Interesting. The ambition peels off the page. I think this book was perhaps written to be an Educated-style memoir, to be read and discussed in a similar capacity. Like I felt like it was written to be discussed.
I feel like maybe I was looking for something other than what this book was intended to do. On the face this book is just recounting her first twenty-eight years or so, but I guess something in me refuses to see memoirs as “just that” because writing about yourself only is, in a way, so self-aggrandizing— there has to be another dimension to it. There are other dimensions to this book, primarily about the foster care system (really sad and worse than I realized, but I think wrt gender expression and sexual assault we’ve greatly improved over the decade) and about elite culture. I was pretty interested in the latter: how people who grew up in elite cultures look down on showing off; how people show off inadvertently; how your entry into elite culture can alienate you from others. And this whole nexus of messaging around work and loving your job and how that’s expressed between the arts and more “practical” occupations such as computer science/engineering, and how race, gender, class, and societal perceptions influence that. I felt like there was so much tension that she didn’t go very deeply into. But I also don’t know if that was the primary goal of the book. I guess if you were looking for the thematic arc, it’s a bit unfocused beyond “this is my life up till this point”. The mental state around “I have to be accepted into xyz or else” came across very clearly though, and I could deeply understand how this need to get to Harvard, to take the hardest classes, to get financial security, etc, came to be… even if I didn’t necessarily agree on all the points.
I have a lot of scattered thoughts about this but it’s impossible to put them all together right now, but I’ll book club this so maybe I’ll return to this later. I felt mainly that this book bounces between pure retrospection and reenactment, as in sometimes the narrative voice embodies the character she was at the time. Sometimes this took me out because obviously there’s a naïveté to the younger characters, especially when she’s describing her college application journey or her academic experience at Harvard, one that I found off-putting and didn’t get sufficient retrospective payoff. On a craft level, sometimes the good parts felt too good to be true. Like the rowing win— obviously it was a transformative, joyous experience, but I felt that the poignance would come through more if she leaned away from that a bit— especially because we didn’t really learn about any of the rowers before they’re mentioned by name. I felt like even as she critiqued this need to package yourself to get into elite spaces— Harvard, Google, etc— she was doing that, on the page, in this book. (Obviously some filtering always has to happen in nonfiction, but the writer’s work was apparent in enough areas that I started having these thoughts.) Then again, it’s so hard to critique nonfiction on these things because maybe my issue isn’t with the writing, it’s with the writer.