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A review by illustrated_librarian
Off-White by Astrid H. Roemer
challenging
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
'At least once a year, they would map the territory of their past and dig up the roots of the family tree for a brief inspection. And the adults would conclude once again that, regardless, they were all off-white.'
Suriname, 1966, and the long shadow of colonialism still hangs over the country. Grandma Bee, the proud cigar-smoking matriarch of the Vanta family, is dying. Her family is complex, reflecting the many different groups calling Suriname home, and they're scattered over the country and beyond. Once she is gone what ties, if any, will bind them together? What makes a family, a legacy?
Off-White is a vivid family saga told in prose remeniscent of Toni Morrison or Montserrat Roig, deftly translated from the original Dutch. Sweeping back and forth through time, through memories, and across continents, it maps how generations themselves are created, how they disperse into the world but remain shaped by their family history, the links that can push or pull.
Characters emerge slowly and deliberately from the kaleidoscopic mix of thought, memory, and narration, but occasionally I had the feeling the camera had panned away too quickly at a crucial moment shaping who they are. Perhaps something more was at play there, though?
We don't always get the clearest picture of an event, but we see insidious colonialism in Bee's offhand comments, the shadow of male violence in Louise's protectiveness over her daughters, and the consequences of white-centric power structures in Heli's exile to the Netherlands. Some revelations needed a longer treatment, but I understand the continual return of focus to the family as a whole and the ripple effect of each event, even when subtle.
Though there's so much pain, Roemer is possibly most concerned with the possibilities of breaking cycles of trauma, reconciliation, and healing. The Vanta grandchildren emerge as bright points of hope from their complex, diverse family tree; they embody the future of Suriname, and Roemer throws her faith behind them.
A layered and often tricky read (check content warnings!) but one that I'm sure will only grow richer every revisit.
Suriname, 1966, and the long shadow of colonialism still hangs over the country. Grandma Bee, the proud cigar-smoking matriarch of the Vanta family, is dying. Her family is complex, reflecting the many different groups calling Suriname home, and they're scattered over the country and beyond. Once she is gone what ties, if any, will bind them together? What makes a family, a legacy?
Off-White is a vivid family saga told in prose remeniscent of Toni Morrison or Montserrat Roig, deftly translated from the original Dutch. Sweeping back and forth through time, through memories, and across continents, it maps how generations themselves are created, how they disperse into the world but remain shaped by their family history, the links that can push or pull.
Characters emerge slowly and deliberately from the kaleidoscopic mix of thought, memory, and narration, but occasionally I had the feeling the camera had panned away too quickly at a crucial moment shaping who they are. Perhaps something more was at play there, though?
We don't always get the clearest picture of an event, but we see insidious colonialism in Bee's offhand comments, the shadow of male violence in Louise's protectiveness over her daughters, and the consequences of white-centric power structures in Heli's exile to the Netherlands. Some revelations needed a longer treatment, but I understand the continual return of focus to the family as a whole and the ripple effect of each event, even when subtle.
Though there's so much pain, Roemer is possibly most concerned with the possibilities of breaking cycles of trauma, reconciliation, and healing. The Vanta grandchildren emerge as bright points of hope from their complex, diverse family tree; they embody the future of Suriname, and Roemer throws her faith behind them.
A layered and often tricky read (check content warnings!) but one that I'm sure will only grow richer every revisit.