A review by rick2
Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance by Barack Obama
5.0
There’s a narrative arc I really like. I don’t know that it is super common. But it feeds a romanticism about the world that I would like to believe in. It’s from those stories where someone knows who they are so strongly that the world has to bend to them. I see it in a movie like Hacksaw Ridge. Sherlock Holmes. Maximus in Gladiator. Captain America. Andy Dufrane from Shawshank Redemption. It isn’t the character that grows so much as the world that has to adapt to their iron clad convictions. Characters so confident in their essential being that they are not broken by the outside world as Hemingway fortells, but in the inevitable collision with a cold outside world, the surrounding world has to adapt to them.
Now, being a bit of a burgeoning cynic myself, I figured this was just a literary device. I appreciated the escapism, but gave little thought to any real truth behind it. Myshkin, ernest soul that he is, goes mad at the end of Dostoyevsky's The Idiot. Hemingway was likely right. When in conflict with the world, my personal experience has taught me that the world wins. Ned Stark, honorable man that he is, doesn't make it past the first season. Sorry, spoiler.
After reading Michelle Obama’s memoir, and watching Barack for 8 years as president, the rough impression I had of President Obama was that he was such a man. A man born into convictions. Convinced of his baring in the world. Strongly confident in his place and the role he was meant to play. Stoic even.
I figured he was born to it. Hawaiian mojo or something of the like. Never personally feeling the ease of comfort, except through exotic drug experimentation, I associated with someone of the presidents stature. I simply assumed that I must have missed that day in school where the mojo was handed out.
This book strongly refutes that idea. In fact, it seems uniquely positioned as a candid look into the mind of a future leader of America long before he had made the decision to run for office. Depictions of teenage violence, drug use, drinking and driving are contained. Empathy and honesty seem to flow freely. And no dogmatic answers are pushed upon the reader. Some of my favorite passages are those where an issue is laid out, and the conclusion is that there are no easy answers. There is searching, discomfort, racism throughout. And eventually, a wholeness of being that seems to come from closing the loop.
It’s easy to mythologize leaders and celebrities. It seems far more terrifying that those in charge might be human. With the same insecurities and failings we have. What does it mean if the man who is in charge is just as fragile as I feel? In this nonsense-burger of a year, with a reality television caricature as President, the incessant humm of propaganda and rhetoric filling every corner of the news. This book felt like a refreshing glass of reality flavored lemonade. Away from the outside world, the journey inward will provide a rich tapestry.
Beyond the political connotations of this book, which are probably impossible to separate from the author. At its core, this book shows a young man wrestling with who he is. It shows someone coming to terms with a complicated upbringing. A mostly absent father. Searching for his voice. His place.
I think a man has to make peace with the shadow cast by his father before he can become his own man. This book is more about that quest than it is any political treatise. And I think it has already proven helpful in my own search for identity. It’s given some comfort in the fact that the only way out of the uncertainty is through.
Now, being a bit of a burgeoning cynic myself, I figured this was just a literary device. I appreciated the escapism, but gave little thought to any real truth behind it. Myshkin, ernest soul that he is, goes mad at the end of Dostoyevsky's The Idiot. Hemingway was likely right. When in conflict with the world, my personal experience has taught me that the world wins. Ned Stark, honorable man that he is, doesn't make it past the first season. Sorry, spoiler.
After reading Michelle Obama’s memoir, and watching Barack for 8 years as president, the rough impression I had of President Obama was that he was such a man. A man born into convictions. Convinced of his baring in the world. Strongly confident in his place and the role he was meant to play. Stoic even.
I figured he was born to it. Hawaiian mojo or something of the like. Never personally feeling the ease of comfort, except through exotic drug experimentation, I associated with someone of the presidents stature. I simply assumed that I must have missed that day in school where the mojo was handed out.
This book strongly refutes that idea. In fact, it seems uniquely positioned as a candid look into the mind of a future leader of America long before he had made the decision to run for office. Depictions of teenage violence, drug use, drinking and driving are contained. Empathy and honesty seem to flow freely. And no dogmatic answers are pushed upon the reader. Some of my favorite passages are those where an issue is laid out, and the conclusion is that there are no easy answers. There is searching, discomfort, racism throughout. And eventually, a wholeness of being that seems to come from closing the loop.
It’s easy to mythologize leaders and celebrities. It seems far more terrifying that those in charge might be human. With the same insecurities and failings we have. What does it mean if the man who is in charge is just as fragile as I feel? In this nonsense-burger of a year, with a reality television caricature as President, the incessant humm of propaganda and rhetoric filling every corner of the news. This book felt like a refreshing glass of reality flavored lemonade. Away from the outside world, the journey inward will provide a rich tapestry.
Beyond the political connotations of this book, which are probably impossible to separate from the author. At its core, this book shows a young man wrestling with who he is. It shows someone coming to terms with a complicated upbringing. A mostly absent father. Searching for his voice. His place.
I think a man has to make peace with the shadow cast by his father before he can become his own man. This book is more about that quest than it is any political treatise. And I think it has already proven helpful in my own search for identity. It’s given some comfort in the fact that the only way out of the uncertainty is through.