“I read this book, a long while back, yet it still leaves a sour taste. I love biographies, and learning what makes us who we are, on the journey of life. I did read the whole book. Yet what I recall most, is the bitterness, blame, rage and resentment, that burned through her stories. She told a story of bitter neglect, blaming her famous Mom for her misery, and it only made me doubt how much of her tale was truth, and how much, was unresolved, raging, festering, wounded projection of emotions, outward.
I would have rather read a her life story, after some processing, and balancing in therapy. I recall her projecting her own "racial tensions," in some way on the musical group UB40, as if to say all white people only like UB40, in place of more pure black music. Now I avoid playing UB40, which I used to enjoy, amongst many other bands, as it reminds be of the bitter filters through which she spewed her pain onto the rest of us.
What I know of Rebecca's Mother, Alice Walker, is a deeply feeling artist, who feels both the pain and joys of self, and humanity. Rebecca's book & life story lacked the depth, humanity, awareness and experience of such a transpersonal perspective. I am glad I read it, yet I file her autobiography, down there, with the tragic story of Tatum O'Neal, and the other worst autobiography I ever read, Natalie Goldberg's "The Great Failure."
When tragedy does not feature a transcendent quality, it's simply a downer. If you are not fond of kvetching, don't favor whiney friends and family, and don't long to double as therapist, while reading, then save yourself a drag of a ride, that may be hard to erase, years into the future!
I hope that the author has grown since writing this, and finds her-"Self Shifting," into empowerment & grace.”
