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At the Bottom of the River
At the Bottom of the River is Jamaica Kincaid's first published work, a selection of inter-connected prose poems told from the perspective of a young Afro-Caribbean girl.
Collecting pieces written for the New Yorker and the Paris Review between 1978 and 1982, including the seminal 'Girl', these stunning works announced a fully-formed, generational talent and firmly established the themes that Kincaid would continue to return to in her later work: the loss of childhood, the fractious nature of mother-daughter relationships, the intangible beauty of the natural world, and the striving for independence in a colonial landscape.
Powerful and lyrical, this is an unforgettable collection from a unique and necessary literary voice.
Part of the Picador Collection, a new series showcasing the best of modern literature.
Collecting pieces written for the New Yorker and the Paris Review between 1978 and 1982, including the seminal 'Girl', these stunning works announced a fully-formed, generational talent and firmly established the themes that Kincaid would continue to return to in her later work: the loss of childhood, the fractious nature of mother-daughter relationships, the intangible beauty of the natural world, and the striving for independence in a colonial landscape.
Powerful and lyrical, this is an unforgettable collection from a unique and necessary literary voice.
Part of the Picador Collection, a new series showcasing the best of modern literature.
82 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1983
108 people are currently reading
3786 people want to read
About the author
Jamaica Kincaid
81 books1,805 followersJamaica Kincaid is an Antiguan-American novelist, essayist, gardener, and gardening writer. She was born in St. John's, Antigua (part of the twin-island nation of Antigua and Barbuda). She lives in North Bennington, Vermont (in the United States), during the summers, and is Professor of African and African American Studies in Residence at Harvard University during the academic year.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 348 reviews
July 2, 2020
Beautiful short stories that have a dream-like quality to them. Mostly an exploration of mother-daughter relationships and relations to home. Kincaid's writing where every punctuation and word are part of the intricate work is wonderful discovery. Strange how reading her feels like sighing, that sigh after a nice cold drink on a hot day. In admiration of how she is able to achieve so much with such few words.
January 9, 2019
3.5 stars
My first read for #abreadsaroundtheworld this year and I travelled to Antigua & Barbuda with Jamaica Kincaid!
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At the Bottom of the River is a collection of intertwined short stories, eight out of ten of which deal with mother-daughter themes, and the daughter’s struggle to free herself from the dominating power pf the mother, as Kincaid often draws on her experiences with her own mother. More than anything, this collection made me want to read her longer works where she no doubt delves more thoroughly into these themes, as I feel like a short story barely scratches the surface!
It opens with the shortest and arguably my favourite story - a litany of rules and warnings given to a young girl in the Caribbean by her mother, delivered in one breathless sentence spanning three pages punctuated by semicolons. Straight away we’re plunged into the deluge of rules and expectations our young Afro-Caribbean protagonist has to uphold, setting the tone for the rest of the stories, most of which see a young female protagonist attempt to liberate herself from her mother’s power.
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My other favourites were Wingless, A Letter from Home, At Last and My Mother - again, featuring power struggles but also finding something special in the mundanity of everyday life and objects. The others were interesting enough, but as I mentioned before, not quite long enough to be especially memorable for me.
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I’ll definitely be on the lookout for more Kincaid, and can recommend this one for anyone interested in mother-daughter relationships!
My first read for #abreadsaroundtheworld this year and I travelled to Antigua & Barbuda with Jamaica Kincaid!
.
At the Bottom of the River is a collection of intertwined short stories, eight out of ten of which deal with mother-daughter themes, and the daughter’s struggle to free herself from the dominating power pf the mother, as Kincaid often draws on her experiences with her own mother. More than anything, this collection made me want to read her longer works where she no doubt delves more thoroughly into these themes, as I feel like a short story barely scratches the surface!
It opens with the shortest and arguably my favourite story - a litany of rules and warnings given to a young girl in the Caribbean by her mother, delivered in one breathless sentence spanning three pages punctuated by semicolons. Straight away we’re plunged into the deluge of rules and expectations our young Afro-Caribbean protagonist has to uphold, setting the tone for the rest of the stories, most of which see a young female protagonist attempt to liberate herself from her mother’s power.
.
My other favourites were Wingless, A Letter from Home, At Last and My Mother - again, featuring power struggles but also finding something special in the mundanity of everyday life and objects. The others were interesting enough, but as I mentioned before, not quite long enough to be especially memorable for me.
.
I’ll definitely be on the lookout for more Kincaid, and can recommend this one for anyone interested in mother-daughter relationships!
April 12, 2015
It was great to finally read Girl, the story that is like a thread through all of Kincaid's writing and one she continues to talk about today.
I enjoyed all the stories, though prefer he style in the long form, where we have time to settle into it, it requires more concentration in the short form and sometimes rereading to get into the flow.
I enjoyed all the stories, though prefer he style in the long form, where we have time to settle into it, it requires more concentration in the short form and sometimes rereading to get into the flow.
November 13, 2019
Jamaica Kincaid is a word witch, a sentence sorceress. At the Bottom of the River is a collection of her short stories in the form of prose poetry. It is composed of stories that first appeared in The New Yorker and The Paris Review between 1978 and 1983. My three favourite stories in the collection are “Girl,” “In the Night,” and “My Mother.”
“Girl” is a list of a Caribbean mother’s instructions to her daughter on how to perform household chores and behave like a “lady”:
“Always eat your food in such a way that it won’t turn someone else’s stomach; on Sundays try to walk like a lady and not like the slut you are so bent on becoming; don’t sing benna in Sunday school; you mustn’t speak to wharf-rat boys, not even to give directions . . .” (p. 3)
The litany of the mother’s instructions is interrupted only twice by her daughter’s feeble attempts to defend herself. The story is humorous, but it also shows the incredible amount of power the mother figure exerts over her daughter. The daughter is clearly expected to conform to rigid rules and do a great deal of domestic labour in order to satisfy her mother’s expectations and be a “good” girl. Beneath the surface humour lies a not-so-subtle tyranny.
To me, the most beautiful story in the collection is “In the Night.” It doesn’t have a plot; it’s up to the reader to make connections between the various word images. The story is populated by ghosts and other supernatural creatures: “The night-soil men can see a bird walking in trees. It isn’t a bird. It is a woman who has removed her skin and is on her way to drink the blood of her secret enemies.” (p. 6)
In the last part of the story, the narrator expresses a desire to marry a woman when she grows up:
“Now I am a girl, but one day I will marry a woman—a red-skin woman with black bramblebush hair and brown eyes, who wears skirts that are so big I can easily bury my head in them. I would like to marry this woman and live with her in a mud hut near the sea. . . . This woman I would like to marry knows many things, but to me she will only tell about things that would never dream of making me cry; and every night, over and over, she will tell me something that begins, ‘Before you were born.’ I will marry a woman like this, and every night, every night, I will be completely happy.” (p. 11–12)
The woman the narrator wants to marry is a fantasy amalgam of mother, friend, and lover. This passage expresses a longing to return to being a little girl with one’s mother and remaining in that idyllic state forever.
“My Mother” is a mythical story composed of a series of dreamlike scenes. It’s about two goddesses: a teenage girl and her mother. These goddess creatures are able to change form in the blink of an eye, becoming snakelike creatures (“I too traveled along on my white underbelly, my tongue darting and flickering in the hot air,” p. 55) or super tall and powerful (My mother has grown to an enormous height. I have grown to an enormous height also, but my mother’s height is three times mine,” p. 58).
The daughter adores her mother but also fears her and, at times, even wants to destroy her. Although the tone of this story is that of a myth, there is no moral at the end, no winner or loser. Mother and daughter are two halves of a whole, forever destined to compete with each other while being inextricably linked.
“I fit perfectly in the crook of my mother’s arm, on the curve of her back, in the hollow of her stomach. We eat from the same bowl, drink from the same cup; when we sleep, our heads rest on the same pillow. As we walk through the rooms, we merge and separate, merge and separate; soon we shall enter the final stage of our evolution.” (p. 60)
Many of the stories in the collection are about a mother-daughter relationship. Kincaid’s novels Annie John and Lucy also examine this theme. Reading At the Bottom of the River helped me get a deeper sense of the enormous impact Kincaid’s mother must have had on her. Although I didn’t love this book as much as I had hoped, the stories gave me a wonderful opportunity to slip into alternate realms where anything is possible.
October 24, 2025
jamaica kincaid’in “annemin otobiyografisi”ni okumuş, bayılmış, hatta o dönem yazdığım 10haber’e yazmıştım.
“lucy”den önce arada seda’cımın çevirdiği öykülerini okuyayım dedim. muhteşem bir kapak, “nehrin dibinde” etkili bir isim, ilk öyküleriymiş ve bahsedeceği anne ve kolonyalizm konusu bu öykülerden belliymiş. yazarın hayatında yazıyor bunlar.
ilk öykü bam bam bam gerçekten. ama sonrakiler o kadar o kadar sembolik ki ben hiçbir şekilde içine giremedim. yani ömrünce dert ettiği temalar belli olur gibi oluyor ama tam öyle olduğunda hop başka bir katmana geçiyor öykü, derinleştiremiyoruz.
sayıklama, halüsinasyon ve sembollerle örülü öyküler. sanırım bana en uzak öykü tarzı. o yüzden seda’cığımın nefis çevirisine rağmen bende hiç olmadı bu öyküler. ama diğer kitaplarına devam.
“lucy”den önce arada seda’cımın çevirdiği öykülerini okuyayım dedim. muhteşem bir kapak, “nehrin dibinde” etkili bir isim, ilk öyküleriymiş ve bahsedeceği anne ve kolonyalizm konusu bu öykülerden belliymiş. yazarın hayatında yazıyor bunlar.
ilk öykü bam bam bam gerçekten. ama sonrakiler o kadar o kadar sembolik ki ben hiçbir şekilde içine giremedim. yani ömrünce dert ettiği temalar belli olur gibi oluyor ama tam öyle olduğunda hop başka bir katmana geçiyor öykü, derinleştiremiyoruz.
sayıklama, halüsinasyon ve sembollerle örülü öyküler. sanırım bana en uzak öykü tarzı. o yüzden seda’cığımın nefis çevirisine rağmen bende hiç olmadı bu öyküler. ama diğer kitaplarına devam.
April 27, 2016
A short collection of short stories assigned over a short period of time for a class that, really, any class is far too short if you cut out the expectation of excess labor plugged into calculation of units and really consider the true pedagogy at hand, all of which is not my specialty if my concurrent read of Joseph and His Brothers is anything to go by. And yet it worked, marvelously enough in certain pieces to instigate a resolution of mine to not coddle the shorter works out of a supposed awareness of my long-winded attention span, leastwise not as much as I have been doing. This, in essence, is what I feel Stein was trying to do, perhaps far less scientific and a tad more words, words, words, but the rhythm and the motion and all that repetition that reality really is is there, and nary a blackface in sight. If this comparison puts you off, I don't blame you, but if ever you should come across this collection or its pieces of 'Girl', 'Blackness', 'At the Bottom of the River', give these three, seven, twenty-one pages a chance. Rather, start, and try your best to stop. Success in that's exceedingly difficult, I can tell you that much.
This was read for the class with the critical articles and the academic papers, so I got a lot of side news in regards to Kincaid's postcolonial (?) New Yorker stint and the lens of ecocriticism that probably did some good, considering how the first half pre-articles went okay enough and 'At the Botto of the River' post-article simply bowled me over. That last titular part was the breed of philosophy that doesn't concern itself with names or titles of Eurocentric pedigree, forgoing the naive belief that reconciliation of self with space and time may be subjected to copyright, all thoughts of that capital T theoretical nature not being possible anywhere at all before one particular pedeastaled persona. The story itself is very simple in its water and death and creation of value, but it is not Alice in Wonderland in its acknowledgement of the standardized absurd, a work that may or may not have been riffed off of in the in the collection-contained 'What I Have Been Doing Lately'. Rather, this is an absurdity that must live with its choices. As must we all.
It's always a pleasure when a much overheard name (Kincaid's A Small Place is a 500 GBBW, among other things) fulfills an expectation of merit with expected quality if not in expected nature. I may be convinced to peruse her longer fiction yet.
This was read for the class with the critical articles and the academic papers, so I got a lot of side news in regards to Kincaid's postcolonial (?) New Yorker stint and the lens of ecocriticism that probably did some good, considering how the first half pre-articles went okay enough and 'At the Botto of the River' post-article simply bowled me over. That last titular part was the breed of philosophy that doesn't concern itself with names or titles of Eurocentric pedigree, forgoing the naive belief that reconciliation of self with space and time may be subjected to copyright, all thoughts of that capital T theoretical nature not being possible anywhere at all before one particular pedeastaled persona. The story itself is very simple in its water and death and creation of value, but it is not Alice in Wonderland in its acknowledgement of the standardized absurd, a work that may or may not have been riffed off of in the in the collection-contained 'What I Have Been Doing Lately'. Rather, this is an absurdity that must live with its choices. As must we all.
It's always a pleasure when a much overheard name (Kincaid's A Small Place is a 500 GBBW, among other things) fulfills an expectation of merit with expected quality if not in expected nature. I may be convinced to peruse her longer fiction yet.
August 21, 2015
Non ci ho capito nulla, ho letto un'accozzaglia di immagini sicuramente simboliche, ma a me incomprensibili, per cui il racconto ( non ho neanche capito se fosse un unico racconto diviso in capitoli o tanti racconti) non mi ha trasmesso niente. Sarò una insensibile...
January 8, 2025
Geçtiğimiz yıl Jamaica Kincaid'in dilimize çevrilen ilk kitabı olan Annemin Otobiyografisi'ni okumuş ve çok etkilenmiştim, kendisinin öykü derlemesi olan Nehrin Dibinde çıkınca da hemen okuyayım dedim. Karayip asıllı Amerikalı yazarın yayınlanmış ilk kitabı bu. Bu şiirli öyküler ilk kez The New Yorker ve The Paris Review gibi dergilerde yayımlanmış ve sonradan derlenip bu isimle basılmış. Fakat temel bir itirazım var; bence bunlar öykü değil, anlatısal şiir denen kategoride metinler.
Kincaid'in insanı huzursuz eden açıklıkta ve keskinlikteki dili zamanla oluşmamış, onu anlıyoruz. Daha yolun başındayken derdi de, üslubu da belli ve netmiş. Epeyce müphem yazılmış metinler bunlar. Büyüme hikayeleri diyebiliriz ama neredeyse tamamına damga vurmuş bir anne-kız meselesi var ki diğer kitabından da gayet iyi biliyorum bu konuyla ilgili derdini, bir de bolca doğa tasviri.
Kitabın başındaki ilk öykü "Kız" kusursuz bence, üç sayfalık bir metin ancak bu kadar çarpıcı olabilir. Annesinin kızına verdiği öğütlerden oluşuyor öykü; çelişkili, öfkeli, sevecen, otoriter, ürkek öğütler - tamamı toplumun gözünde "makbul" bir kadın olması için. Sahiden çok iyi yazılmış bir metin bu.
Benzer temalar etrafında dolaşan diğer öyküler beni bu ilk öykü kadar vurmadı, Kincaid'in şiirimsi dili çok güzel olmakla beraber zaman zaman söyleyiş biçimi söylediklerinin önüne geçiyor gibi hissettim ama ilk metinlerde yazarların sık düştüğü bir hata bu; bir tür kendi üsluplarından sarhoş olma hali. Gecede ve Annem öyküleri de çok güzel, özellikle Annem'i çok sevdim, Gecede ise bir öyküden çok imgeler bütünü gibi ama insanı bir rüyanın içine sokuyor adeta.
Ama dediğim gibi, öykülerin genel konusuzluğu takibi güçleştiriyor biraz. Şiirimsi öyküden çok öykümsü şiir gibiler daha ziyade, yani çok güzel yazılmış ama konusu, karakteri olmayan metinler; imgeler, tasvirler çok ağırlıkta ve insan bir noktadan sonra kopabiliyor metinden.
Ezcümle, bir Annemin Otobiyografisi olamadı benim için ama Kincaid'in başka eserleri çevrildikçe okumaya devam edeceğim muhakkak. Çevirmek demişken de - Seda Çıngay Mellor çevirisi her zamanki gibi kusursuz.
Kincaid'in insanı huzursuz eden açıklıkta ve keskinlikteki dili zamanla oluşmamış, onu anlıyoruz. Daha yolun başındayken derdi de, üslubu da belli ve netmiş. Epeyce müphem yazılmış metinler bunlar. Büyüme hikayeleri diyebiliriz ama neredeyse tamamına damga vurmuş bir anne-kız meselesi var ki diğer kitabından da gayet iyi biliyorum bu konuyla ilgili derdini, bir de bolca doğa tasviri.
Kitabın başındaki ilk öykü "Kız" kusursuz bence, üç sayfalık bir metin ancak bu kadar çarpıcı olabilir. Annesinin kızına verdiği öğütlerden oluşuyor öykü; çelişkili, öfkeli, sevecen, otoriter, ürkek öğütler - tamamı toplumun gözünde "makbul" bir kadın olması için. Sahiden çok iyi yazılmış bir metin bu.
Benzer temalar etrafında dolaşan diğer öyküler beni bu ilk öykü kadar vurmadı, Kincaid'in şiirimsi dili çok güzel olmakla beraber zaman zaman söyleyiş biçimi söylediklerinin önüne geçiyor gibi hissettim ama ilk metinlerde yazarların sık düştüğü bir hata bu; bir tür kendi üsluplarından sarhoş olma hali. Gecede ve Annem öyküleri de çok güzel, özellikle Annem'i çok sevdim, Gecede ise bir öyküden çok imgeler bütünü gibi ama insanı bir rüyanın içine sokuyor adeta.
Ama dediğim gibi, öykülerin genel konusuzluğu takibi güçleştiriyor biraz. Şiirimsi öyküden çok öykümsü şiir gibiler daha ziyade, yani çok güzel yazılmış ama konusu, karakteri olmayan metinler; imgeler, tasvirler çok ağırlıkta ve insan bir noktadan sonra kopabiliyor metinden.
Ezcümle, bir Annemin Otobiyografisi olamadı benim için ama Kincaid'in başka eserleri çevrildikçe okumaya devam edeceğim muhakkak. Çevirmek demişken de - Seda Çıngay Mellor çevirisi her zamanki gibi kusursuz.
April 30, 2023
I read and read and read not knowing what was happening and then suddenly my eyes would fill up and I’d get it.
So dreamlike, both in the imagery and the element of uncertainty in where the writing will go, and sometimes that rug-pulled-out ickyness. magical tbh.
My Mother has got to be one of the most beautiful prose poems I have ever read<3
So dreamlike, both in the imagery and the element of uncertainty in where the writing will go, and sometimes that rug-pulled-out ickyness. magical tbh.
My Mother has got to be one of the most beautiful prose poems I have ever read<3
August 30, 2019
It just wasn't my thing. It was like reading someone's dreams- it was made up of the description of a series of images. If I was into that kind of writing I would have really enjoyed it. For me, however, it was hard to follow, hard to stay engaged, and hard to see the commom theme.
January 29, 2023
A collection of stories that read like prose laden with poetry, like conversations within stories, and like memories falling from lips. In these stories I could see games played where a word would start a chain of telling, whereby every following link would begin with the last word from the previous link's ending and I could picture children in basic school being taught to memorize rhymes using simple but meaningful words.
Kincaid uses a decidedly island lyricality and stream of consciousness that is inherent to oral storytelling to bring these stories to life. And as the reader skips from line to line, a certain familiarity of place, people, and time awakens.
The beaches that are glimpsed, di pikney dem weh ramp ruff, adults conversing and reminiscing; all the things you have to learn to do to avoid the slut you bent on becoming (Girl), is from stories you have heard and seen played out before.
But even in the sparsest of lines, vividness of imagery is pulled forth making the mind roll and roil with the heaviness of what is transmitted and the meaning held within each phrase.
'My Mother' is the story that asks the most of me: what metamorphosis can teach and how a relationship as strong as the one between mother and child can be an unbreakable yet fraught bond.
A collection that is stirring, poignant, searching, reflective, and questioning, suffused with the influence of Kincaid's background.
Kincaid uses a decidedly island lyricality and stream of consciousness that is inherent to oral storytelling to bring these stories to life. And as the reader skips from line to line, a certain familiarity of place, people, and time awakens.
The beaches that are glimpsed, di pikney dem weh ramp ruff, adults conversing and reminiscing; all the things you have to learn to do to avoid the slut you bent on becoming (Girl), is from stories you have heard and seen played out before.
But even in the sparsest of lines, vividness of imagery is pulled forth making the mind roll and roil with the heaviness of what is transmitted and the meaning held within each phrase.
'My Mother' is the story that asks the most of me: what metamorphosis can teach and how a relationship as strong as the one between mother and child can be an unbreakable yet fraught bond.
A collection that is stirring, poignant, searching, reflective, and questioning, suffused with the influence of Kincaid's background.
May 17, 2015
As I listened to Edwidge Dandicat read
Wingless
, I was not sure what to think. It's definitely beautiful. It sounds like a abstract poem about a girl, her youth and some strong feelings she has at a young age towards herself, women and her mother especially. I did enjoy listening to this work but feel I may comprehend it's depth more by reading the written version. I'll quote a few words that Ms. Dandicat gave in regards to this piece.
Edwidge Dandicat on Wingless: "It's poetry bleeding into prose....it's a stream of consciousness. It flows like water."
It is all that and more.
I actually re-recommend this to myself in written form and invite any fellow readers to join me.
I give this 4 stars on sound bites and I will probably upgrade once I own the book. There is so much one can deconstruct from this. I'd love to read some more in depth reviews.
http://www.newyorker.com/books/page-t...
Edwidge Dandicat on Wingless: "It's poetry bleeding into prose....it's a stream of consciousness. It flows like water."
It is all that and more.
I actually re-recommend this to myself in written form and invite any fellow readers to join me.
I give this 4 stars on sound bites and I will probably upgrade once I own the book. There is so much one can deconstruct from this. I'd love to read some more in depth reviews.
http://www.newyorker.com/books/page-t...
March 31, 2018
This was a very short audiobook on hoopla. Very lyrical and beautiful. I highly advise listening to the audiobook if the option is available.
November 3, 2021
** 3 stars **
First, this book is mis-categorized as short stories. These are not stories, they are more like prose poems. There is some beautiful writing - lyrical and vivid descriptions - but that is the entirety of the book. There is no characterization and no plot in any of the "stories," just descriptions. But they are lovely descriptions, which is why I have given the book three stars.
I would recommend this book if you are a fan of atmospheric or lyrical writing with the caveat that this is more poetry than short fiction.
First, this book is mis-categorized as short stories. These are not stories, they are more like prose poems. There is some beautiful writing - lyrical and vivid descriptions - but that is the entirety of the book. There is no characterization and no plot in any of the "stories," just descriptions. But they are lovely descriptions, which is why I have given the book three stars.
I would recommend this book if you are a fan of atmospheric or lyrical writing with the caveat that this is more poetry than short fiction.
May 20, 2025
Nehrin Dibinde, şiirsel bir dille yazılmış öykülerden oluşan bir derleme. Öykü diyorum ama bildik anlamda öyküler gelmesin aklınıza. Daha ziyade duruma, ana, bazen de genele dair duyguların, düşüncelerin bir tür dökümü gibi öykümsü metinler aslında bunlar. Jamaica Kincaid merkezinde anne-kız çatışmasının olduğu -kadınlık, kimlik ve doğa-insan ilişkisine de değindiği- bu metinlerde kendine has akıcı bir üslup yaratmayı başarıyor. Bu açıdan amacına da ulaştığını söyleyebilirim ancak öykülerle duygusal bağ kuramadım. “Kız” ve “Annem” öyküleri bence tüm derlemenin muradını anlatan, kısa ama derin öyküler. Kalanı için aynı şeyleri söyleyemeyeceğim. Kincaid’in çok iyi bir yazar olduğu su götürmez ama belki de ilk kitabı olduğu için bütününü çok sevemedim.
October 7, 2023
I am not yet a woman with a terrible and unwanted burden. I am not yet a dog with a cruel and unloving master. I am not yet a tree growing on barren and bitter land. I am not yet the shape of darkness in a dungeon.
Where? What? Why? How then? Oh, that!
I am primitive and wingless.— from “WINGLESS”
Where? What? Why? How then? Oh, that!
I am primitive and wingless.— from “WINGLESS”
January 28, 2014
“All manner of feelings are locked up within my human breast and all manner of events summon them out.” (p47) I read about Kincaid in an article on the legacy of Virginia Woolf. When I began reading, however, I felt uncomfortable with the writing style. It feels somehow abstract while being the opposite of abstract at the same time. It does remind one of Woolf’s The Waves, specifically the lyrical portions. She has a peculiar way of combining tribal visuals with English sentiments. Not every story is strong, but they all have a unique level of observation and recollection.
“What I Have Been Doing Lately” is a brief but energetic tale that toys with the passage of time and plot. I could describe it crassly as an acid trip, but what I suppose the author conveys is a randomness of imagination. Essentially it’s a fast-forward then rewind of a day’s events.
Another good story is “Blackness”, a celebration of emptiness, languor, silence of the senses. I think this feeling has particular appeal to the author, coming from a background and culture of over-worked, crowded households and families. It also shows Kincaid’s theme of the fractured self. “How frightened I became once on looking down to see an oddly shaped, ash-colored object that I did not recognize at once to be a small part of my own foot. And how powerful I then found that moment, so that I was not at one with myself and I found myself separate, like a brittle substance, dashed and shattered….” (p47-48)
This theme is continued in the best one of the collection, the title story “At the Bottom of the River”, where Kincaid takes the fracture theme to its conclusion – the dichotomy/paradox of nature. The story moves from the literal world, to male thinking of the world, to female thinking of the world, and back to the literal world – all to illustrate the horror of life and death. It’s thoughtful and existential, and delivered from a naive point of view (the best kind of narration always is).
One problem I saw with the book as a whole is the usual problem with prose poetry: it feels unpolished. I understand that some readers enjoy raw grammar, but I feel that a few rewrites should have been done. Since she uses very proper English, at least the verb tenses should be consistent. Another problem is that, in the weaker stories, she dives in and out of different voices in a way that's difficult for the reader to follow.
All in all, though, a very unique and beautiful work. Despite her isolation, Kincaid has a strong and lyrical, song-like voice.
“What I Have Been Doing Lately” is a brief but energetic tale that toys with the passage of time and plot. I could describe it crassly as an acid trip, but what I suppose the author conveys is a randomness of imagination. Essentially it’s a fast-forward then rewind of a day’s events.
Another good story is “Blackness”, a celebration of emptiness, languor, silence of the senses. I think this feeling has particular appeal to the author, coming from a background and culture of over-worked, crowded households and families. It also shows Kincaid’s theme of the fractured self. “How frightened I became once on looking down to see an oddly shaped, ash-colored object that I did not recognize at once to be a small part of my own foot. And how powerful I then found that moment, so that I was not at one with myself and I found myself separate, like a brittle substance, dashed and shattered….” (p47-48)
This theme is continued in the best one of the collection, the title story “At the Bottom of the River”, where Kincaid takes the fracture theme to its conclusion – the dichotomy/paradox of nature. The story moves from the literal world, to male thinking of the world, to female thinking of the world, and back to the literal world – all to illustrate the horror of life and death. It’s thoughtful and existential, and delivered from a naive point of view (the best kind of narration always is).
One problem I saw with the book as a whole is the usual problem with prose poetry: it feels unpolished. I understand that some readers enjoy raw grammar, but I feel that a few rewrites should have been done. Since she uses very proper English, at least the verb tenses should be consistent. Another problem is that, in the weaker stories, she dives in and out of different voices in a way that's difficult for the reader to follow.
All in all, though, a very unique and beautiful work. Despite her isolation, Kincaid has a strong and lyrical, song-like voice.
March 25, 2021
no concrete thoughts so I'll just share what I told my girlfriend about the book:
-----
"It's confusing and beautiful"
"Confusing is a bad word"
"I feel like I know exactly why she wrote everything, but there's no inherent meaning to most of it"
"Its like she was just breathing out all the things Antigua and her home make her feel, and it's not just one thing, but a mixture without some defined path or whatever, and she just laid that out for us"
"And sth tells me she grouped the stories after she had written them"
-----
"But anywayyeee"
"Where U how U"
*and then we proceeded to talk about something else...*
-----
"It's confusing and beautiful"
"Confusing is a bad word"
"I feel like I know exactly why she wrote everything, but there's no inherent meaning to most of it"
"Its like she was just breathing out all the things Antigua and her home make her feel, and it's not just one thing, but a mixture without some defined path or whatever, and she just laid that out for us"
"And sth tells me she grouped the stories after she had written them"
-----
"But anywayyeee"
"Where U how U"
*and then we proceeded to talk about something else...*
August 7, 2015
This book was not for me. Even though this collection of short stories is only 86 pages long, it was a struggle to finish. But in all fairness, there was some impressive writing, and I really liked the first story, Girl (which I would give 4 stars). All of the stories obsessively focused, in very poetic language, with troubled relations between a daughter and mother.
October 19, 2020
She loves the thing untouched by lore
She loves the thing that is not cultivated, and yet
She loves the thing built up.
Bit carefully placed upon bit - it's very beauty
eclipsing the deed it is meant to commemerate.
Labeled as "short stories", I found these pieces to be a better fit in prose poetry - both in form and theme. Kincaid is a vituoso of lyrcism.
She loves the thing that is not cultivated, and yet
She loves the thing built up.
Bit carefully placed upon bit - it's very beauty
eclipsing the deed it is meant to commemerate.
Labeled as "short stories", I found these pieces to be a better fit in prose poetry - both in form and theme. Kincaid is a vituoso of lyrcism.
March 15, 2021
3.5 really. A collection of short stories dealing with motherhood, womanhood, and - just - being alive. Though the stories are beautiful, intricate, and deep, they sometimes appear to be somewhat convoluted; at least for me. My favorites were Girl, Blackness, and At the Bottom of the River.
June 17, 2015
Mi rendo conto che la "colpa" è mia: ho apprezzato alcune delle immagini descritte dall'autrice ma l'insieme mi ha generato noia e poco interesse. Magari in un altro periodo sarò più recettiva.
July 22, 2023
Typ magisk realism, eller snarare magiska orealistiska drömmar. Oerhört besviken, har älskat allt annat av Kincaid.
June 10, 2024
My first Jamaica Kincaid. A collection of linked short stories, or prose poems—either description works. They take unusual forms and sometimes feel like vignettes, or pieces of memoir. The main characters are a girl and her mother, and their relationship is the central concern of the book. The poetry is bold and strong, but the prose is also clear and light on its feet. I liked that in the style. On a story level the pieces are mostly quite amorphous, and often surreal. It wasn’t easy to follow just what was going on, but at the same time it was easy to follow the narrator’s curious, searching and impassioned voice. A dreamy, lovely read, sentimental in a good way.
Read
October 14, 2025Very dreamlike — will return
January 21, 2025
"Kız" öyküsünü ilk kez 2021 yılında katıldığım bir edebiyat kampında okumuştum. Böyle yazarak nasıl şiir etkisi bıraktığına şaşırarak sonraki ödevimde ona öykünmüştüm ama kısa bir paragraf yazıp istediğim gibi olmayınca bırakmıştım (story of my life mlsf)
Bu kitap da "Kız" öyküsüyle başlıyor. Eğer daha okumadıysanız bir şansı hak ediyor.
"Bir gölge düşürmeli ve her şeyden habersiz kalmalıyım."
Bu kitap da "Kız" öyküsüyle başlıyor. Eğer daha okumadıysanız bir şansı hak ediyor.
"Bir gölge düşürmeli ve her şeyden habersiz kalmalıyım."
January 13, 2023
The first work by Jamaica Kincaid I ever read, A Small Place, contained an image that I was never able to shake from my mind: Kincaid describes white tourists in Antigua swimming in the clear, paradisiacal waters of a tropical beach… Only to have a floating turd from the growing pollution graze against their feet. The heft of colonialism, environmental racism, pollution, exploitative tourism—she centered it all, the cosmic heft of such ugly and monstrous predicaments, balanced it all flawlessly and eloquently on a single piece of turd.
This is how Kincaid labors, and what she offers an outstanding plethora of here in her first collection: A series of still and concrete images, as small and broken and ugly as dirt on the ground or a spoon at the table, listed almost in monotone fashion (the first story is just one sentence broken by semicolons), but from these quotidian snapshots, she builds an entire language of her own, an alternate set of symbolic lineages in order to unearth what the rest of literary language fails to express: feelings, relationships, and philosophical insights of the most brutally personal kind.
Kincaid knows the rhythms that these images need in order for their power to truly resound. There is the horrific as it intermingles with realism, there’s moments that feel like catching your breath, meditating, even some sentences that feel like sleeping, but there’s always something lingering, something maybe uneasy, fretful, but also beautiful, and always powerful within it all.
This is how Kincaid labors, and what she offers an outstanding plethora of here in her first collection: A series of still and concrete images, as small and broken and ugly as dirt on the ground or a spoon at the table, listed almost in monotone fashion (the first story is just one sentence broken by semicolons), but from these quotidian snapshots, she builds an entire language of her own, an alternate set of symbolic lineages in order to unearth what the rest of literary language fails to express: feelings, relationships, and philosophical insights of the most brutally personal kind.
Kincaid knows the rhythms that these images need in order for their power to truly resound. There is the horrific as it intermingles with realism, there’s moments that feel like catching your breath, meditating, even some sentences that feel like sleeping, but there’s always something lingering, something maybe uneasy, fretful, but also beautiful, and always powerful within it all.
January 11, 2019
In fondo al fiume è una raccolta di dieci brani che non possono essere classificati come racconti; si tratta più che altro di istantanee, di poesie in prosa dal sapore caraibico, che accostano ricordi dell'autrice a frammenti biografici, visioni oniriche e registrazioni puntuali, quasi asciutte, dello scorrere della vita quotidiana. Ai sapori esotici della papaya, della root beer e del pepper pot stufato, si accostano i colori quasi fluorescenti della vegetazione di Antigua, i canti invadenti degli uccelli e le usanze di una popolazione variopinta. Più che racconti si tratta di contenitori di esperienze soggettive e universali, spesso accomunate da un unico filo conduttore (le vacanze, l'infanzia, la "nerezza"...).
Si tratta di un libro a mio parere puramente contemplativo, che ho trovato a tratti di difficile comprensione. Sembra, appunto, che l'autrice dia libero sfogo ad un flusso ininterrotto di pensieri, accostando tra loro frasi e immagini apparentemente senza connessione tra loro, e il lettore è chiamato a ricostruirne con pazienza il significato. Ecco, io questa pazienza non l'ho avuta, o forse ho scelto il momento sbagliato per leggere questa raccolta, pur avendo amato con tutto il mio cuore il più famoso Autobiografia di mia madre della stessa autrice.
Leggi la mia recensione completa: https://bulimialetteraria.wordpress.c...
Si tratta di un libro a mio parere puramente contemplativo, che ho trovato a tratti di difficile comprensione. Sembra, appunto, che l'autrice dia libero sfogo ad un flusso ininterrotto di pensieri, accostando tra loro frasi e immagini apparentemente senza connessione tra loro, e il lettore è chiamato a ricostruirne con pazienza il significato. Ecco, io questa pazienza non l'ho avuta, o forse ho scelto il momento sbagliato per leggere questa raccolta, pur avendo amato con tutto il mio cuore il più famoso Autobiografia di mia madre della stessa autrice.
Leggi la mia recensione completa: https://bulimialetteraria.wordpress.c...
June 20, 2025
2025 Review:
Revisited this for a post for the Chicago Public Library blog (wooohoo go read it! https://www.chipublib.org/blogs/post/...)
as it made such a huge impression on me when I was 22, and now Reading it again I'm less sure why. I remembered it be really woozy and captivating and made me realize I’d never thought about what humdrum normal life in the Caribbean would be like. Returning to it now its even more abstract and stream of consciousness than I remembered and theres very little of that humdrum quality that I’d responded to so strongly. Its funny to come to something abstract like this where you think age will help you tap into it more but instead you feel much closer to your memory of the book that what you actually find yourself reading. None of this is really a criticism, poems like In The Night, Girl, My Mother, and the title poem were amazing but more for the beauty of the language than the emotional response? Anyway cool to return to something like this and have it feel like a whole new book!
2020 Review:
this is some good woozy weird shit
Revisited this for a post for the Chicago Public Library blog (wooohoo go read it! https://www.chipublib.org/blogs/post/...)
as it made such a huge impression on me when I was 22, and now Reading it again I'm less sure why. I remembered it be really woozy and captivating and made me realize I’d never thought about what humdrum normal life in the Caribbean would be like. Returning to it now its even more abstract and stream of consciousness than I remembered and theres very little of that humdrum quality that I’d responded to so strongly. Its funny to come to something abstract like this where you think age will help you tap into it more but instead you feel much closer to your memory of the book that what you actually find yourself reading. None of this is really a criticism, poems like In The Night, Girl, My Mother, and the title poem were amazing but more for the beauty of the language than the emotional response? Anyway cool to return to something like this and have it feel like a whole new book!
2020 Review:
this is some good woozy weird shit
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