“I'm supposed to be thankful for everything. Thank you for publishing me! Thank you for asking me to attend an event! Thank you for thanking me for writing characters you could relate to despite them being Indian! Thank you for saying you almost felt like they were just normal people! [...] Thank you for telling me you wish you had been brave enough to date the Indian girls in high school! Thank you for asking me about whether or not you should take a vacation to India! Thank you for telling me that your Indian neighbor makes your hallway smell like curry! Thank you for apologizing for hating curry, like I am curry's mother!”
I love this book. Are you honestly sick of all the earnest and guilt-inducing books about race and/or need a few laughs and then might even still welcome a punch in the gut once again on the subject? You know, I picked up this book a couple times and put it down in spite of the general buzz in favor of it. Sometimes a book is just not right for you, or is the wrong time or place to read it. And then I picked it up again and read it through in almost one sitting and it’s one of the best books for me of the year. It’s a memoir that got put in the graphic novels category, but it’s really best described as a series of illustrated conversations—really, really good conversations, SO well-written, between Mira Jacobs (Indian-American, or East Indian, or South Asian), her Jewish husband, her (necessarily mixed-race 6-year-old son Z who is really the heart of the story, her parents, her parents-in-law, plenty of friends and several strangers, many of them tone-deaf with respect to the issue of race.
The book spans Jacob’s life, including her parents’s arranged marriage, their concern for her marrying someone non-Indian (as her husband’s family would have preferred her to be Jewish), her being disdained by some of her own family (and other Indians) for being too dark (yes, my second book on colorism in a single week, the first a picture book, Sulwe). It is sometimes wincingly painful to read but is mostly hilarious, including great kid questions Z asks her, a story about a woman who wants to hire her to write about her Founding Fathers family, her Daughters of the American Revolution award-winning essay, her attempts to get pot for her Dad as he suffers through cancer, and so on.
The dialogue is almost perfectly pitched on every page, just terrific. Good talk? Oh, it's better than that! It’s Great Talk. And oh my, yes, Jacobs can write, all the way through this:
“We think our hearts break only from endings - the love gone, the rooms empty, the future unhappening as we stand ready to step into it - but what about how they can shatter in the face of what is possible.”
If you are not already convinced, just read part of this note to her son and try to tell me you are not interested in this book:
“Once, before I had you, I saw you. I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. I was pregnant and standing alone outside a party, and when you kicked, I shut my eyes and saw you on a beach we would arrive at almost five years later. You were facing the water and wearing your blue swimsuit and I knew, from the curve in your spine and the nut brown of your skin, that you were mine to protect like nothing else ever will be. So when you first started asking me hard questions, the ones about America and your place here, I wanted to find you the right answers - the kind that would make you feel good, welcome, and loved. I thought if I could just remember the country I'd been raised to believe in, the one I was sure I would eventually get to, I'd be able to get us back there.
Here is the thing, though, the real, true thing I still have trouble admitting: I can't protect you from everything. I can't protect you from becoming a brown man in America. I can't protect you from spending a lifetime caught between the beautiful dream of a diverse nation and the complicated reality of one.
Even now, just writing that down, I want to say something that will make it okay, or even make it make sense, but I can't.
And this is maybe the part I worry about the most, how the weight of that will twist you into someone you don't want to be, or worse, make you ashamed of your own heart. I hope you will remember that you have nothing to be ashamed of. I hope you will remember that your heart is a good one, and that your capacity to feel love, in all its complexity, is a gift.”
Because it spans her life thus far, it does touch on Bush, Obama and Trump presidencies and what they have meant for people of color. One of the most painful moments is when she sees that her parents-in-law are Trump supporters--I can relate a bit, as some of my sibs are Trump supporters, but I am a white guy, so the implications are somewhat different, (not that it's a competition for most wronged here)-- after she was invited to their dog's Bark Mitzvah (I know, funny, right?) and was mistaken for being a servant by some of her mother-in-law's friends which she--the mom-in-law--dismissed as not believable. Anyway, I know, you’re sick of all the Trump stuff, but I swear, you need to read it. Ouch-laughter stuff.
The illustrations are sort of like cut-out still life drawings, often pasted on photographs, depicting Jacobs and whoever she is talking to facing us, in tableaux-fashion, which sounds sort of stilted, I know, but even though many images are just pasted in again and again, I found the surface of them sort of ironic, understated and increasingly poignant in keeping with the humor/anguish. I don't see this as a "graphic memoir" as it is not comics, but who cares, it's still visually interesting. And the tone moves from that hilarity to raw anguish and back as we move through Trump American 2016. I love this book and so highly recommend it.