Book Review of Gone: A Girl, A Violin, A Life Unstrung by Min Kym

I first heard about Gone by Min Kym on the Blogging for Books website, where I noticed it was garnering five star review after five star review. I had never heard of Min Kym. Lindsey Stirling is my favorite violin soloist, and when it comes to classical solo string performers, I am much more of a cello listener. What could be so compelling about a memoir written by a violin soloist about having her instrument stolen? I remember wondering. And then, I recalled a television interview I'd seen years ago, in which blues guitar player B.B. King spoke emotionally about the experience of having his guitar Lucille stolen. Two things stuck out in my mind about that interview: 1) That King rushed back into a burning building to rescue his guitar, and that when he found out the fire was started because two men had been arguing over a woman named Lucille, he knew what he had to name his beloved instrument, and 2) That an instrument could be so integral to a musician that he would run into a burning building to save it, risking his life without hesitation. So, of course I requested a free review copy of Gone. I had to see if her story was as unique, interesting, and emotional.

Though I understand why each element of the cover design for this book was selected, I don't personally like it. Conversely, I think the author picture included in the back of this book is one of the best I've ever seen, and I think it would've made a wonderful cover for Gone! I find it more aesthetically appealing and memorable than the actual cover. Plus, I'm dying to ask Min Kym how, exactly, she gets her hair to do that. Clearly, if she decides to move on from the world of professional music performance, she could really rock the YouTube hair tutorial videos. Also, seeing this author photo left me with one question: Kym mentions owning and playing several different violins over the course of the memoir. Which one is pictured here?

On the surface, it seems as if Kym has succeeded despite overwhelming struggles. She emigrated from Korea and grew up in London. She was admitted to the renowned Purcell School for musically gifted children, where she excelled and people quickly realized she was a violin prodigy. With a father who was constantly absent due to work that took him abroad for long stretches of time, a sister she never mentions except in the context of playing the piano alongside Kym's violin, and a mother who had the highest expectations of her daughters, but only showed affection through food, possibly creating a toxic atmosphere in which Kym's anorexia thrived, (Strangely, this is only mentioned in the last chapter of the book.) Kym found herself in music.

However, her confidence and her ability to speak up for herself were mostly non-existent. Kym found herself in a relationship with a manipulative man who had previously preyed on other Korean girls, finding them easy targets because the cultural values of submission and self-sacrifice with which they had been indoctrinated made them easy to control. Any time Kym succeeded in recognizing what she wanted and gravitating toward it, or meekly voiced her concerns in an attempt to stand up for what was important to her, he shut it down, ultimately leading to the theft of her beloved Stradivarius violin--a world-class instrument valued at more than many houses but, more importantly, the vessel through which Kym expressed herself emotionally and upon which she built her career professionally.

Gone is the story of Kym's upbringing, her training as a violin prodigy, her discovery of the violin that would define, amplify, and clarify her voice as a person, and as a performer, and the devastating loss of that gorgeous instrument. It differs a bit from a traditional memoir. For one thing, despite the fact that there are assuredly pictures of Kym from her extensive professional performance career, I found it odd and disappointing that they weren't included in the book. Also lacking were photos of the various violins Kym owned and played over the course of her life as a violin soloist, which would've been integral to the story, considering that the importance of her instrument is the essence of the book. And, since Kym goes into great (helpful, and interesting) detail about the parts of a violin, and which ones she tweaked in order to adjust each instrument to work for her as a performer, some diagrams displaying that information would've been useful and informative to the reader. I did appreciate, however, that Kym included generous amounts of information about luthiers, and about today's violin trade. I also enjoyed the parts where Kym would give context about the classical pieces she was working on at that point in the narrative, describing the feeling of the piece, or even going into personal detail about the life of the composer. These anecdotes served to educate me as a reader, but they also underscored for me how personal this music is to Kym, and how intimately she knows it.

However, there is one thing tied into Gone that I haven't seen with a memoir: music. At the very beginning of the book, there's a list of nine tracks which closely relate to the narrative. They are solo pieces recorded by Kym, which are described in the book at various points. In addition to the suggested listening list, those points are marked by a music note and a number in the margins, so readers know when to start each track. But, as wonderful a tie-in as this concept is, the music isn't available to listen for free on YouTube or Kym's website, and the book doesn't come with download codes. Instead, the reader is given instructions on where to purchase the music. So, the publisher expects readers to pay $25.00 for the book, and then pay more (about $15.00 on Amazon for the CD) to listen to the music for the full experience? And, many readers may not know they are supposed to buy music to go with the book beforehand, so they may have brought the book with them somewhere to read where they can't download the music. I feel like the cover price of the book should've been increased, and the book itself should have come with download codes or a CD of the music, this requiring only one purchase for the full experience. This aspect of Gone was poorly designed.

Overall, Min Kym's writing was refreshingly honest, self-aware, and beautiful in a simple, poetic way. There were some grammatical errors I feel her editor should've caught, but it's obvious that Kym knows how to tell a story. Also, Kym didn't shy away from aspects of her life that didn't put her in the best light. Gone isn't the story of a girl trying come off as perfect, though it so easily could've been. Kym writes vulnerably, and the result is powerful, endearing, and sad. It shows how integral an instrument can be to a musician, and how crucial it is for women to be taught as girls that what they say and how they feel matters, and that they shouldn't suffer the company of anyone who disagrees.

Highly recommended.

As a little sidenote, I just noticed this is my 100th review for Blogging For Books. This is a great program, and I really enjoy participating in it! I never would've discovered many books I've truly loved without BFB, Gone being one of them. 

Book Review of The Misadventures Of Awkward Black Girl by Issa Rae

The Misadventures Of Awkward Black Girl by Issa Rae is one of those books I've been wanting to read since it came out last year. So, when I opened my Glommable Glombox here and discovered a shiny new copy, I was stoked! I got even more excited when I saw it had been blurbed by Mindy Kaling, as I've read and enjoyed both of her memoirs--link to my review of Why Not Me? here. I found the cover of Misadventures instantly charming. Everything from Rae's awkward facial expression to her quirky ensemble was endearing to me. The bright, bold colors gave me a hint about the bright, bold personality I hoped would emanate from the memoir.

As I read more of Misadventures, I realized it was like a mashup of Kaling's memoirs (WOC whose body type doesn't align with societal standards struggles to fit in, but is considered a dork by her peers, and uses humor to gloss over here glaring social inadequacies), and Born A Crime by Trevor Noah (POC with one parent born in Africa, who has spent years living there, and who looks at Black culture part as a participant and part as an amateur Sociologist, through the veil of humor), of which my review is here. Since those are all ingredients I find supremely compelling within a memoir, and I loved Kaling's and Noah's books, I was left perplexed that I didn't enjoy Rae's own take on social awkwardness, Black identity, extended family living in Africa, and body image struggles. After all, it was well-written, equally balanced in apt observations and shameless self deprecation, and full of charming 90s pop culture references.

Rae, herself, is an empathetic narrator. I found myself rooting for her from page one. But, ultimately, I think my sense of humor just isn't compatible with her humor writing style. And, even though I didn't enjoy reading this half as much as I thought I would, I came away from the experience with a newfound appreciation for the unique and timely public persona Issa Rae has crafted. That said, if you're a fan of hers, you'll want to give The Misadventures Of Awkward Black Girl a try. 

Book Review of Why Not Me? by Mindy Kaling

Since I enjoyed Mindy Kaling's first book, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns), so much, I jumped at the chance to get a free copy of her second book, Why Not Me?, for review from Blogging For Books. It did not disappoint.

I love that Kaling's writing is witty and approachable. I love that her take on women's issues and her attitude about Hollywood are both totally real and grounded. I love that every facet of this book, from the back cover design to the endpaper graphics, from the photos to the author bio is completely in line with Kaling's identity and absurdly hilarious.

My favorite part of Why Not Me? was easily the section with the chapter about beauty advice here Kaling talked about hair. She uncovered the--let's be honest, no longer surprising--truth that pretty much everyone on TV has fake hair. The picture of "her" before all of the Hollywood styling (a photo of Gollum from LOTR made me laugh out loud... not just because I have a friend who has hair thinning due to some medical problems who recently described herself as having had "Gollum hair," but also because I admired the ladyballs (yeah, just like in Easy A) to admit that nobody looks like they do on screen in real life, and to encourage the women reading her book not to compare themselves and their appearances to a standard of beauty she herself can't even attain without a whole team of stylists and a barrage of beauty products.

If you like Kaling herself and find her funny, enjoy her TV show, or devoured her first book, grab this one for sure!

Glommable Glombox #1: A Review and Unboxing

I'm lucky enough to have won a Glombox from Glommable at Glommable.com, and it just arrived, so I thought I'd do an unboxing post. If you aren't familiar with the website (or the new box), they're both focused on the intersection of books and pop culture, with a mix of high-brow and low-brow, and all that's in between. The box felt like it was curated by Rory Gilmore and Mindy Lahiri. The card enclosed inside the top of the box explained both the website and the rationale for its contents pretty well, although it didn't adequately explain that this isn't actually a subscription box, but is instead a sweepstakes, of which there were 10 winners, but I dug around a little bit for that info. You can see the card nestled inside the box atop the turquoise tissue paper that concealed all of the other contents. I particularly love the humor and snark with which the card was written.

That's a pretty strange decision, and I wonder why Glommable won't be offering a subscription option for these, since I predict there will be a demand for them. Each of the prize boxes' contents was valued at $100 USD. Fortunately for you readers, though, most of these items are available for purchase at your favorite bookstore, so let's get to unpacking!

Once I opened the tissue paper, the first fun little trinket in the box was a card explaining Mabel, Glommable's mascot. Attached was an enamel pin featuring her charmingly strange little likeness, pictured below. You can see how all of the Glombox's contents are nestled atop colorful little blue paper shreds, which would've been charming and fun... except that they were a dark sky blue, and the tissue paper was a teal/turquoise color, so they actually clashed with each other. Also, I think Mabel is cute, but since I have absolutely no use for enamel pins whatsoever, I have no idea what I'm going to do with her. ...suggestions?

Once I moved the top layer of paper shreds aside, I discovered this glossy sheet of silly photobooth-style photos of Anna Kendrick wearing the outfit she wore on the cover of her recently published memoir, Scrappy Little Nobody. Stuck through the one square not featuring a photo of Kendrick is another enamel pin, this one decorated with the words 'scrappy little nobody'. Though I've truly enjoyed some of Kendrick's performances, I have actually already read Scrappy Little Nobody, and I can't say I cared for it much. In fact, I didn't post a review because I disliked it too much to finish the book. That's okay, though. Sometimes, a person who is a solid stage performer has talent or charisma that doesn't translate to the page, and I felt that was the case with Kendrick.

So, of course, the next item was a hardback copy of Scrappy Little Nobody by Anna Kendrick.

But, this one is autographed. I'm sure that, if I were a bigger fan of the book, or of Kendrick in general, there would've been some *squee*ing happening at this point.

Underneath that, There was a copy of Hyperbole and a Half by Allie Brosh. I love that book! In fact, I love it so much that I already own it.... I've followed the blog forever, and I really enjoy Allie Brosh's honesty about mental illness--the way she writes about her own struggles with Anxiety and Depression is both hilarious and somehow helpful to readers who might be dealing with similar issues. Also, I love that her lack of what traditional art scholars may call "talent" with drawing (aka, the people she draws look like the people I'm able to draw), doesn't hold her back from telling completely entertaining stories about her life. I wish, instead of including two extra items (the enamel pin and the photos) themed on Scrappy Little Nobody, Glommable had chosen to add some Hyperbole and a Half swag... as long as it wasn't yet another enamel pin!

However, I was thrilled to see that the next item was a copy of The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl by Issa Rae, because this is actually on my TBR list! Also, as a diverse book blogger, I'm excited because it means I've got another #ownvoices title by a diverse author on my shelf. Expect a review sometime soon. (I had to put one of the other books back inside the box underneath it because those pesky little paper shreds kept obscuring the cover when I tried to take a picture and the book was sinking into them like a very small child in the ball pit at Chuck E. Cheese.)

The next title I unearthed was You're Never Weird On The Internet (almost) by Felicia Day. I don't have much of a frame of reference for this book--actually, it was the only item in the box that I wasn't familiar with in one way or another)--so I had a pretty neutral reaction when I pulled it out. A memoir with a bonus chapter included and a foreward by Joss Whedon piqued my interest, though, so this one has been added to my TBR to read and review. Have any of you guys read it? What are your thoughts?

Just when I thought I'd reached the bottom of the Glombox, I moved all of the blue paper shreds of doom (TM) aside to discover that there was one last surprise... a Pusheen coloring book!

This was a nice addition to the box because it was the only book-like thing included that had the sole purpose of frivolity, with no serious element at all. But, I found myself wishing that the Glombox curators had included a little Pusheen goody, like maybe a pen, or a sheet of stickers instead of the Kendrick photos or one of those tiresome enamel pins that also have no actual use.

Here's my favorite page from the coloring book:

(I actually saw some memo pads with this design on them on an endcap in the stationery section in B&N, but I couldn't afford them, so I had to drag myself away.) That makes me extra pumped that this coloring book, and this particular design, was included in the box. I'm thinking of framing this page and hanging it in my closet for a little inspiration when I'm getting dressed and I have trouble deciding how fancy to be. Now, here's a question for you: I have a Doctor's appointment tomorrow. Do you guys think the dress code is merely kind of fancy, or actually super fancy? I mean, do I need to be tracking down a unicorn before I show up there tomorrow?

Ultimately, I'm super grateful to have won a Glombox, and it definitely motivated me to check out Glommable.com, which is a website I'd heard about a time or two in passing previously, but wasn't on my radar much before. I have no idea why they aren't offering this as a subscription, unless the sweepstakes is merely a test run before they start a subscription service (which could be a smart way to do things). 

Overall, I enjoyed the contents of the box. They struck a good balance between high culture and low culture/serious and humorous. I would've enjoyed a more cohesive theme, and I would've liked if they stayed away from those seemingly purposeless enamel pins entirely. As someone who loves to send care packages, I was particularly taken with the size and shape of the box (it was a very attractive square-topped box with a lid that tucked into the front and folded upward from a hinged back). I felt the presentation could've been a little better--maybe fancier?--by simply attaching the explanation card to the inside of the box lid, choosing tissue paper and paper shred packing materials that matched or coordinated with each other, and maybe having one other decorative element within the packaging itself. I also would've liked to see a little more diversity amongst the authors whose works were included within the box. Since that is such a selling point, and a hot-button issue in both publishing and pop culture today, it surprises me that the Glommable curators would be so tone-deaf on this point. Still, this is their first crack at the whole Glombox thing, and there's always the next box!

Book Review of Coming Clean: A Memoir by Kimberly Rae Miller

After reading Gwendolyn Knapp's supremely unsatisfying hoarding-related memoir (check out yesterday's review), I wanted to know if there were any books out there that tackled the same topic with more aplomb, so I put a copy of Coming Clean: A Memoir by Kimberly Rae Miller on hold at the library. Contrary to what the super disappointing cover design led me to believe (and, ugh, when I saw it, I was not expecting much), it was a night-and-day difference!

As I mentioned in the previous review of a memoir dealing with hoarding, I'm the kid of hoarders. My Dad is deceased, and my Mom is currently working to reform her hoarding ways, so, just as I was supremely disappointed in the carelessness and superficiality dripping from After A While You Just Get Used To It, I related deeply to the seriousness, frustration, and pain emanating from Coming Clean. Miller truly bared herself and her painful childhood experiences, growing up the daughter of hoarders in a time before there was a TV show, a cultural touchstone, a functional psychological diagnosis, or even a word for such behavior. In Coming Clean, Miller didn't attempt to offer up her parents' foibles and obvious psychological problems and their resultant hoarding and quirks for laughs, but instead gave a realistically detailed account of what it was like to grow up marooned on an island of filth. For those who have been there, Miller is clearly a comrade-in-arms. For those who haven't, just know that she provided an accurate depiction: that really is what it's like.

Coming Clean deals with much heavier issues than being unable to recycle some old newspapers. Miller's parents couldn't have been more loving, but with her dad's mental illness and her mom's severe back problems, they were inept at providing a clean, safe environment for their beloved daughter, or their pets. Even after growing up and physically escaping her parents' prison of stuff (one of Miller's main reasons for wanting to go away to college), she suffered anxiety, nightmares, and other symptoms of PTSD from her experiences living in their mess, as well as physical symptoms (infections, asthma, and other breathing problems) brought on by the clutter and germs. Miller also eloquently discusses the isolation she and her parents experienced because of their hoarding--from society, their family and friends, and from each other. Ultimately, Coming Clean is the story of a daughter who is at her wit's end with her parents' hoarding, but who loves them despite the fact that they can't let go of their useless collections of junk. It is a sad story. It is a true story. It is a story very much worth reading. Highly recommended.

Book Review of After A While You Just Get Used To It: A Tale of Family Clutter by Gwendolyn Knapp

I entered a contest for a free copy of this book because I read a blurb about it and saw the cover and I knew I had to read it! Why? Well, my Mom is in the process of becoming a reformed hoarder... and she considers squirrels her mortal enemies. So, this is one of those books I wanted to read and then share with her. I was thrilled when it arrived in the mail, as I assumed I'd enjoy it immensely and be excited to see her reaction. I mean, the cover is just hilarious even by itself, right? I love the way the squirrel could both symbolize a hoarder (hoarding nuts), but the squirrel figurine could also be clutter in and of itself, and it is fun and quirky. Genius! ...if only the book followed suit. In all fairness to this book, maybe Gwendolyn Knapp's sense of humor just doesn't match up with my own, because I've seen a couple of different reviews compare it to David Sedaris or Jenny Lawson, both authors of books I thought I'd like, books I wanted to like, but books I actually loathed. So, if you enjoy those other authors and their particular off-beat brand of humor, maybe this book is the nut you should be storing for winter. Otherwise, not so much.The main problem I had with this book is that it lacked balance; I was hoping that, in addition to narrating hilarious scenes of the clutter acting as a hostile environment or even personified as an antagonist in and of itself, Knapp would also analyze the clutter. Did her family's collection of useless junk signify mental confusion? ...a worthless (and somewhat rusty) security blanket? ...the desire for material wealth? A book like this would have to walk the fine line between theatre of the absurd-style humor and poignant, evocative emotion. On those counts, it completely failed. Instead, Knapp seemed to be under the mistaken impression that barely connected reminiscences whose only shared commonality was clutter as their backdrop somehow gelled into a larger plot or character arc. They did not.

Also, because Knapp didn't portray herself as an empathetic protagonist with a clearly defined mission on the brain, I couldn't root for her. Readers will likely be left with no sense of who she is, or ability to tell what it is she wants. How can I be on her side if I don't even know where it is when buried under all of the superfluous stuff? As a reader, I feel as though Knapp invited me over to her family's overstuffed home, beckoned me to follow her thorough the labyrinth of a living room, maze of a master bedroom and dump of a den only to present me with the back door, fling it open, shrug, and say, "Bye! Thanks for coming over!" waving as the dented screen door slams behind me, the utterly bewildered reader.

What is the point of this book? I couldn't tell. I wish I hadn't wasted my time reading it, and I'm surely not going to waste my Mom's by giving it to her. Well, that, and I wouldn't want her to add it to the top of yet another growing mountain of pointless possessions because, contrary to what Knapp's title may assert, I haven't yet gotten used to it, and her assertion that such a thing is possible leads me to believe that her family's "hoarding" isn't the real deal, after all.

Book Review of El Deafo by Cece Bell

I wanted to read (and review) El Deafo by Cece Bell for three reasons. One is that, thanks to a crappy immune system, I've had over a hundred ear infections (and tubes three times) in my life, and I'm lucky to still be able to hear, but I never want to take that for granted. Two is that, of course, it fits right in with my mission as a Diverse Book Blogger. (Click the link in the right sidebar for more information.) And three is that sign language and Deaf culture are very important to my husband, a teacher who has some Deaf and hard-of-hearing students, has volunteered at a Deaf camp, and is trying to start an ASL club at his school currently. So, when he mentioned wanting to read this book, I figured I'd join him. His book pick was solid, and I was far from disappointed. I just love the cover. The way the characters are drawn in this book really reminds me of the Arthur books, which I really enjoyed as a kid.

El Deafo is Cece Bell's graphic novel autobiography of becoming deaf and navigating childhood afterward. A cartoonized Cece (sometimes the caped superhero version she imagines of herself, the titular El Deafo) deals with friendship drama, classroom challenges, hearing aid malfunctions, unnerving doctor's appointments, scary sleepovers, and feelings about her sudden hearing loss. If there is one basic throughline of the story, it is Cece learning to live with her deafness and figuring out who her real allies are during a difficult time of change and growth.

El Deafo could be useful to hearing kids who want to understand what Deaf or hard-of-hearing kids are going through. Bell takes the time to explain things step-by-step, such as how to speak if someone is trying to read your lips, or how to be considerate of a Deaf or hard-of-hearing friend without patronizing them or making them feel different. It could also be beneficial for adults who work with Deaf or hard-of-hearing kids, though, obviously, it is written at a MG reading level and the material is presented for that audience, because Bell also points out some of the obstacles she faced in the classroom, which teachers and other adults could've been better prepared to help with. And, though I'm not Deaf or hard-of-hearing, I wonder if it wouldn't also be great for those readers as well, especially if they are MG reading level, because they might feel sympatico with Cece when she explains how frustrating it is when hearing people don't understand some of the challenges she faces, or what a relief it can be to simply turn off her hearing aid when she wants quiet.

What's wonderful about El Deafo is Bell's emotional honesty, and the fact that she was clearly prepared to explain difficult concepts and share painful feelings for the benefit of her readers. Also, the character of Cece is so lovable that I rooted for her from the first page, and even if I'd had no interest in the subject matter, Cece's sympathetic character would've kept me reading until the end.

Book Review of Disaster Falls: A Family Story by Stephane Gerson

Disaster Falls: A Family Story by Stephane Gerson both is and isn't the horror story its title and cover design seem to portend. (One wonders if that was the reason for the subtitle in the first place.) Though there is no murderer rampant in the woods, which was the first mental image conjured up by those two elements, there is death in the form of Gerson's eight-year-old son Owen drowning in a tragic rafting accident. Disaster Falls is a memoir of Gerson's grief, and of how his family (himself, his wife Alison, and their older son Julian) deal with this traumatic event--both together and separately.

What makes Disaster Falls so different from countless other memoirs written by parents whose children have died young? Surely, each one is tragic. Each story is incomprehensible. Each is terrible to behold, even from the far-removed perspective of a reader who has never met the author and never knew the child. But it is Gerson's precision of language and utter thoughtfulness about how he describes his family's experiences with grief and loss that set him apart.

Perhaps one of the most helpful sections of the book for those readers not seeking solace in a tale to which we can relate is the one in which Gerson lists quotations from condolence messages his family received in the aftermath. He breaks them down into categories of what made him feel better, what made him feel worse... what bothered him, what was offensive. Even if there is no takeaway value in any of the ensuing pages (and there is actually much), hearing an honest reaction firsthand from someone who heard such condolence messages about what thoughts and feelings they inspired is helpful. After all, there is nothing so difficult to write as a condolence message, and wouldn't we all like to know how to be truly comforting, as opposed to ineffectual or, worse, hurtful?

Another aspect of Disaster Falls that sets it apart from other books of its type is the way Gerson has uncovered heretofore unpublicized information about the type of rafting trips (marketed to families, even with children as young as eight, which was Owen's age at the time of the fatal accident) that killed Owen. Gerson has done more than reflect on his feelings--he has done enough due diligence for any parent who might be reading Disaster Falls. Gerson uncovers the unpalatable truth about such tourist enterprises, speaking from a position of painful personal regret. If someone had only been honest and upfront with him and his wife about the risks associated with these trips, then maybe Owen would still be inching his way toward adulthood as part of the Gerson family, alive and well.

Gerson deftly illustrates the differences in how individuals grieve. Even three people as close as he, his wife, and his surviving son are experienced the sudden absence of the same cherished boy in starkly different ways. Alison was comforted by a house full of people, while Julian expressed no greater desire than for the interlopers to leave. Gerson found himself frozen into inaction while he watched his wife run circles around him, barely eating, and losing pounds by the dozens.

Ultimately, Disaster Falls does many things well, at what I assume was great personal cost to the author. It tells the story of how the Gerson family responded to a horrible event. It takes unscrupulous tourist rafting companies to task for their role in Owen's demise. It alerts other parents to the often unspoken dangers of rafting trips marketed for families. It highlights how differently grief for the same person can manifest itself, even among members of the same immediate family. It presents (poetically, eloquently) the terrible reality of what it feels like to a parent when his or her child dies.

Highly recommended.

A free copy of this book was provided through Blogging For Books in exchange for my honest review.

Book Review of Born a Crime by Trevor Noah

I'm sure most of my readers are familiar with Trevor Noah. Born a Crime is his humorous memoir of growing up with a white Swiss father and a black Xhosa mother in South Africa during apartheid, when a relationship with someone of another race was punishable by prison sentence. Needless to say, Noah has an engaging story to tell. And, with his trademark wit and sharply sardonic cultural observation, he tells it well.

Born a Crime doesn't feel like a book, so much as it feels like a collection of essays, each chapter independently delving into a different facet of Noah's childhood, which is of stark contrast the young experiences of many of his readers. In addition to his honest portrayal of his upbringing and the political climate in which it happened, Noah also brings the personality of a lovable rascal--so different from that of the typical memoirist, which is refreshing and helps the book come alive. Many people who grow up to write their memoirs were quiet readers, social outcasts, nerds, or dealt with abusive situations at home. Noah's bent toward juvenile delinquency and his uniquely honest way of relating to his mom help make his portrayal of his childhood self a triumph.

Ultimately, when one picks up Born a Crime, one is signing on for many things: a small, but painless, civics lesson in apartheid, a carefully-curated selection of Noah's most meaningful or entertaining boyhood memories, and all of it served up with the treatment of Noah's personal humorous style, which will bring audiences back to his narrative again and again. This book fills all of the promises it has made, and more. 

I received a free copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for my honest review.