen to poets instead of pollsters. I want prosperity for all rather than profits for some. I want to believe in the people rather than the president.
Being a white women, it is perhaps unsurprising that one of the essays that resonated with me was one entitled “Dear White People”.
Nothing changes if we just feel shitty about being White. And nothing changes if we refuse to talk about it. The opposite of white pride does not have to be white shame. We can’t push it away and pretend it’s not us. We are not color-blind, we are not post-race, we do not get to reject our whiteness because it makes us feel bad…This does not get solved with a Celebration of Diversity Day and a coexist bumper sticker.
&
You are an ally because of your actions, not because you say you are.
On those who hold political power:
Sometimes the office may elevate the man; more often, the man degrades the office.
On despair:
I saw that I had overestimated the goodness of ordinary people. I saw that men who care about nothing but money will always rule the world.
A critique of the ‘better option’ still not being good enough:
Yet we progressives had handed you the very tools with which you would critique what was possible in favour of what was perfect. You couldn’t see Hillary as creating the preferable but imperfect conditions in which you would act. Because you were taught to wait on the sidelines for someone beyond criticism.
And this food for thought, which I don’t think I have the goodness to embrace:
There will come a time and it won’t be long, when the followers of Orange Caesar will realise that they have been lied to. That they have been fooled. That they are objects of cynical derision. And they will be hurt. We think we ache, we Nasty Women and Bad Hombres. That is when we must act. It will be our task not to gloat or mock. Because they are Us. It will be our job to comfort. We are not, in this midnight, permitted to refuse to shine. We are the light. Grace beats karma.
This thoughtful rumination on the power of words:
But language is malleable, and it is not always on the side of truth. This is something every writer knows. Words make and unmake the world with terrifying rapidity, and they do so without moral distinction…There is a battle going on right now over the words we use, over who has the right to speak and who does not.
A scathing indictment of US policy towards migrants – this passage just gripped me and wouldn’t let me go:
…Obama’s so called Plan Sur, which has literally outsourced immigration enforcement to corrupt Mexican authorities, providing Mexico with millions and millions of dollars to hunt and deport – effectively hunt, rape, rob, extort, murder, and maybe deport – Central American migrants in its southern regions in an attempt to alleviate the embarrassment of having hundreds of thousands of child refugees amassing at our borders, fleeing the violence and poverty of the very same Central America countries we gifted with “democracy” in exchange for helping to turn their countries into mass graves back in the ‘80s.
And a final message for all of us, going forward.
That people you don’t know are worth knowing, that they have something to teach you. That learning about them – that encountering new ideas – doesn’t threaten you, it enriches you.
***
ARC received from Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review. Quotes taken from uncorrected proof and may differ from final publication.
January 29, 2018
To be quite honest, when I read the introduction and understood the seed for this book - That fateful election day in November 2016 when everyone sane lamented the brief death of sanity and reason in this world - I judged it a bit. Yes, we live in trying times, but it surely is not apocalyptic. It is very entertaining, in fact, and very sad, to see some basic rights being questioned, but it is not the end of the world.
Then I asked myself if I was being honest really. No, I was not. How could I forget the sinking feeling in my heart as I saw the election results on Nov 8, as I was in the flight? How did I forget the conversations I had with my seat-mate, an Afghani-American? What possessed me to forget the collective sad vibe in the flight that day, as we all looked at each other in disbelief as we locked eyes with strangers for the next 7-8 hours!
No, it wasn't the sadness that Trump was elected. Neither was it the question of how he won, enough analysis has been done on this and I can even understand why people voted for him. It was the shock that someone who stood for divisiveness and stupidity was supported and not condemned. It was a brutal fact that stared in the eyes of the world that there were people who thought he was right and commended him. Those racist feelings which always existed but were supposed to be shameful were expressed out loud and met with Ayes. This was what was worthy of a lament.
And that is what this book is about. A bunch of smart people writing letters to people in their past, present and future, giving anecdotes from their personal family histories about The Resistance they all had to stand up for, during various phases in the last century. With heavy references to humanity and America's dark past, this book is a good reminder of the struggle civil rights had to go through to reach where we are today.
I believe that history is important to be taught to the next generation because how else are we supposed to progress as a population if we forget where we come from. This book has plenty to support this feeling.
Pick up this book if you believe in accepting reality and want to work towards a better future. Make your innocent teens and racist family members read this book because every once in a while, it is important to know the struggle humans have had because of their race, religion, color, Creed, caste, language and looks.
However, talking about such things with people who already agree with us on principle is not something The Resistance should focus on, in this climate. Let this book give you fodder to reason with those that believe that the extreme-right-slogans we see today are right. Coz, I also believe that the intellectual war can be won only when we can reason with the enemy and show why hate is wrong. So, think about reaching into the other side and trying to understand why they think what they think. Think of innovative arguments to show them a mirror about victimhood and entitlement. More than anything, let's all not judge and let's be open to listening to the arguments and debate with facts, not feelings.
Then I asked myself if I was being honest really. No, I was not. How could I forget the sinking feeling in my heart as I saw the election results on Nov 8, as I was in the flight? How did I forget the conversations I had with my seat-mate, an Afghani-American? What possessed me to forget the collective sad vibe in the flight that day, as we all looked at each other in disbelief as we locked eyes with strangers for the next 7-8 hours!
No, it wasn't the sadness that Trump was elected. Neither was it the question of how he won, enough analysis has been done on this and I can even understand why people voted for him. It was the shock that someone who stood for divisiveness and stupidity was supported and not condemned. It was a brutal fact that stared in the eyes of the world that there were people who thought he was right and commended him. Those racist feelings which always existed but were supposed to be shameful were expressed out loud and met with Ayes. This was what was worthy of a lament.
And that is what this book is about. A bunch of smart people writing letters to people in their past, present and future, giving anecdotes from their personal family histories about The Resistance they all had to stand up for, during various phases in the last century. With heavy references to humanity and America's dark past, this book is a good reminder of the struggle civil rights had to go through to reach where we are today.
I believe that history is important to be taught to the next generation because how else are we supposed to progress as a population if we forget where we come from. This book has plenty to support this feeling.
Pick up this book if you believe in accepting reality and want to work towards a better future. Make your innocent teens and racist family members read this book because every once in a while, it is important to know the struggle humans have had because of their race, religion, color, Creed, caste, language and looks.
However, talking about such things with people who already agree with us on principle is not something The Resistance should focus on, in this climate. Let this book give you fodder to reason with those that believe that the extreme-right-slogans we see today are right. Coz, I also believe that the intellectual war can be won only when we can reason with the enemy and show why hate is wrong. So, think about reaching into the other side and trying to understand why they think what they think. Think of innovative arguments to show them a mirror about victimhood and entitlement. More than anything, let's all not judge and let's be open to listening to the arguments and debate with facts, not feelings.
August 24, 2017
Forever keeping this in my office. A book full of love, hope, and a call to action - read this if you need a reminder that people can still fight to be good and true. (junot diaz and celeste ng's letters are perfect, as usual)
August 31, 2017
How dare you compare this trash to the work of Ta-Nehisi Coates and James Baldwin?!
I was expecting the letters to cover a variety of dangerous times, rather than just 'Oh, no! Trump is now president'.
This is basically a book full of letters from 30 writers who have lived with blinders on in a world supposedly full of rainbows and fairies. Trump being elected president shouldn't be such a surprise for so many people, and the world can't get better if people don't wake up and realize that!
The only letter I liked was by Io Tillett Wright.
I was expecting the letters to cover a variety of dangerous times, rather than just 'Oh, no! Trump is now president'.
This is basically a book full of letters from 30 writers who have lived with blinders on in a world supposedly full of rainbows and fairies. Trump being elected president shouldn't be such a surprise for so many people, and the world can't get better if people don't wake up and realize that!
The only letter I liked was by Io Tillett Wright.
October 27, 2023
This book had many different thoughts by authors, who speak better then I do. I liked it b/c it is about hope and perseverance, not despair and violence. Each author chose to write to a person s/he selected. Some of the views were a bit outside my comfort zone, but that is fine. I think if you read, you need to expand your thinking. Words are powerful and need to be expressed. Very interesting to hear so many.
August 18, 2017
Touching, informative, radical: this collection of essays is to be read over and over again! Some of the best writers of our time have poured out their hearts, in many ways, to advance thought and action about the status of the USA following the election of Donald Trump as the 45th president. Letters to historical figures, letters to future generations, letters to the reader--all intended to bring a new perspective on where we are as Americans in a time of unrest, uncertainty, and downright fear. And the overall message: develop radical hope.
I borrowed this book from my local library, and I plan to own a copy soon.
I borrowed this book from my local library, and I plan to own a copy soon.
January 17, 2018
full review - to come
I'd recommend. I foresee myself reading Radical Hope when I'm depressed about our current political climate in the U.S.. Favorite contributions: Mona Eltahawy, Karen Joy Fowler, Francisco Goldman, Kate Schatz. Aya De Leon, Jeff Chang,
Question for anyone who read this book: Thoughts about the unifying device - each writer addresses their letter to their children? 95% of the writers wrote to actual children. Cristina Garcia' wrote to a child she imagined 7 generations from now into the future. Did this m.o. irritate anyone? Or become a restraint on the essays that backfired, in your opinion?
I'd recommend. I foresee myself reading Radical Hope when I'm depressed about our current political climate in the U.S.. Favorite contributions: Mona Eltahawy, Karen Joy Fowler, Francisco Goldman, Kate Schatz. Aya De Leon, Jeff Chang,
Question for anyone who read this book: Thoughts about the unifying device - each writer addresses their letter to their children? 95% of the writers wrote to actual children. Cristina Garcia' wrote to a child she imagined 7 generations from now into the future. Did this m.o. irritate anyone? Or become a restraint on the essays that backfired, in your opinion?
November 22, 2018
Truly thankful for the amazing compilation of letters from progressive authors of our time. Definitely timely and perfect for giving us a much-needed dose of hope. My favorites include: "America" by Parnaz Foroutan, "Human Rights is the Handhold, Pass it On" by Mkhja Kahf, "A Time to Demand the Impossible" by Viet Thanh Nguyen, "The Fear and The Resistance" by Jedf Chang, Claire Messud’s letter to her daughter, “The Most Important Act of Resistance” by Meredith Russo, and Celeste Ng’s “Stay Open.”
“Every moment our fears and anxieties hold dominion over us is a moment that those who hate have stolen from us, and we must give them nothing.” -M. Russo
“Every moment our fears and anxieties hold dominion over us is a moment that those who hate have stolen from us, and we must give them nothing.” -M. Russo
December 26, 2017
While this book had a few redeeming essays, I agree with those who found it an echo chamber. The pro-Bernie and anti-Hillary anti-Democrat letters were continually divisive in a time where the Left needs to unite. The editor chose not to include even one pro-Hillary letter. Redundant, dull, biased. I skimmed to the end in hopes it would get better.
July 10, 2017
Short stories from various authors, primarily centering around issues of immigration and intersectionality post-election. I liked it more than a 3, I think I'm just a little jaded re-hashing all the post-election feelings. Would have been much more useful 7 months ago!
May 23, 2017
You want this anthology.
Read the full review here!
Read the full review here!
January 14, 2024
This book was a beautiful and difficult, it took me a long time but I’m glad that I didn’t rush through! Writing letters is such a powerful way to communicate!
October 27, 2020
This collection of letters written in the months immediately following the 2016 election is structured into 3 sections -- letters to our ancestors (I particularly liked the one written to Harriet Tubman), letters to present day people or communities, and letters to children or future generations. As with any collection, some resonated with me more than others. My two favorite are probably two near the end - one by Celeste Ng, the other by Peter Orner. What was equally interesting to reading this collection just before the 2020 election, was reading reviews of this collection written in 2017 and 2018 - particularly those that said something to the effect of "how bad could it be". 2020 has answered that question in full force. While I thought the collection was meaningful and impactful, I don't know that people who didn't already agree with the content of the essay collection would pick it up and read it.
December 9, 2024
needed the optimism from this even if it felt bleak knowing we are reliving all of these emotions 4 years later
trying to remember that hope is an act of rebellion & courage these days & these letters really helped in that endeavor
trying to remember that hope is an act of rebellion & courage these days & these letters really helped in that endeavor
May 24, 2017
This is a difficult book to review; there is so much to say about each and every incredible contribution. It’s a sprawling ambitious project that one senses has helped the writers come to terms with the election results, as much as it is designed to console and instigate hope, courage and the desire to continue the battle in its readers. Written between the time between the 2017 USA Presidential election and the actual inauguration of President Trump the book whirls around thirty-one letters written to people of the contributor’s choice about the situation. Some letters explain why we may have got to this place in time, others go into detail about past times/ battles, others imagine a future beyond all this. Some of the letters do all three.
Carolina De Robertis writes a beautiful introduction (and invokes her Argentinian/Uruguayan grandmother who never lived to see the dictatorships in her countries lifted) whereby she explains the idea behind the letters that she has bought together and edited. She has divided the letters into three sections: roots (past), branches (present), seeds (future). There is no more apt metaphor for hope than a tree, still standing strong and sending out its seeds into the future.
The letters are fresh responses that dip into the past to look for meaning. When you read these letters it is easy to imagine the writers sitting at their desks as they find a way through the shock, anger and fear (the US President election hangover) on the page. Their focus on a particular reader/s means these writers have had to delve down and take on the role, not only of writer but of friend, stranger, ancestor, parent, godparent, great great great great great great grandparent even! This adds responsibility and a need for clarity.
This is a multivocal book although the message of love, anger and a burning desire for change and dignity is unanimous. The contributors come from different walks of life and different countries (Syria, Lebanon, Mexico, Cuba, Nigeria, China, Japan, Eypt, India, Puerto Rico, Iran, Guatemala, Indigenous North America, Russia, Uruguay, various parts of Europe and Africa), the only thing that binds them is a particular claim on language – the opposite of silence - and that the United States is their home.
Although all these letters pulsate with life, intelligence and angles on the situation that are absolutely fascinating and intriguing, I have my favourite letters, ones I have re-read a number of times which have left me buzzing.
Katie Kitamura’s letter to her child Mila is by far the one I identify most with, it is a very raw letter, we understand how she has had to really delve deep to dig out hope (and meaning), that as mother and writer she is feeling the fragmentation of our times. She talks about how the election paralysed her essence, how she can’t find her words just when her child is beginning the process of acquiring language. Her promise as mother is to ensure language is not impoverished for her child; she writes about her need to find the language that will help her find meaning in this world, which in turn will lend itself to action. I find this letter incredibly moving. I also thoroughly enjoyed Jeff Chang’s letter and his discourse on the impossibility to overestimate the power of fear and the lyrics peppering his text. I found Mona Eltahawy’s letter to Sally (a sixteen year old she had a chance meeting with in Cairo – another American – Egyptian citizen) illuminating. She quotes Zora Neal Hurston “ If you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.”
This is a book about not being silent, about standing strong and courageous and about solidarity and community.
Carolina De Robertis writes a beautiful introduction (and invokes her Argentinian/Uruguayan grandmother who never lived to see the dictatorships in her countries lifted) whereby she explains the idea behind the letters that she has bought together and edited. She has divided the letters into three sections: roots (past), branches (present), seeds (future). There is no more apt metaphor for hope than a tree, still standing strong and sending out its seeds into the future.
The letters are fresh responses that dip into the past to look for meaning. When you read these letters it is easy to imagine the writers sitting at their desks as they find a way through the shock, anger and fear (the US President election hangover) on the page. Their focus on a particular reader/s means these writers have had to delve down and take on the role, not only of writer but of friend, stranger, ancestor, parent, godparent, great great great great great great grandparent even! This adds responsibility and a need for clarity.
This is a multivocal book although the message of love, anger and a burning desire for change and dignity is unanimous. The contributors come from different walks of life and different countries (Syria, Lebanon, Mexico, Cuba, Nigeria, China, Japan, Eypt, India, Puerto Rico, Iran, Guatemala, Indigenous North America, Russia, Uruguay, various parts of Europe and Africa), the only thing that binds them is a particular claim on language – the opposite of silence - and that the United States is their home.
Although all these letters pulsate with life, intelligence and angles on the situation that are absolutely fascinating and intriguing, I have my favourite letters, ones I have re-read a number of times which have left me buzzing.
Katie Kitamura’s letter to her child Mila is by far the one I identify most with, it is a very raw letter, we understand how she has had to really delve deep to dig out hope (and meaning), that as mother and writer she is feeling the fragmentation of our times. She talks about how the election paralysed her essence, how she can’t find her words just when her child is beginning the process of acquiring language. Her promise as mother is to ensure language is not impoverished for her child; she writes about her need to find the language that will help her find meaning in this world, which in turn will lend itself to action. I find this letter incredibly moving. I also thoroughly enjoyed Jeff Chang’s letter and his discourse on the impossibility to overestimate the power of fear and the lyrics peppering his text. I found Mona Eltahawy’s letter to Sally (a sixteen year old she had a chance meeting with in Cairo – another American – Egyptian citizen) illuminating. She quotes Zora Neal Hurston “ If you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.”
This is a book about not being silent, about standing strong and courageous and about solidarity and community.
December 20, 2020
This is a collection of letters/essays all written within the first few months of the election of 2016. Some essays I might give three or 3.5 stars and some I would give 4.5 or 5 stars. Averaging that out, the book gets 4 stars from me. I think this collection would be best appreciated a little at a time. Like any good anthology of short stories or essays, you can't absorb everything at once. Ideas and thoughts, opinions and perspectives all blend together if you read everything too closely together. In other words, this is not a bag of chips to be eaten in one sitting.
Each writer chose to write to someone from their past or to someone who has many years ahead of them. All the writers expressed intense, deeply personal experiences of systematic oppression and the never-ending struggle for understanding, improvement and change. Anger, worry, fear and concern were all primary themes. Hope is in the title of the collection, but I did not always feel it. Especially near the end of the collection, I began to feel that hope was being overcome by despair and disappointment. But maybe that was just my own opinions seeping through as a result of my inability to take my own advice and read these essays a little at a time. The potato chip bag was clearly over my head when I was finished with this book.
The essays that had the most impact on me were the ones in the beginning of the book, including:
- Not a Moment but a Movement by Jewelle Gomez. In this letter, Ms. Gomez shared stories of the indignities that her grandmother faced as an indigenous person. It was an inspiration to read that her grandmother retained a hope that came from inside and passed it own to her granddaughter.
- A Time to Demand the Impossible by Viet Thanh Nguyen - a letter to artists and believers in peace. Viet Thanh Nguyen asked an important question. Can we stop listening to strategists and doubters and start listening to the dreamers who believe in what is possible?
- What I Mean by Kate Schatz - this letter to white people made me want to highlight every sentence and burn them into my brain
- Dear Millennials by Aya de Leon - yes! Millennials are not the future. They are the present. We - the collective we who write these essays and read these books - needed to read this one in 2014 or 2015.
- To the Woman Standing in Line at the Store by Elmaz Abinader. Everyone has a story that needs to be shared.
- A "Holla" from the West Side by Cherrie Moraga - letter to the "Radically Hopefully" Artist, which is really a letter to all of us to appreciate the artists who have faced oppression and still protested through their art, producing a legacy for all of us.
- While You Were Standing by Karen Joy Fowler - we have to join together and act.
- Stay Open by Celeste Ng - this letter to her son is a hope for an open future.
I wish I read this collection when it was first available so that I could have prepared myself mentally for the years ahead and focused more what needs the most attention and support. I noticed that some of the views on the current events of 2016 are hard to read from the perspective of four years later. Of course, as we all know, we are in unprecedented times. There are more years ahead and the struggle will continue.
Each writer chose to write to someone from their past or to someone who has many years ahead of them. All the writers expressed intense, deeply personal experiences of systematic oppression and the never-ending struggle for understanding, improvement and change. Anger, worry, fear and concern were all primary themes. Hope is in the title of the collection, but I did not always feel it. Especially near the end of the collection, I began to feel that hope was being overcome by despair and disappointment. But maybe that was just my own opinions seeping through as a result of my inability to take my own advice and read these essays a little at a time. The potato chip bag was clearly over my head when I was finished with this book.
The essays that had the most impact on me were the ones in the beginning of the book, including:
- Not a Moment but a Movement by Jewelle Gomez. In this letter, Ms. Gomez shared stories of the indignities that her grandmother faced as an indigenous person. It was an inspiration to read that her grandmother retained a hope that came from inside and passed it own to her granddaughter.
- A Time to Demand the Impossible by Viet Thanh Nguyen - a letter to artists and believers in peace. Viet Thanh Nguyen asked an important question. Can we stop listening to strategists and doubters and start listening to the dreamers who believe in what is possible?
- What I Mean by Kate Schatz - this letter to white people made me want to highlight every sentence and burn them into my brain
- Dear Millennials by Aya de Leon - yes! Millennials are not the future. They are the present. We - the collective we who write these essays and read these books - needed to read this one in 2014 or 2015.
- To the Woman Standing in Line at the Store by Elmaz Abinader. Everyone has a story that needs to be shared.
- A "Holla" from the West Side by Cherrie Moraga - letter to the "Radically Hopefully" Artist, which is really a letter to all of us to appreciate the artists who have faced oppression and still protested through their art, producing a legacy for all of us.
- While You Were Standing by Karen Joy Fowler - we have to join together and act.
- Stay Open by Celeste Ng - this letter to her son is a hope for an open future.
I wish I read this collection when it was first available so that I could have prepared myself mentally for the years ahead and focused more what needs the most attention and support. I noticed that some of the views on the current events of 2016 are hard to read from the perspective of four years later. Of course, as we all know, we are in unprecedented times. There are more years ahead and the struggle will continue.
June 13, 2017
Carolina de Robertis has curated a really magical and interesting body of work. In RADICAL HOPE: LETTERS OF LOVE AND DISSENT IN DANGEROUS TIMES, she has amassed essays from over 30 authors, writing about how American society has changed since the 45th President took office, and how we can not give up hope. Among the disastrous normalizing of racism, sexism, homophobia, scapegoating, stereotyping, etc., there are still places where love and hope exist...and the authors dive into these places while never avoiding acknowledging the nastiness.
What is so noteworthy is the format of the collection, as well as the format of the essays themselves. As the subtitle would suggest, all of the essays are written in epistolary format. This means that they are in the form of letters, written from the author to someone else. The structure of RADICAL HOPE is such that the letters are organized into "Roots", "Branches", and "Seeds"; the "Roots" letters are written to people in the authors' pasts, the "Branches" are written to friends/family/strangers/acquaintances in the authors' present day, and "Seeds" are written to the generations upcoming or in the distant future. There are letters written to Harriet Beecher Stowe, to immigrant and refugee ancestors, to Muslims living in America today, to "You", to authors and readers, to Mexican-Americans, to white Americans, to activists, to people you see on the street but never meet, to Millennials and Baby Boomers, to godchildren living abroad, to generations many years yet to be. Because the form is a letter, rather than a traditional essay, it naturally encourages the writer to engage with the topic on personal, political, and expositional levels. Although each letter is only a few pages, I felt as though I was given a window into a part of their lives that I'd never otherwise get. Through this, I felt a sense of connection and camaraderie with these wonderful artists.
RADICAL HOPE is a stirring and affirming reassurance to those of us who disagree with the bedrock on which the current American administration stands, and are deeply discouraged with our current society. The authors do not avoid the anger, but offer counteraction - love and hope. The collection offers hope, by remembering where we've come from, where we are, and where we are going.
What is so noteworthy is the format of the collection, as well as the format of the essays themselves. As the subtitle would suggest, all of the essays are written in epistolary format. This means that they are in the form of letters, written from the author to someone else. The structure of RADICAL HOPE is such that the letters are organized into "Roots", "Branches", and "Seeds"; the "Roots" letters are written to people in the authors' pasts, the "Branches" are written to friends/family/strangers/acquaintances in the authors' present day, and "Seeds" are written to the generations upcoming or in the distant future. There are letters written to Harriet Beecher Stowe, to immigrant and refugee ancestors, to Muslims living in America today, to "You", to authors and readers, to Mexican-Americans, to white Americans, to activists, to people you see on the street but never meet, to Millennials and Baby Boomers, to godchildren living abroad, to generations many years yet to be. Because the form is a letter, rather than a traditional essay, it naturally encourages the writer to engage with the topic on personal, political, and expositional levels. Although each letter is only a few pages, I felt as though I was given a window into a part of their lives that I'd never otherwise get. Through this, I felt a sense of connection and camaraderie with these wonderful artists.
RADICAL HOPE is a stirring and affirming reassurance to those of us who disagree with the bedrock on which the current American administration stands, and are deeply discouraged with our current society. The authors do not avoid the anger, but offer counteraction - love and hope. The collection offers hope, by remembering where we've come from, where we are, and where we are going.
September 29, 2017
Four essays I read twice:
What I Mean: Kate Schatz
"Nothing changes if we just feel shitty about being white. And nothing changes if we refuse to talk about it. The opposite of white pride does not have to be white shame. We can't push it away and pretend it's not us. We are not color blind, we are not post-race, we do not get to reject our whiteness because it makes us feel bad."
(Note to self, look up the Grimke sisters, Lucretia Mott, Julia Ward Howe, Emma Goldman, Jane Addams, Viola Liuzzo, Jessie Daniel Ames, Adrienne Rich, Minnie Bruce Pratt, and Polly Spiegel Cowan.)
To the Woman Standing in Line at the Store: Elmaz Abinader
"Many of us have not learned how to lose something."
Dear Millennials: Aya de Leon
"In order to win, we need to be willing to risk, envision, and create, try, fail, and try again. We need to develop a space for leadership development that balances forgiveness with accountability. Only then can we move from being people who criticize power to those who are prepared to wield it to create the just and caring world we envision."
Stay Open: Celeste Ng
"Because being curious is admitting that you don't know, but also that you want to know. That what you don't know is worth knowing. That people you don't know are worth knowing, that they have something to teach you. That learning about them--that encountering new ideas--doesn't threaten you, it enriches you. That what you haven't experienced is worth experiencing. That you approach the world as a trove of things to take in, rather than things you frantically, fearfully wall out. Be kind, be curious, be helpful: what that really means is, stay open."
What I Mean: Kate Schatz
"Nothing changes if we just feel shitty about being white. And nothing changes if we refuse to talk about it. The opposite of white pride does not have to be white shame. We can't push it away and pretend it's not us. We are not color blind, we are not post-race, we do not get to reject our whiteness because it makes us feel bad."
(Note to self, look up the Grimke sisters, Lucretia Mott, Julia Ward Howe, Emma Goldman, Jane Addams, Viola Liuzzo, Jessie Daniel Ames, Adrienne Rich, Minnie Bruce Pratt, and Polly Spiegel Cowan.)
To the Woman Standing in Line at the Store: Elmaz Abinader
"Many of us have not learned how to lose something."
Dear Millennials: Aya de Leon
"In order to win, we need to be willing to risk, envision, and create, try, fail, and try again. We need to develop a space for leadership development that balances forgiveness with accountability. Only then can we move from being people who criticize power to those who are prepared to wield it to create the just and caring world we envision."
Stay Open: Celeste Ng
"Because being curious is admitting that you don't know, but also that you want to know. That what you don't know is worth knowing. That people you don't know are worth knowing, that they have something to teach you. That learning about them--that encountering new ideas--doesn't threaten you, it enriches you. That what you haven't experienced is worth experiencing. That you approach the world as a trove of things to take in, rather than things you frantically, fearfully wall out. Be kind, be curious, be helpful: what that really means is, stay open."
May 1, 2025
Radical Hope: Letters of Love and Dissent in Dangerous Times is a collection of letters that’s so easy to pick up and so hard to put down. It gathers novelists, journalists, poets, and activists – all writing a letter centered on the societal shift inherent in the election of Donald Trump in 2016. Of note, this collection predates Trump’s first term and while it could certainly use a refresh, what you will find in its pages is good company with those who, too, fear for the very fabric of our society and for the most vulnerable amongst us. Equal parts self-reflection and mega-phone, it’s a worthy wakeup-call of a read for the times we’re today navigating.
There are 33 letters in this collection, spanning only 240 pages. What follows are a few of the ones that made an impression on me.
Dear Mama Harriet by Alicia Garza
Alicia Garza, an organizer, political strategist, and co-creator of Black Lives Matter, pens a letter to abolitionist Harriet Tubman. Tubman, who escaped slavery herself, helped to rescue hundreds of others through her work, including through the Underground Railroad.
"Mama Harriet, I'm terrified. I worry every day that none of it is enough. I worry that my heart will harden. I worry that I will lose faith in us. Those feelings are fleeting. I know they will go away. But my real fear? My real fear is that we won't get it together until it's too late."
The Lantern by Roxana Robinson
A letter to Harriet Beecher Stowe, author of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, which dramatically transformed how slavery was perceived at a time when it was still widely embraced.
"Rage and hatred are not the engines we want to drive the country, but rage drives those voters... Looking into the eyes of someone who hates you is diminishing. Who are you, if your being is denied? How can you be human if you are hated. Hatred itself is silencing. Hatred denies us the power of conversation, of exchanging thoughts. If you hate me, we can't speak to each other. We are each alone. If you look at me with rage, you will not know me. You will not believe in the beating of my heart."
Roxana Robinson draws historical correlation, placing on a similar plane those who wielded violence in support of slavery to those who’d wield a shotgun to intimidate voters at the polls. Both, Robinson argues, are threatened by their perceived loss of agency and humanity.
A Letter to My Son by Hari Kunzru
After dropping his toddler off at school, Hari Kunzru writes a powerful letter from father to son. He wrotes how there’s been much talk about who belongs and who does not, who should be pushed out or sent back. He confides in his letter how, after his son is tucked into bed, he and his wife discuss the cities and countries they’d consider if they were no longer welcome in the country they call home.
"We - you, me, your mother, your sister - are migrants. That is our history. Because of that history, because of who we (and our parents) chose to love and where they chose to go, we are cosmopolitan. It's something I feel proud of, but for others, it seems to be an incitement, a rebuke."
Dreams from Our Fathers by Faith Adeiele
Faith Adiele is proud to call herself “Halfrican,” a baby of the Civil Rights era, born to optimistic white American mothers and black African fathers. Her father, who dedicated his life to advancing education in Africa, often said, “We don’t live for ourselves.” Faith embraces the same in the America of today.
"On Bloody Sunday, two days before my second birthday, Alabama state troopers attacked six hundred peaceful demonstrators with billy clubs, tear gas, and bullwhips. Today, Republicans exchange billy clubs for legislation chipping away at the Voting Rights Act; corporations teargas us with ads and reality television until the only vote we care about is American Idol; but police departments stick with the tried and true, slaughtering black men in the streets, on camera if need be."
A Time to Demand the Impossible by Viet Thanh Nguyen
Viet Thanh Nguyen, recipient of the 2016 Pulitzer Prize for his novel The Sympathizer, pens a letter to writers, artists, readers, lovers of art, and believers of peace and in a more perfect world.
"The Democrats don't seem to understand the principle of negotiation, which is to begin from what you want, not what you will settle for... The Republicans may have the wrong principles, but at least they have principles and stand by them. Here's what I have to say to American liberals and leftists: instead of listening to the strategists, who don't believe it's possible to dramatically change our society, can we finally be bold and listen to the artists and the outsiders and the radicals and the freaks and the avant-garde and the base and the youth and the anarchists and all those who don't want to do business as usual with the limousine liberalism of both the elite Democrats and Republicans? Can we listen to the dreamers instead of the doubters? Can we dare to demand the impossible?"
A "Holla" from the West Side by Cherrie Moraga
Mexican American author Cherrie Moraga pens a letter to artists of radical hope.
"What does it mean to be a Mexican American and a descendant of Native peoples who were living in the United States before it was the United States and still, five hundred years later, be viewed as an immigrant? How might it feel to be a Mexican American and recognize your family's face in virtually every carwash crew, business park custodial team, restaurant cook, dishwasher and busboy, and in one out of every four stroller-pushing and bucket-bearing domestic workers... and then to be told that your own relatives are illegal and a drain on the economy?"
A Letter to My Daughter by Claire Messud
Author Claire Messud pens a letter to her daughter, centered on the theme of power and wealth and all that is wrong with a corporatocratic society.
"To live in hope, without fear, with nothing to lose: that's freedom. And that's what democracy should allow. Any society that that believes that money is the greatest power can't truly be free."
Messud argues that the “common good” is the “highest good.”
"[W]e're all bare human beings beneath our clothes, humble in our lives and deaths. Power and prominence are as meaningless as wealth and beauty. All is vanity. This hollow president - vanity incarnate - is the voice of a hollow culture..."
4.25 out of 5
There are 33 letters in this collection, spanning only 240 pages. What follows are a few of the ones that made an impression on me.
Dear Mama Harriet by Alicia Garza
Alicia Garza, an organizer, political strategist, and co-creator of Black Lives Matter, pens a letter to abolitionist Harriet Tubman. Tubman, who escaped slavery herself, helped to rescue hundreds of others through her work, including through the Underground Railroad.
"Mama Harriet, I'm terrified. I worry every day that none of it is enough. I worry that my heart will harden. I worry that I will lose faith in us. Those feelings are fleeting. I know they will go away. But my real fear? My real fear is that we won't get it together until it's too late."
The Lantern by Roxana Robinson
A letter to Harriet Beecher Stowe, author of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, which dramatically transformed how slavery was perceived at a time when it was still widely embraced.
"Rage and hatred are not the engines we want to drive the country, but rage drives those voters... Looking into the eyes of someone who hates you is diminishing. Who are you, if your being is denied? How can you be human if you are hated. Hatred itself is silencing. Hatred denies us the power of conversation, of exchanging thoughts. If you hate me, we can't speak to each other. We are each alone. If you look at me with rage, you will not know me. You will not believe in the beating of my heart."
Roxana Robinson draws historical correlation, placing on a similar plane those who wielded violence in support of slavery to those who’d wield a shotgun to intimidate voters at the polls. Both, Robinson argues, are threatened by their perceived loss of agency and humanity.
A Letter to My Son by Hari Kunzru
After dropping his toddler off at school, Hari Kunzru writes a powerful letter from father to son. He wrotes how there’s been much talk about who belongs and who does not, who should be pushed out or sent back. He confides in his letter how, after his son is tucked into bed, he and his wife discuss the cities and countries they’d consider if they were no longer welcome in the country they call home.
"We - you, me, your mother, your sister - are migrants. That is our history. Because of that history, because of who we (and our parents) chose to love and where they chose to go, we are cosmopolitan. It's something I feel proud of, but for others, it seems to be an incitement, a rebuke."
Dreams from Our Fathers by Faith Adeiele
Faith Adiele is proud to call herself “Halfrican,” a baby of the Civil Rights era, born to optimistic white American mothers and black African fathers. Her father, who dedicated his life to advancing education in Africa, often said, “We don’t live for ourselves.” Faith embraces the same in the America of today.
"On Bloody Sunday, two days before my second birthday, Alabama state troopers attacked six hundred peaceful demonstrators with billy clubs, tear gas, and bullwhips. Today, Republicans exchange billy clubs for legislation chipping away at the Voting Rights Act; corporations teargas us with ads and reality television until the only vote we care about is American Idol; but police departments stick with the tried and true, slaughtering black men in the streets, on camera if need be."
A Time to Demand the Impossible by Viet Thanh Nguyen
Viet Thanh Nguyen, recipient of the 2016 Pulitzer Prize for his novel The Sympathizer, pens a letter to writers, artists, readers, lovers of art, and believers of peace and in a more perfect world.
"The Democrats don't seem to understand the principle of negotiation, which is to begin from what you want, not what you will settle for... The Republicans may have the wrong principles, but at least they have principles and stand by them. Here's what I have to say to American liberals and leftists: instead of listening to the strategists, who don't believe it's possible to dramatically change our society, can we finally be bold and listen to the artists and the outsiders and the radicals and the freaks and the avant-garde and the base and the youth and the anarchists and all those who don't want to do business as usual with the limousine liberalism of both the elite Democrats and Republicans? Can we listen to the dreamers instead of the doubters? Can we dare to demand the impossible?"
A "Holla" from the West Side by Cherrie Moraga
Mexican American author Cherrie Moraga pens a letter to artists of radical hope.
"What does it mean to be a Mexican American and a descendant of Native peoples who were living in the United States before it was the United States and still, five hundred years later, be viewed as an immigrant? How might it feel to be a Mexican American and recognize your family's face in virtually every carwash crew, business park custodial team, restaurant cook, dishwasher and busboy, and in one out of every four stroller-pushing and bucket-bearing domestic workers... and then to be told that your own relatives are illegal and a drain on the economy?"
A Letter to My Daughter by Claire Messud
Author Claire Messud pens a letter to her daughter, centered on the theme of power and wealth and all that is wrong with a corporatocratic society.
"To live in hope, without fear, with nothing to lose: that's freedom. And that's what democracy should allow. Any society that that believes that money is the greatest power can't truly be free."
Messud argues that the “common good” is the “highest good.”
"[W]e're all bare human beings beneath our clothes, humble in our lives and deaths. Power and prominence are as meaningless as wealth and beauty. All is vanity. This hollow president - vanity incarnate - is the voice of a hollow culture..."
4.25 out of 5
July 28, 2018
There are many wonder, even powerful, letters and essays in this book. Unfortunately, I didn't connect with the entire collection as much as I assume I would have in late 2016, early 2017. I still think the election of DJT was a calamitous, sickening affront to our country. In fact, it's no longer guess work - he has proved this repeatedly. But the raw, "were all doomed" feeling has morphed into other - some more concrete, some more vague - emotions. This book was written as a salve for those rawer times.
Plus, there are a few occasions here where authors commit, what I feel, is a fundamental failure of Democrats trying to get their point across: on two sides of their mouths, they will argue both that "Republicans are vile and evil" and also that "Democrats are the party of compassion". Drives me nuts when they do that. One can't take the moral high ground while casting members of "the other side" as pathetic figures to be kicked and ridiculed.
But in general, many of the essays are worth the read. Many are uplifting and draw upon our common need to make sense of the election. Our need to find ways to channel our rage, our disbelief. My favorites were written by Viet Thahn Nguyen, Reyna Grande, Francisco Goldman, and Elmaz Abinader.
Plus, there are a few occasions here where authors commit, what I feel, is a fundamental failure of Democrats trying to get their point across: on two sides of their mouths, they will argue both that "Republicans are vile and evil" and also that "Democrats are the party of compassion". Drives me nuts when they do that. One can't take the moral high ground while casting members of "the other side" as pathetic figures to be kicked and ridiculed.
But in general, many of the essays are worth the read. Many are uplifting and draw upon our common need to make sense of the election. Our need to find ways to channel our rage, our disbelief. My favorites were written by Viet Thahn Nguyen, Reyna Grande, Francisco Goldman, and Elmaz Abinader.
June 10, 2017
A collection of letters from various authors written in the weeks and months after the 2016 presidential election. This was for the most part hit or miss, but to me, the standout here is Aya de León's Dear Millenials. It really hit on something I have been feeling but have found difficult to put into words.
"In progressive communities, taking action or leadership or generating new ideas happens under the threat of harsh reads, under fears of humiliation and excommunication. We unwittingly gave you the means to create a culture where everyone waits on the sideline for someone else to say or do something. Everyone is a critic, and it's unsafe to step up with our imperfections. So instead of a culture of shared vulnerability in building new possibilities, instead of a culture where people try and fail and celebrate the attempt, we have unwittingly created a culture where many feel inhibited by fear and inaction until and unless they are perfect."
That really resonated with me as someone who casts a critical eye and who also is sometimes hesitant to risk for fear of receiving criticism. This has me mindful of how I am contributing to the prevailing critical culture.
"In progressive communities, taking action or leadership or generating new ideas happens under the threat of harsh reads, under fears of humiliation and excommunication. We unwittingly gave you the means to create a culture where everyone waits on the sideline for someone else to say or do something. Everyone is a critic, and it's unsafe to step up with our imperfections. So instead of a culture of shared vulnerability in building new possibilities, instead of a culture where people try and fail and celebrate the attempt, we have unwittingly created a culture where many feel inhibited by fear and inaction until and unless they are perfect."
That really resonated with me as someone who casts a critical eye and who also is sometimes hesitant to risk for fear of receiving criticism. This has me mindful of how I am contributing to the prevailing critical culture.
November 21, 2017
Absolutely loved this one. It’s exactly the words I needed in this political season in America that often leaves me feeling discouraged and hopeless. These letters written by so many diverse and brilliant authors are wildly different from one another, collectively pointing to hope, beauty, bravery, and a better tomorrow. They are rich, moving, heartfelt, striking, and convicting. They opened my eyes and broke my heart and encouraged me so much. No matter where you fall on the political spectrum or how you feel about the state of things these days, I highly recommend reading this one if for no other reason than to better understand how others are feeling these days. This should be required reading for all Americans right now, really.
September 14, 2017
I liked some authors' letters more than others. iO Tillett Wright's letter was my favorite, because to me it seemed to address the problems of Trump's election in the most creative and personal way. Most of the letters seemed to be written in disbelief about how Trump was elected to this country, which became repetitive when you're reading that same message over and over. I expected more of the letters to take on more of a short story-like quality (like Wright's), especially since most of these authors were writers of fiction, than they actually did.
January 25, 2025
The individual letters were overall good. Some were better than others. All of the authors are brilliant and well-spoken. So this is not intended to be a reflection on the individual authors. But the book, when put together, was pretty repetitive and sort of dragged on. It just didn’t do it for me overall.
That being said, I think the rating also reflects the fact that I listened to this in 2025 instead of 2017. I wish I had read/listened to it then. It just doesn’t hit the same the second time around as it might have then.
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