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Gentrifier: A Memoir
Taking on the thorny ethics of owning and selling property as a white woman in a majority Black city and a majority Bangladeshi neighborhood with both intelligence and humor, this memoir brings a new perspective to a Detroit that finds itself perpetually on the brink of revitalization.
In 2016, a Detroit arts organization grants writer and artist Anne Elizabeth Moore a free house--a room of her own, à la Virginia Woolf--in Detroit's majority-Bangladeshi "Banglatown." Accompanied by her cats, Moore moves to the bungalow in her new city where she gardens, befriends the neighborhood youth, and grows to intimately understand civic collapse and community solidarity. When the troubled history of her prize house comes to light, Moore finds her life destabilized by the aftershocks of the housing crisis and governmental corruption.
This is also a memoir of art, gender, work, and survival. Moore writes into the gaps of Woolf's declaration that "a woman must have money and a room of one's own if she is to write"; what if this woman were queer and living with chronic illness, as Moore is, or a South Asian immigrant, like Moore's neighbors? And what if her primary coping mechanism was jokes?
Part investigation, part comedy of a vexing city, and part love letter to girlhood, Gentrifier examines capitalism, property ownership, and whiteness, asking if we can ever really win when violence and profit are inextricably linked with victory.
In 2016, a Detroit arts organization grants writer and artist Anne Elizabeth Moore a free house--a room of her own, à la Virginia Woolf--in Detroit's majority-Bangladeshi "Banglatown." Accompanied by her cats, Moore moves to the bungalow in her new city where she gardens, befriends the neighborhood youth, and grows to intimately understand civic collapse and community solidarity. When the troubled history of her prize house comes to light, Moore finds her life destabilized by the aftershocks of the housing crisis and governmental corruption.
This is also a memoir of art, gender, work, and survival. Moore writes into the gaps of Woolf's declaration that "a woman must have money and a room of one's own if she is to write"; what if this woman were queer and living with chronic illness, as Moore is, or a South Asian immigrant, like Moore's neighbors? And what if her primary coping mechanism was jokes?
Part investigation, part comedy of a vexing city, and part love letter to girlhood, Gentrifier examines capitalism, property ownership, and whiteness, asking if we can ever really win when violence and profit are inextricably linked with victory.
272 pages, Hardcover
First published October 19, 2021
39 people are currently reading
3562 people want to read
About the author
Anne Elizabeth Moore
25 books143 followersAnne Elizabeth Moore is an award-winning cultural critic. The Fulbright scholar and Truthout columnist behind Ladydrawers: Gender and Media in the US is also the author of Unmarketable: Brandalism, Copyfighting, Mocketing, and the Erosion of Integrity (The New Press, 2007), Hey Kidz, Buy This Book (Soft Skull, 2004), Cambodian Grrrl (Cantankerous Titles, 2011), Hip Hop Apsara (Green Lantern Press, 2012) and New Girl Law (Cantankerous Titles, 2013). Co-editor and publisher of now-defunct Punk Planet, founding editor of the Best American Comics series from Houghton Mifflin, Moore teaches at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. She has worked with young women in Cambodia on independent media projects, and people of all ages and genders on media justice work in the US. Moore exhibits her work frequently as conceptual art, has been the subject of two documentary films, and has lectured around the world on independent media, globalization, and women’s labor issues. She has written for Al Jazeera, The Baffler, N+1, Good, Snap Judgment, Bitch, the Progressive, The Onion, Feministing, The Stranger, In These Times, The Boston Phoenix, and Tin House.
She has twice been noted in the Best American Non-Required Reading series. Her work with young women in Southeast Asia has been featured in Time Out Chicago, Make/Shift, Today’s Chicago Woman, Windy City Times, and Print magazines, and on GritTV, Radio Australia, and NPR’s Worldview.
Her friend (and one of her favorite fiction writers) Elizabeth Crane wrote a short story about Moore, and it was widely reviewed. Thus the Village Voice called her a “Possibly perfect protagonist”; Washington City Paper said she was “A woman who has always been comfortable in her own skin”; and Hipster Book Club said she was “A perfect altruistic punk-rock super-heroine.” She has appeared on CNN, GritTV, WBEZ, WNUR, WFMU, and Georgian television. Moore recently mounted a solo exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago.
In 2016, she was awarded the third permanent residency in Detroit's Write A house program and now lives in a Bengali community in Eastern Michigan.
She has twice been noted in the Best American Non-Required Reading series. Her work with young women in Southeast Asia has been featured in Time Out Chicago, Make/Shift, Today’s Chicago Woman, Windy City Times, and Print magazines, and on GritTV, Radio Australia, and NPR’s Worldview.
Her friend (and one of her favorite fiction writers) Elizabeth Crane wrote a short story about Moore, and it was widely reviewed. Thus the Village Voice called her a “Possibly perfect protagonist”; Washington City Paper said she was “A woman who has always been comfortable in her own skin”; and Hipster Book Club said she was “A perfect altruistic punk-rock super-heroine.” She has appeared on CNN, GritTV, WBEZ, WNUR, WFMU, and Georgian television. Moore recently mounted a solo exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago.
In 2016, she was awarded the third permanent residency in Detroit's Write A house program and now lives in a Bengali community in Eastern Michigan.
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July 1, 2022
I am a lifelong resident of Baltimore, a city that has a fair amount in common with Detroit so I was interested in reading this book.
I was really disappointed. She presents most of the stories as sort of vignettes without a lot of depth or discussion. This happened, this happened, this happened all broken into thematic sections. It’s not chronological which is fine but it is a little off-putting to read about a cat funeral and then have the cat alive and well in a later section. There was also very little about gentrification or the ethics of it in the book. Most of the book was literally about her house and block.
She complains early on about a street light that the neighborhood had asked the city to repair long before she moves in. They finally take care of it but while she admits that at least it’s a signal the city responds to something the residents want she feels to the need to share that it is too bright and therefore personally annoying to her. This seems insignificant but really sets a tone for a lot of the book. Buy some curtains! Choose a different bedroom! Way to make a systemic issue all about you.
She knows one of the conditions of the house program (she got the house for free if she lived there for two years as a writer) was that she not travel more than 30% of the year then talks about how this means she is unemployed for 8 months because she can’t work because her writing requires travel. Why did she accept the house under those conditions? It’s nonsensical. She spends a lot of time talking about how she gave up so much to move to Detroit for the free house. What did she think she was going to do there? If she can’t write in the house then why accept it? Did she think she had some work she could do and it fell through? She never really explains this.
She moves into the house without a formal inspection and eventually, she finds out that the roof is falling apart and the house isn’t up to code. She knows when she moves in the org removed (!) the steps to her attic because they didn’t have the funds to fix up the attic but this didn’t raise any red flags to her? The organization seems well-meaning but doesn’t seem to do its due diligence which is unfortunate but neither does she. The org should have taken care of the roof themselves but I also feel like she should have done the bare minimum of seeing if the house was safe to live in before she moved in? The roof replacement was expensive and I’m sorry she had to deal with that but homeownership is expensive. How did she think she was going to pay for any of it after the two years were up and she owned the house outright?
She seems interested in her largely Bengali neighbors only on her own terms. She describes how racist they are and how they can’t understand the word “band” (part of her cat’s quirky and unusual name, “Metal Band”) implying that they can’t grasp the concept of a band in nearly every section. We got the point the first time. Despite this, her neighbors seem to genuinely enjoy her. They bring her meals for holidays and even throw her a party when she sells the house and invite her to a family wedding even if she describes it as being “expected” to participate in rather than invited. The neighborhood children take walks with her and even do creative projects with her but she always seems to hold them apart from her. It’s odd because the neighborhood seems incredibly inviting to her, the outsider. They cook food for her cat! But she paints them as sort of mysterious and aloof, she doesn’t even give most of the adults' names, they are simply “neighbor girl”’s mother or father. The girls in the neighborhood were a real bright spot in this book. I hope she had permission to include so much about them as they were children at the time she lived there.
It’s not just her neighbors she had issues with. I found her repeated disdain for her students who she paints as unable to learn or understand basic concepts and uniformly sexist off-putting. She clearly shares the negative review of her teaching by her university because she feels it was unjust but it included the critique that she should teach the students information that she later tests them on. Did she not do that? Why did only one of her students do the assignment correctly for her art history class? Any teacher (or student) can tell you when the failure is that big it’s not the students, it’s you.
She tells us over and over again that people in Detroit do not read or know anything about books or writing. She makes 100 buttons to give out to anyone who reads and tells us she still has 30 left. She tells us she donates some books to a local school because they don’t have many. She talks about the lack of an arts scene in Detroit which seems off to me but she also doesn’t seem to be interested in contributing to it or actively seeking it out. She does start a reading program of some sort (she doesn’t share the details) but it ends because she says people don’t want to drive to it.
She includes a story about wanting to exchange euros for dollars at her local bank (something that in my limited experience, requires an appointment) to share that the teller had never seen a euro before and thought they were fake money. What was the point? To remind us she travels? To point out how dumb and backward bank workers in Detroit are?
Another story she shares with no comment—She wears a brightly colored paisley dress to the gas station and the man there remarks cheerfully that she “looks like a Pakistani woman” and that she gives him a “look of dismay” that he notices and then he says “I know you are really from Bangladesh”. What? Literally, what is supposed to be our takeaway here?
There is a whole section on her dating life (or lack thereof) where she tells us multiple times that men are constantly asking her out but she is uninterested. Everywhere she goes, it seems, men beg her for dates. I’m not sure why any of this was in the book? It didn’t seem to have much to do with anything. What was the point of including that a woman she knew in Cambodia who picked up one of the books the author wrote that had queer themes let it “seep into her interests” and inform her identity and that she is now married to a woman and heads up an international LGBTQ+ organization. Is she taking credit for this woman’s sexuality, marriage, and career? Relationships and sexuality are, of course, important but she didn’t really connect any of it to the rest of the book (besides the fact that she only chatted with a “source” through a dating app who ultimately didn’t give her the info she wanted) so it didn’t flow or add much value.
Unsurprisingly she decides to sell the house directly after her two years are up and that too is rife with problems. She is the owner but somehow she doesn’t realize the title isn’t clear and then that her name isn’t even on the title until later. Sure she’s a first-time homeowner via a funky program but she’s also, as she reminds us regularly, a very educated investigative journalist. Why didn’t she at any point do the bare minimum to see if the paperwork was in order or the house was up to code? She doesn’t understand the difference between a deed and a title until she is trying to sell. She was like a very inactive passenger in her own life. She only seems to become interested in the housing crisis in Detroit after she has lived there for two years and it really starts to affect her ability to sell the house while working on a comics project she mentions a fair amount yet without any detail.
The whole book was strange. She didn’t seem to like Detroit and the people she encountered were largely portrayed as stupid, racist, sexist, and uncultured. I’m truly baffled why she moved there, leaving what she calls a good job, which I feel like should have been explicitly addressed at some point. Part of this might be the odd writing style she chose where she presents little stories with little exposition. Then the reader is left with having to parse her word choice and the inclusion of these vignettes for meaning. Unfortunately, none of my conclusions are particularly positive.
I was really disappointed. She presents most of the stories as sort of vignettes without a lot of depth or discussion. This happened, this happened, this happened all broken into thematic sections. It’s not chronological which is fine but it is a little off-putting to read about a cat funeral and then have the cat alive and well in a later section. There was also very little about gentrification or the ethics of it in the book. Most of the book was literally about her house and block.
She complains early on about a street light that the neighborhood had asked the city to repair long before she moves in. They finally take care of it but while she admits that at least it’s a signal the city responds to something the residents want she feels to the need to share that it is too bright and therefore personally annoying to her. This seems insignificant but really sets a tone for a lot of the book. Buy some curtains! Choose a different bedroom! Way to make a systemic issue all about you.
She knows one of the conditions of the house program (she got the house for free if she lived there for two years as a writer) was that she not travel more than 30% of the year then talks about how this means she is unemployed for 8 months because she can’t work because her writing requires travel. Why did she accept the house under those conditions? It’s nonsensical. She spends a lot of time talking about how she gave up so much to move to Detroit for the free house. What did she think she was going to do there? If she can’t write in the house then why accept it? Did she think she had some work she could do and it fell through? She never really explains this.
She moves into the house without a formal inspection and eventually, she finds out that the roof is falling apart and the house isn’t up to code. She knows when she moves in the org removed (!) the steps to her attic because they didn’t have the funds to fix up the attic but this didn’t raise any red flags to her? The organization seems well-meaning but doesn’t seem to do its due diligence which is unfortunate but neither does she. The org should have taken care of the roof themselves but I also feel like she should have done the bare minimum of seeing if the house was safe to live in before she moved in? The roof replacement was expensive and I’m sorry she had to deal with that but homeownership is expensive. How did she think she was going to pay for any of it after the two years were up and she owned the house outright?
She seems interested in her largely Bengali neighbors only on her own terms. She describes how racist they are and how they can’t understand the word “band” (part of her cat’s quirky and unusual name, “Metal Band”) implying that they can’t grasp the concept of a band in nearly every section. We got the point the first time. Despite this, her neighbors seem to genuinely enjoy her. They bring her meals for holidays and even throw her a party when she sells the house and invite her to a family wedding even if she describes it as being “expected” to participate in rather than invited. The neighborhood children take walks with her and even do creative projects with her but she always seems to hold them apart from her. It’s odd because the neighborhood seems incredibly inviting to her, the outsider. They cook food for her cat! But she paints them as sort of mysterious and aloof, she doesn’t even give most of the adults' names, they are simply “neighbor girl”’s mother or father. The girls in the neighborhood were a real bright spot in this book. I hope she had permission to include so much about them as they were children at the time she lived there.
It’s not just her neighbors she had issues with. I found her repeated disdain for her students who she paints as unable to learn or understand basic concepts and uniformly sexist off-putting. She clearly shares the negative review of her teaching by her university because she feels it was unjust but it included the critique that she should teach the students information that she later tests them on. Did she not do that? Why did only one of her students do the assignment correctly for her art history class? Any teacher (or student) can tell you when the failure is that big it’s not the students, it’s you.
She tells us over and over again that people in Detroit do not read or know anything about books or writing. She makes 100 buttons to give out to anyone who reads and tells us she still has 30 left. She tells us she donates some books to a local school because they don’t have many. She talks about the lack of an arts scene in Detroit which seems off to me but she also doesn’t seem to be interested in contributing to it or actively seeking it out. She does start a reading program of some sort (she doesn’t share the details) but it ends because she says people don’t want to drive to it.
She includes a story about wanting to exchange euros for dollars at her local bank (something that in my limited experience, requires an appointment) to share that the teller had never seen a euro before and thought they were fake money. What was the point? To remind us she travels? To point out how dumb and backward bank workers in Detroit are?
Another story she shares with no comment—She wears a brightly colored paisley dress to the gas station and the man there remarks cheerfully that she “looks like a Pakistani woman” and that she gives him a “look of dismay” that he notices and then he says “I know you are really from Bangladesh”. What? Literally, what is supposed to be our takeaway here?
There is a whole section on her dating life (or lack thereof) where she tells us multiple times that men are constantly asking her out but she is uninterested. Everywhere she goes, it seems, men beg her for dates. I’m not sure why any of this was in the book? It didn’t seem to have much to do with anything. What was the point of including that a woman she knew in Cambodia who picked up one of the books the author wrote that had queer themes let it “seep into her interests” and inform her identity and that she is now married to a woman and heads up an international LGBTQ+ organization. Is she taking credit for this woman’s sexuality, marriage, and career? Relationships and sexuality are, of course, important but she didn’t really connect any of it to the rest of the book (besides the fact that she only chatted with a “source” through a dating app who ultimately didn’t give her the info she wanted) so it didn’t flow or add much value.
Unsurprisingly she decides to sell the house directly after her two years are up and that too is rife with problems. She is the owner but somehow she doesn’t realize the title isn’t clear and then that her name isn’t even on the title until later. Sure she’s a first-time homeowner via a funky program but she’s also, as she reminds us regularly, a very educated investigative journalist. Why didn’t she at any point do the bare minimum to see if the paperwork was in order or the house was up to code? She doesn’t understand the difference between a deed and a title until she is trying to sell. She was like a very inactive passenger in her own life. She only seems to become interested in the housing crisis in Detroit after she has lived there for two years and it really starts to affect her ability to sell the house while working on a comics project she mentions a fair amount yet without any detail.
The whole book was strange. She didn’t seem to like Detroit and the people she encountered were largely portrayed as stupid, racist, sexist, and uncultured. I’m truly baffled why she moved there, leaving what she calls a good job, which I feel like should have been explicitly addressed at some point. Part of this might be the odd writing style she chose where she presents little stories with little exposition. Then the reader is left with having to parse her word choice and the inclusion of these vignettes for meaning. Unfortunately, none of my conclusions are particularly positive.
August 19, 2021
Did not go deep enough. Her truthout cartoons on the foreclosure, blight and water crisis in Detroit are great. Unfortunately she didn't apply her own reporting rigor to her own life. Her bemoaning of Detroiters aversion to reading is particularly cringe.
January 17, 2022
3.5 stars
In 2016, a Detroit arts organization creates an innovating program: a writer-in-residence program … except after two years, the writer becomes the legal homeowner. The only stipulation is that in the those two years, the writer must live in the home 75% of the time and be willing to engage with the city’s literary community and be flexible with press/promotion.
For Anne Elizabeth Moore, the program is an experiment but also an incredible opportunity to become a homeowner as a person limited by income and health conditions. While this program seemed straightforward, it instead highlighted many unbelievable issues unresolved by Detroit and used to their advantage.
In the end, Moore’s free home ended up putting her $30,000 in debt (the program failed to mention the house barely met code and needed a new roof), and taking years to sell because the deed was actually in someone else’s name who she was unable to track down. While researching for her book, the author discovered her home had previously been illegally seized and sold for a profit. In fact, because of Detroit’s notoriously high property taxes and the shortfall created with population decline, the city illegally seized and sold hundreds of properties for a stunning profit to offset the loss.
An interesting story of Detroit, the home Moore was “given”, and the community she became part of.
For more reviews, visit www.rootsandreads.wordpress.com
In 2016, a Detroit arts organization creates an innovating program: a writer-in-residence program … except after two years, the writer becomes the legal homeowner. The only stipulation is that in the those two years, the writer must live in the home 75% of the time and be willing to engage with the city’s literary community and be flexible with press/promotion.
For Anne Elizabeth Moore, the program is an experiment but also an incredible opportunity to become a homeowner as a person limited by income and health conditions. While this program seemed straightforward, it instead highlighted many unbelievable issues unresolved by Detroit and used to their advantage.
In the end, Moore’s free home ended up putting her $30,000 in debt (the program failed to mention the house barely met code and needed a new roof), and taking years to sell because the deed was actually in someone else’s name who she was unable to track down. While researching for her book, the author discovered her home had previously been illegally seized and sold for a profit. In fact, because of Detroit’s notoriously high property taxes and the shortfall created with population decline, the city illegally seized and sold hundreds of properties for a stunning profit to offset the loss.
An interesting story of Detroit, the home Moore was “given”, and the community she became part of.
For more reviews, visit www.rootsandreads.wordpress.com
February 8, 2022
this author finds themselves to be the most important character in their story. this white author, in a city that she got a free house in that is mostly non-white people, in a book called gentrifier. and it’s not even a joke, to the extent that she talks about a Bangladesh child asking is she’s a famous writer before listing the accolades that of course make her a famous writer.
this was the most insufferable book i’ve ever read. DNF.
this was the most insufferable book i’ve ever read. DNF.
September 3, 2021
Houses in Detroit were being given away to writers! I remember the articles in the Detroit Free Press. On the surface, Write a House sounded like a great idea. All those empty houses in the city, why not? “It’s like a writer-in-residence program…only in this case we’re actually giving the writer the residence, forever,” an article in Publisher’s Weekly noted. The writers were given two years rent-free then handed the deed. All they had to do was to “engage with the literary community of Detroit,” live in the house 75% of the time, and pay insurance and taxes.
For Anne Elizabeth Moore, it meant a place of her own where she could settle down after years of traveling across the world.
But the reality fell short of the ideal. Out of her experience arose a book about her experience winning a house, adapting to Banglatown, discovering Detroit’s ‘come back’ was more hype than truth, and how the city balances their budget by selling the homes of people who owed back taxes.
It is not a pretty story, and yet Moore’s stories spurred plenty of laughs and included some heart-warming scenes.
The memoir is episodic, but I liked the mix. Light hearted stories about her cats and the hospitality of her Bengali neighbors intersperse the more serious and disturbing narratives. My favorite scenes were Moore’s interactions with the girls who lived across the street. The girls gave her insight into their lives as Moore expanded their understanding of the world.
Home ownership is costly. Moore’s ‘free house’ put her nearly $30,000 in debt, and when she decided to sell discovered the name on the deed was not her own.
I had read others on the Detroit foreclosure crisis, how occupied homes are ceased for back taxes, sometimes over a few hundred dollars, then sold at auction, and then resold again. Everyone making a profit off of another’s catastrophe, forcing people out of their family homes….and homeless. “Michigan is one of only twelve states that allows counties to profit from the sale of property seized in tax foreclosures,” Moore states. And, Detroit has one of the highest property tax rates in America. Of course, the population decline and resulting empty lots means lower income from property taxes, and the city had to raise the funds somehow….hence, selling off seized properties for a profit. She shares the hard numbers: a $22.5 million budget shortfall in 2014 was offset by the seizure and sale of homes!
Moore discovered that her house had been illegally seized and sold for a profit.
Moore loved her neighbors, but she did not love Detroit. It is not a positive portrait of the city. One that is, in some ways, well deserved.
For Anne Elizabeth Moore, it meant a place of her own where she could settle down after years of traveling across the world.
But the reality fell short of the ideal. Out of her experience arose a book about her experience winning a house, adapting to Banglatown, discovering Detroit’s ‘come back’ was more hype than truth, and how the city balances their budget by selling the homes of people who owed back taxes.
It is not a pretty story, and yet Moore’s stories spurred plenty of laughs and included some heart-warming scenes.
The memoir is episodic, but I liked the mix. Light hearted stories about her cats and the hospitality of her Bengali neighbors intersperse the more serious and disturbing narratives. My favorite scenes were Moore’s interactions with the girls who lived across the street. The girls gave her insight into their lives as Moore expanded their understanding of the world.
Home ownership is costly. Moore’s ‘free house’ put her nearly $30,000 in debt, and when she decided to sell discovered the name on the deed was not her own.
I had read others on the Detroit foreclosure crisis, how occupied homes are ceased for back taxes, sometimes over a few hundred dollars, then sold at auction, and then resold again. Everyone making a profit off of another’s catastrophe, forcing people out of their family homes….and homeless. “Michigan is one of only twelve states that allows counties to profit from the sale of property seized in tax foreclosures,” Moore states. And, Detroit has one of the highest property tax rates in America. Of course, the population decline and resulting empty lots means lower income from property taxes, and the city had to raise the funds somehow….hence, selling off seized properties for a profit. She shares the hard numbers: a $22.5 million budget shortfall in 2014 was offset by the seizure and sale of homes!
Moore discovered that her house had been illegally seized and sold for a profit.
Moore loved her neighbors, but she did not love Detroit. It is not a positive portrait of the city. One that is, in some ways, well deserved.
February 8, 2022
A white lady wins a free house in a Bangladeshi neighborhood in Detroit and complains about everything every step of the way. I was particularly disturbed and disappointed by how she continually centered herself in this story and tried to make herself the white savior of the block. I wish she centered her neighbors’ stories more than her own. They were by far the most interesting part of this story.
March 15, 2022
Funny, thoughtful and thought provoking short and sweet stories, filled with moments that are personal but speak to bigger issues...a book that touches on ways the world can be sad and outrageous, but rolls up its sleeves and carries on with heart and humor.
October 18, 2021
This book stood out to me because I haven’t seen many memoirs written about the feelings and emotions that come along with playing a part in gentrification. Moore is a white, female, writer who was gifted a house in Detroit by an association “giving away free houses” to authors who needed a good place to live especially while they worked on their writing. She tells about her experience in this process more through moments and less of a timeline which I enjoyed. She focused on facts as much as she focused on feelings and I think this really kept me interested in this story. She was good at recognizing that things, people, and actions can be good and bad at the same time which I think is super genuine. My favorite part was hearing about the conversations she would have with her neighbors and how these interactions Turned into full blown relationships.
May 10, 2021
One of the best types of books is the kind you read really quickly and then tell yourself that you need to re-read it, this time slowly. The book is hilarious and told in short vignettes, which makes it an easy read, but there is so much in it - gentrification of course, housing policy, racism, immigration, the concept of work. I had not heard of this author before and want to go look up her other books.
October 30, 2021
A timely and gorgeous exploration of home, culture, community, immigration, and so much more in this memoir of art, gender, work, and survival.
Looking for your next great read? How about author interviews, discussion questions, insights, writing prompts/inspiration, book lists, and more? Join me every week at www.leslielindsay.com|Always with a Book
I admit to falling in love with this book based on the eye-catching cover, the title alone, and of course, the fact that it is about a writer in a house. I mean, it hits on so many of my passions. But the love for this book isn't just superficial. I truly loved the story. GENTRIFIER: A Memoir by Anne Elizabeth Moore (Catapult, October 19 2021) is about a queer woman writer who is 'gifted' a house. The catch: you must live in Detroit for two years.
And one might wonder: what's wrong with Detroit? Growing up in St. Louis, I had a friend move away to the suburbs of Detroit. It wasn't a big deal. But it was the *suburbs.* And the qualifier: 'when I was growing up,' [read: a long time ago]. It's true, at it's height, Detroit, like St. Louis, even, was once a very hoppin' cool place. Factories were pumping out cars. It was lively and a vital to our economy. And then...what happened? I'm not exactly sure. Jobs were moved overseas because labor was cheaper. Company housing was boarded. Factories shuttered. Schools became derelict. The population grew more illiterate. It became less diversified. Then the housing crisis of 2008 and more recently, the coronavirus pandemic.
GENTRIFIER isn't *just* about that. It's about one writer woman's connection to the house, the community, her work, and also briefly, her autoimmune disease and her cats.
It is written in a spry, darkly humorous investigation, recollecting conversations and tidbits of her time at the Detroit house. GENTRIFIER is a quick read, but it's one of those books you might fly through initially, but hang on to it, because you'll want to go back and savor. The book is divided into sections: The House, The Neighborhood, The City, The Work...and so forth, and each section is anchored by a Virginia Woolf quote, which I quite enjoyed, having not really committed any of them to memory, other than the one about a woman who wants to write must have a room of her own.
Sections are short and snappy and do not flow in a chronological manner but sort of spiral and circle back. I personally really like this style, it helps me see the bigger picture and piece together themes and motifs, but that's just the kind of reader/writer I tend to be. Not everyone will appreciate this.
My favorite pieces of the story are those involving the conversations the author had with her neighbors and how those neighbors offered deep insights from unique vantage points (almost all were Bangladeshi/women).
But things do end with a bit of a twist and that became a bit of the investigative piece I am alluding to, but also, maybe the investigation was more personal and rooted in art.
I was reminded, in part, of the memoir, TENEMENTAL by Vikki Warner meets Erica Bauermeister's HOUSE LESSONS.
For all my reviews, including author interviews, please see: www.leslielindsay.com|Always with a Book.
Special thanks to the author and publisher for this review copy. All thoughts are my own.
Looking for your next great read? How about author interviews, discussion questions, insights, writing prompts/inspiration, book lists, and more? Join me every week at www.leslielindsay.com|Always with a Book
I admit to falling in love with this book based on the eye-catching cover, the title alone, and of course, the fact that it is about a writer in a house. I mean, it hits on so many of my passions. But the love for this book isn't just superficial. I truly loved the story. GENTRIFIER: A Memoir by Anne Elizabeth Moore (Catapult, October 19 2021) is about a queer woman writer who is 'gifted' a house. The catch: you must live in Detroit for two years.
And one might wonder: what's wrong with Detroit? Growing up in St. Louis, I had a friend move away to the suburbs of Detroit. It wasn't a big deal. But it was the *suburbs.* And the qualifier: 'when I was growing up,' [read: a long time ago]. It's true, at it's height, Detroit, like St. Louis, even, was once a very hoppin' cool place. Factories were pumping out cars. It was lively and a vital to our economy. And then...what happened? I'm not exactly sure. Jobs were moved overseas because labor was cheaper. Company housing was boarded. Factories shuttered. Schools became derelict. The population grew more illiterate. It became less diversified. Then the housing crisis of 2008 and more recently, the coronavirus pandemic.
GENTRIFIER isn't *just* about that. It's about one writer woman's connection to the house, the community, her work, and also briefly, her autoimmune disease and her cats.
It is written in a spry, darkly humorous investigation, recollecting conversations and tidbits of her time at the Detroit house. GENTRIFIER is a quick read, but it's one of those books you might fly through initially, but hang on to it, because you'll want to go back and savor. The book is divided into sections: The House, The Neighborhood, The City, The Work...and so forth, and each section is anchored by a Virginia Woolf quote, which I quite enjoyed, having not really committed any of them to memory, other than the one about a woman who wants to write must have a room of her own.
Sections are short and snappy and do not flow in a chronological manner but sort of spiral and circle back. I personally really like this style, it helps me see the bigger picture and piece together themes and motifs, but that's just the kind of reader/writer I tend to be. Not everyone will appreciate this.
My favorite pieces of the story are those involving the conversations the author had with her neighbors and how those neighbors offered deep insights from unique vantage points (almost all were Bangladeshi/women).
But things do end with a bit of a twist and that became a bit of the investigative piece I am alluding to, but also, maybe the investigation was more personal and rooted in art.
I was reminded, in part, of the memoir, TENEMENTAL by Vikki Warner meets Erica Bauermeister's HOUSE LESSONS.
For all my reviews, including author interviews, please see: www.leslielindsay.com|Always with a Book.
Special thanks to the author and publisher for this review copy. All thoughts are my own.
January 3, 2022
”It can be a nightmare to be publicly awarded a free house.” Anne Elizabeth Moore’s memoir begins with a fascinating premise but fails to realize all the themes she introduces.
Told in a series of non-chronological vignettes, Moore introduces us to herself, her Bengali neighborhood, and the city of Detroit. It’s a quick read that contains many funny, warm moments. Yet, the non-linear plot can be frustrating; moments that appear later in the book link back to old ones that would have been more satisfying if they appeared in order.
I also enjoyed the later sections when Moore really chews into the incompetence of the local Detroit government and the shameful system they use to foreclose homes on innocent residents. These moments appear throughout the book and are also among her sharpest.
But I’m let down most on the promise that this book would be about gentrification. Moore does not prove to be a “gentrifier” — if anything the neighborhood starts on that path after she leaves.
While there were insights and relationships she built with her Bengali neighbours that were joyful and heartwarming, there were also equally many paragraphs spent being judgemental about how others in Detroit live. (Including frequent reminders about the lack of reading among the residents which were… cringey).
Gentrifier was a mixed bag; a quick read with witty moments that I enjoyed and insights about how institutions entrench poverty — but with a tone that was, at times, eye-roll inducing and a structure that could be clearer.
Told in a series of non-chronological vignettes, Moore introduces us to herself, her Bengali neighborhood, and the city of Detroit. It’s a quick read that contains many funny, warm moments. Yet, the non-linear plot can be frustrating; moments that appear later in the book link back to old ones that would have been more satisfying if they appeared in order.
I also enjoyed the later sections when Moore really chews into the incompetence of the local Detroit government and the shameful system they use to foreclose homes on innocent residents. These moments appear throughout the book and are also among her sharpest.
But I’m let down most on the promise that this book would be about gentrification. Moore does not prove to be a “gentrifier” — if anything the neighborhood starts on that path after she leaves.
While there were insights and relationships she built with her Bengali neighbours that were joyful and heartwarming, there were also equally many paragraphs spent being judgemental about how others in Detroit live. (Including frequent reminders about the lack of reading among the residents which were… cringey).
Gentrifier was a mixed bag; a quick read with witty moments that I enjoyed and insights about how institutions entrench poverty — but with a tone that was, at times, eye-roll inducing and a structure that could be clearer.
August 5, 2023
Loved reading this - lots of interesting observations from a writer who was “gifted” a free house in Hamtramck, Detroit.
“We have few ways of talking about the nuances of housing crisis in America. so the term “gentrification” often stands in for larger questions about affordable housing, policies of segregation, the displacement of folks of color, nonexistent safety nets for people in poverty, areas with substantial immigrant populations, faulty urban development programs, neighborhood investment, and plain old bad governance. On top of which, let’s be clear: white folks moving into communities of color often, if not always, signals trouble…. My role as a gentrifier is also complicated by the house itself, which I am told stood empty for eight years before I move into it. It wasn’t selling, organization assures me. Not to Bengalis, not to white folks, not to anyone at all. If gentrification is the replacement of lower income residents of a home by middle-class ones, or of folks of color by white folks, or of immigrants but non-immigrants, is it possible if there’s no competition for housing?”
“We have few ways of talking about the nuances of housing crisis in America. so the term “gentrification” often stands in for larger questions about affordable housing, policies of segregation, the displacement of folks of color, nonexistent safety nets for people in poverty, areas with substantial immigrant populations, faulty urban development programs, neighborhood investment, and plain old bad governance. On top of which, let’s be clear: white folks moving into communities of color often, if not always, signals trouble…. My role as a gentrifier is also complicated by the house itself, which I am told stood empty for eight years before I move into it. It wasn’t selling, organization assures me. Not to Bengalis, not to white folks, not to anyone at all. If gentrification is the replacement of lower income residents of a home by middle-class ones, or of folks of color by white folks, or of immigrants but non-immigrants, is it possible if there’s no competition for housing?”
November 12, 2021
I learned so much! Also, I kept wondering how the author would end this book, and it ended beautifully, powerfully. Well done.
June 10, 2021
**This book was provided to me by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for a fair and honest review.**
A highly engaging and readable memoir.
Told in short, digestible vignettes, Gentrifier recounts the experience of the author after being “gifted” a “free” house in an underserved neighborhood in Detroit. Both Moore’s personal experience and the history of the house itself turn out to be more complicated, particularly within the broader American and Detroit-centric history of race, class, and power, than initially meets the eye.
What I particularly like about the memoir is that it knows when to pull back. My favorite vignettes concern the children in Moore’s neighborhood, particularly Nishat and Sadia, and the friendship Moore forms with them. A lesser writer would take this opportunity to reflect upon her own contributions to the girls’ lives; instead, Moore lets the girls speak through their own words and actions, and does away with any self-indulgent or self-centering reflection. She peppers in historical data when necessary, but this book isn’t a history of redlining or immigration or gentrification on a large scale—merely one woman’s, and “her” house’s, rather conflicted roles within it.
A highly engaging and readable memoir.
Told in short, digestible vignettes, Gentrifier recounts the experience of the author after being “gifted” a “free” house in an underserved neighborhood in Detroit. Both Moore’s personal experience and the history of the house itself turn out to be more complicated, particularly within the broader American and Detroit-centric history of race, class, and power, than initially meets the eye.
What I particularly like about the memoir is that it knows when to pull back. My favorite vignettes concern the children in Moore’s neighborhood, particularly Nishat and Sadia, and the friendship Moore forms with them. A lesser writer would take this opportunity to reflect upon her own contributions to the girls’ lives; instead, Moore lets the girls speak through their own words and actions, and does away with any self-indulgent or self-centering reflection. She peppers in historical data when necessary, but this book isn’t a history of redlining or immigration or gentrification on a large scale—merely one woman’s, and “her” house’s, rather conflicted roles within it.
Read
February 3, 2022Gentrifier - The title intrigued me. As a white woman who has spent the past ~15 years moving around the US, almost always living in gentrifying neighborhoods - I felt compelled to read this memoir.
The author is given a free home in Detroit as part of a program for artists. The story details the varied (positive & negative) experiences she has when moving into a home in a primarily Bengali neighborhood during an extremely dark time in Detroit's history.
Some include: dealing with utterly failing government unable to provide even basic services to its residents (utilities, schools, legal support, etc) to racism within her new community, to various gender stereotypes and even the restrictions put on her as the winner of this free home.
I found the story itself interesting - however I personally found the writing hard to follow. It is written in short bits and jumps around various topics and timelines. Almost as if it is a journal of scattered thoughts. Some may find this appealing/endearing - however for me it was difficult to follow.
Overall I would recommend this as a read to those that want to learn a bit more about an immigrant communities perspectives as well as what it was like to live in Detroit during its darkest days.
Thank you to NetGalley & the publisher for my gifted advance copy..
The author is given a free home in Detroit as part of a program for artists. The story details the varied (positive & negative) experiences she has when moving into a home in a primarily Bengali neighborhood during an extremely dark time in Detroit's history.
Some include: dealing with utterly failing government unable to provide even basic services to its residents (utilities, schools, legal support, etc) to racism within her new community, to various gender stereotypes and even the restrictions put on her as the winner of this free home.
I found the story itself interesting - however I personally found the writing hard to follow. It is written in short bits and jumps around various topics and timelines. Almost as if it is a journal of scattered thoughts. Some may find this appealing/endearing - however for me it was difficult to follow.
Overall I would recommend this as a read to those that want to learn a bit more about an immigrant communities perspectives as well as what it was like to live in Detroit during its darkest days.
Thank you to NetGalley & the publisher for my gifted advance copy..
July 24, 2022
this book was sooooo interesting, well written, and thought provoking! I vaguely remember hearing about free houses in Detroit but didn't know anything else about that program or actually Detroit. I loved the writing style; the way everything would loop together instead of being written linearly. I personally like that style of writing and loved the short vignettes. My favorite parts where about the teen girls she met and watching them grow up with her. I liked Moore's realization she is part of the problem of gentrification and where she went from there and I loved the ending.
February 22, 2022
I really wanted to love this book and was excited to read about the city I considered “close to home”. Unfortunately, this author’s privilege, condescending tone, and outright pretentious anecdotes are insulting. It’s almost like she’s taken pieces of things she’s heard or researched about the city or cultural nuances and wrote it down on a napkin to include as a snippet.
She portrays her neighbors as characters to be made a joke of, and the way she mentions over and over the lack of value toward education/reading shows how out of touch she is, or just how privileged her life is.
She portrays her neighbors as characters to be made a joke of, and the way she mentions over and over the lack of value toward education/reading shows how out of touch she is, or just how privileged her life is.
August 24, 2023
The illusion of depth and empathy but I actually found this rude and lazy
January 7, 2022
This memoir introduces Moore, an accomplished journalist and writer, as she wins a free house in Detroit. As a writer, Moore is delighted for the chance of owning her own home, something she likely couldn't do with her income; she just has to live in Detroit for two years and it's hers. What could go wrong?
Writing this memoir is Moore's attempt to salvage what becomes an isolating and unsettling experience for her. There are moments of beauty and joy as she befriends her neighbors, Bangladeshi immigrants; they invite her into their homes and their lives, and she realizes that community is who shows up for you. The city might struggle to support its citizens, but her neighbors come together to turn empty lots into badminton courts, to celebrate Eid, to share unused goods in another lot. When the water turns off, Moore can count on her neighbors to share theirs; when the internet goes out, she has people to turn to, to complain with.
Despite their warm welcome, Moore feels alone. Her whole life revolves around writing and reading, but her classes are criticized for encouraging students to think critically, her library is never open, her bookstore won't sell her books, no one will attend her zine-making workshops, and she can't even buy bookshelves for her books. Eventually the internet completely shuts down and she can't work. She can't find anyone to date, and is constantly harassed by men she doesn't know. The prize needs her to stay in Detroit for at least 70% of the two years, which means she can't leave to earn money or see her friends. One of her beloved cats dies.
Towards the end of her time in Detroit, she decides to stay and buy the house, but learns that it was actually seized from a previous owner. In perhaps the most compelling section of the book, Moore describes how the local government relies on wildly inflated property taxes to seize homes, making money off of the foreclosures by selling them to new and often predatory owners. During the pandemic, Detroit used money that should have helped struggling homeowners and used it instead to knock down recently seized houses (that people only recently left). The city claims that knocking down these homes prevents "blight" -- that by knocking down unwanted homes, it will bring more people to the neighborhood -- but really the government is cruelly evicting low-income residents who want to stay, destroying the tenuous community that was there, and earning a fortune in the process. Moore decides to leave Detroit. After spending $20k to fix what was not actually her house, but becomes her house through a challenging legal process, she decides to sell it to a Bangladeshi family. She gets a full-time job in another city. End of book.
I really enjoyed this book; I liked how Moore structured it, in short, charming reflections on her life, interspersed with more serious tidbits. I often laughed at the small details she shared, and cried at her cat funeral. She made her neighborhood come to life, populating her world with her neighbors and her cats. I would have liked if the story proceeded in chronological order -- it jumps around, confusingly, in my opinion.
I think my biggest criticism of this book is that it tried to be a memoir with a chapter on government incompetence & greed stuck at the end. Both parts were amazing, but I don't know if Moore did a great job of linking them, especially since the book opens with this declaration of how it will examine the terrible burden of the house. It felt like she lived her life, was really lonely, then wanted to buy the house, and suddenly realized she was somewhat culpable in the wild government mismanagement. Throughout the book she reflects on the role that her race, class, and disability status play in her experience, but I felt like she kind of let herself off the hook for her role in this process. Essentially she wants to buy the house after two years, having spent a lot of money fixing the roof, then realizes that someone else had to be evicted for the government to give it to her. She seems to try half-heartedly to find this person, and ends up transferring the title to her name, then giving up on living in Detroit and reselling it for less money to the Bangladeshi family. Each decision is fraught, which I understand, but I wish that she'd tried harder to find the former owner. I also felt like her decision to leave was not adequately explored, nor did she reflect on her connections with her neighbors. After 3/4 of the book describing her relationship with these families, she suddenly uproots in a few months, with apparently little consequence. These decisions clearly reflect her own privilege, her values, and how they are interacting with those of the city; but all of this is mysteriously not explored. Was she about to miss her deadline? Did she just give up on Detroit? I wanted Moore to not just gesture at all of this wreckage, but go deeper in exploring it, to make clear what her thoughts were on her own role, to say goodbye to her neighbors, to Detroit, to whatever she left behind in the process.
Writing this memoir is Moore's attempt to salvage what becomes an isolating and unsettling experience for her. There are moments of beauty and joy as she befriends her neighbors, Bangladeshi immigrants; they invite her into their homes and their lives, and she realizes that community is who shows up for you. The city might struggle to support its citizens, but her neighbors come together to turn empty lots into badminton courts, to celebrate Eid, to share unused goods in another lot. When the water turns off, Moore can count on her neighbors to share theirs; when the internet goes out, she has people to turn to, to complain with.
Despite their warm welcome, Moore feels alone. Her whole life revolves around writing and reading, but her classes are criticized for encouraging students to think critically, her library is never open, her bookstore won't sell her books, no one will attend her zine-making workshops, and she can't even buy bookshelves for her books. Eventually the internet completely shuts down and she can't work. She can't find anyone to date, and is constantly harassed by men she doesn't know. The prize needs her to stay in Detroit for at least 70% of the two years, which means she can't leave to earn money or see her friends. One of her beloved cats dies.
Towards the end of her time in Detroit, she decides to stay and buy the house, but learns that it was actually seized from a previous owner. In perhaps the most compelling section of the book, Moore describes how the local government relies on wildly inflated property taxes to seize homes, making money off of the foreclosures by selling them to new and often predatory owners. During the pandemic, Detroit used money that should have helped struggling homeowners and used it instead to knock down recently seized houses (that people only recently left). The city claims that knocking down these homes prevents "blight" -- that by knocking down unwanted homes, it will bring more people to the neighborhood -- but really the government is cruelly evicting low-income residents who want to stay, destroying the tenuous community that was there, and earning a fortune in the process. Moore decides to leave Detroit. After spending $20k to fix what was not actually her house, but becomes her house through a challenging legal process, she decides to sell it to a Bangladeshi family. She gets a full-time job in another city. End of book.
I really enjoyed this book; I liked how Moore structured it, in short, charming reflections on her life, interspersed with more serious tidbits. I often laughed at the small details she shared, and cried at her cat funeral. She made her neighborhood come to life, populating her world with her neighbors and her cats. I would have liked if the story proceeded in chronological order -- it jumps around, confusingly, in my opinion.
I think my biggest criticism of this book is that it tried to be a memoir with a chapter on government incompetence & greed stuck at the end. Both parts were amazing, but I don't know if Moore did a great job of linking them, especially since the book opens with this declaration of how it will examine the terrible burden of the house. It felt like she lived her life, was really lonely, then wanted to buy the house, and suddenly realized she was somewhat culpable in the wild government mismanagement. Throughout the book she reflects on the role that her race, class, and disability status play in her experience, but I felt like she kind of let herself off the hook for her role in this process. Essentially she wants to buy the house after two years, having spent a lot of money fixing the roof, then realizes that someone else had to be evicted for the government to give it to her. She seems to try half-heartedly to find this person, and ends up transferring the title to her name, then giving up on living in Detroit and reselling it for less money to the Bangladeshi family. Each decision is fraught, which I understand, but I wish that she'd tried harder to find the former owner. I also felt like her decision to leave was not adequately explored, nor did she reflect on her connections with her neighbors. After 3/4 of the book describing her relationship with these families, she suddenly uproots in a few months, with apparently little consequence. These decisions clearly reflect her own privilege, her values, and how they are interacting with those of the city; but all of this is mysteriously not explored. Was she about to miss her deadline? Did she just give up on Detroit? I wanted Moore to not just gesture at all of this wreckage, but go deeper in exploring it, to make clear what her thoughts were on her own role, to say goodbye to her neighbors, to Detroit, to whatever she left behind in the process.
January 14, 2023
A thoughtful memoir about property ownership, community building, and structural inequality. I had no idea what to expect going into this and ended up appreciating it a lot, particularly as a new homeowner myself.
After being awarded a free house in Detroit through an organizational initiative that sounds (and ultimately is) too good to be true, Anne Elizabeth Moore has to figure out whether she can create a life for herself in a new and sometimes challenging city environment. This memoir is written as a series of vignettes, and I enjoyed the snippets about the author getting to know her neighbors, struggling with her position in the broader community, confronting an immovable maze of red tape in every interaction with the local government, and quickly realizing the predatory nature of the organization that awarded her the home. Her story provides an interesting window into really big themes of class, race, capitalism, and the often hollow nature of the “American dream” of property ownership. And I just loved all the anecdotes about the neighbor girls, who are funny and vibrant and full of life.
I did wonder what someone with more of a personal connection to Detroit would think of some of her characterizations of the city. There were some observations that seemed a little over the top, like constantly bemoaning the fact that no one in Detroit reads books. But I don’t know anything about what Detroit is like so I can’t really assess!
After being awarded a free house in Detroit through an organizational initiative that sounds (and ultimately is) too good to be true, Anne Elizabeth Moore has to figure out whether she can create a life for herself in a new and sometimes challenging city environment. This memoir is written as a series of vignettes, and I enjoyed the snippets about the author getting to know her neighbors, struggling with her position in the broader community, confronting an immovable maze of red tape in every interaction with the local government, and quickly realizing the predatory nature of the organization that awarded her the home. Her story provides an interesting window into really big themes of class, race, capitalism, and the often hollow nature of the “American dream” of property ownership. And I just loved all the anecdotes about the neighbor girls, who are funny and vibrant and full of life.
I did wonder what someone with more of a personal connection to Detroit would think of some of her characterizations of the city. There were some observations that seemed a little over the top, like constantly bemoaning the fact that no one in Detroit reads books. But I don’t know anything about what Detroit is like so I can’t really assess!
December 14, 2021
I've been a fan of Anne Elizabeth Moore's writing for several years now, but that didn't prepare me for how much I enjoyed this book. I couldn't put it down. The vignettes structure of the memoir felt like reading postcards or short letters from Anne - "Hi! you wouldn't believe the crazy thing that happened this week...".
I found myself relating quite a bit to the pieces regarding alienation, displacement and what truly makes a place 'home'. Having recently relocated to a new city at a certain stage in life, I took comfort in the fact how she gave contours and definition to the myriad and at times, conflicting emotions I feel about what makes a place home or a community.
Lastly, her statistical indictment of the injustices that so many Detroiters face on a daily basis, illuminating a struggle for survival for the residents that totally flips the narrative of detroit as this comeback city, when in fact it is engaging in a sort of civic strangulation of its residents' basic human rights - clean water, reliable municipal services and most importantly and devastatingly, an education - as Moore points out that nearly 1/2 of Detroiters are functionally illiterate.
I found myself relating quite a bit to the pieces regarding alienation, displacement and what truly makes a place 'home'. Having recently relocated to a new city at a certain stage in life, I took comfort in the fact how she gave contours and definition to the myriad and at times, conflicting emotions I feel about what makes a place home or a community.
Lastly, her statistical indictment of the injustices that so many Detroiters face on a daily basis, illuminating a struggle for survival for the residents that totally flips the narrative of detroit as this comeback city, when in fact it is engaging in a sort of civic strangulation of its residents' basic human rights - clean water, reliable municipal services and most importantly and devastatingly, an education - as Moore points out that nearly 1/2 of Detroiters are functionally illiterate.
August 31, 2021
Detroit, Michigan has fallen on hard times in the 21st century. The Motor City had a plethora of decrepit houses they were trying to rehab and then “give” away. Moore applied for one of those free houses and lived in it for two years. Those experiences are the basis for her her book. Of course, nothin this ever free as she finds out and chapters are devoted to her legal battles to gain title to the house. The parts I was most interested in were her neighbors. A delightful cast of characters made the book come alive. It’s an interesting story of urban renewal and hope for a once declining area. Thanks to Catapult and NetGalley for the early read.
November 18, 2021
This was sort of written like a stream of consciousness. One paragraph would be about cleaning out the backyard of mulberry trees and the next about shopping for groceries and men asking her out. It doesn't sound that bad when I write it but it was oftentimes so jarring that I kept thinking I skipped a page.
Interestingly, the only people in the neighborhood she mentions by name, and those she seems to be the closest to, are the children. Some teens, some younger. All the parents are referred to as "Sadia's" mother, etc. The neighbors seemed like the most interesting part of the entire story and i would have liked to learn more about them and less about the author's autoimmune disorders.
Interestingly, the only people in the neighborhood she mentions by name, and those she seems to be the closest to, are the children. Some teens, some younger. All the parents are referred to as "Sadia's" mother, etc. The neighbors seemed like the most interesting part of the entire story and i would have liked to learn more about them and less about the author's autoimmune disorders.
October 22, 2021
Brilliant and painful
For someone who only lived in Detroit for a couple years, Anne has done an amazing of capturing the real Detroit. It isn't the hellhole of ruin porn and it isn't the Great American Renaissance. It is a place that needs to be treated as Anne treats it. I'm glad she lived in Detroit. I'm glad she doesn't have to live here anymore.
For someone who only lived in Detroit for a couple years, Anne has done an amazing of capturing the real Detroit. It isn't the hellhole of ruin porn and it isn't the Great American Renaissance. It is a place that needs to be treated as Anne treats it. I'm glad she lived in Detroit. I'm glad she doesn't have to live here anymore.
November 27, 2024
weird to write a whole memoir about complicity in gentrification but sound this condescending throughout it. interesting insights to the role government plays in gentrification, but it feels like those insights were mostly included bc she was frustrated her privilege didn’t work the way she wanted it to.
October 24, 2021
Provocative memoir that describes the author’s cultural positioning and complicity in gentrification (among other things) in very genuine reflective vignettes. At first the short pieces seemed choppy/disjointed, but became more conversational as I got used to Moore’s writing style. Really compelling telling of a complicated story!
August 22, 2022
felt very surface level
March 29, 2024
3.5 rounded down, i enjoyed the writing but ultimately expected to come out with more of an understanding of gentrification
May 6, 2024
2.5 rounded up because the story is interesting. unfortunately her tone is super condescending
December 13, 2021
A stream of consciousness regarding the author’s emotional experience interwoven with statistics and research. While sometimes I cringed at some of the author’s decisions and statements, I appreciated the honesty. As someone who grew up very close to Detroit without any knowledge of some of the things happening there, this book has piqued my interest (and outrage) in learning how a city becomes something like Detroit.
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