This book opens up two different worlds (Black American and Immigrant Southern Italian), and finds the poetry in both.
A tough thing to do, to be certain, but the author pulls it off. she's the hardcore heart that resolves these two worlds; the imaginative and emotional core, that's got to make it all work.
The best memoirs do this. They take you to the very crucial thought and emotional processes that elucidate a real life and real living person in the process of not only living, but evolving.
It's a deeply moving thing. It feels heroic. Heroic in it's humility and compassion, and heroic in the way it seeks to understand and do justice to those who live in the deepest part of her heart. In all it's real complexity and humanity. Heroic in the tensile strength you have the honor of being allowed to witness up close with such access.
This is a somewhat strange time in this nation's history. Celebrating the fifty year anniversary of the March on Washington and MLK's "I Have Dream" speech. Still capable of debacle like the court spectacle arising from a situation like that of Trayvon Martin, even while there's a president, (like Ms. Ragusa), who is half black, and even while so much of the Italian community in the public eye, it seems Guiliani, Scalia, Alito) seems to have lost all connection to it's progressive working-class background and is so regressive, reactionary and elitist. And refretfully, shamefully really, thug-like and oppressive.
It seems to have lost all sense of their roots as immigrants whose families in Southern Italy were enslaved (by the Greeks) and discriminated against economically for hundreds of years, and kept uneducated and politically disenfranchised as much as blacks were in this country. {Full Disclosure: I was born in Sicily.)
Anyhow, point here is simply, we need more writers who can write about the complexity of racial identity with the literary talent Ragusa brings to the job, and I eagerly await her next book.