Book of the Week. This book had been on my To-Read list for a long time. I guess it kept getting postponed because I knew how painful a story it told. But I also knew deep down that I would find great beauty in that pain, and I was not disappointed. People who greet each other daily with the single word Respect, and part with the words Find peace. People who try to squeeze all their love into small packets, in the time before mobile phones.
“You and I, we started wrong,” my mother said. “We are allowed to start again.”
Breath, Eyes, Memory
 |
 First edition | |
| Author | Edwidge Danticat |
|---|---|
| Language | English |
| Genre | Realistic Fiction |
| Publisher | Soho Press |
Publication date | 1994 |
| ISBN | 0-375-70504-X |
Breath, Eyes, Memory is Edwidge Danticat's acclaimed 1994 novel, and was chosen as an Oprah Book Club Selection in May 1998. The novel deals with questions of racial, linguistic and gender identity in interconnected ways.
Plot introduction[edit]
Breath, Eyes, Memory was Danticat's first novel, published when she was only twenty-five years old. As she has recounted in interviews, the book began as an essay of her childhood in Haiti and her move as a young girl to New York City.
The novel is written in a first person narrative. The narrator, Sophie Caco, relates her direct experiences and impressions from age 12 until she is in her twenties. Sophie is the product of a violent rape and is raised by her loving aunt in a village near Port-au-Prince for 12 years. At this point, Sophie is unexpectedly summoned by her mother, who lives in Brooklyn having gained asylum and immigrated to the United States. Living with her mother in New York, Sophie discovers the trauma her mother endures inclusive of violent nightmares reminiscent of her experience prior to fleeing Haiti.
The major conflict of the novel is the main character's battle with her inner self. Because she is a child of rape (her mother had been raped at the young age of 16 by an unknown man), she is a reminder to her mother of the wounds that had been inflicted on her. Her mother as a result of the rape remained this wounded but very resilient woman. Her mother came to resent her own self and body and constantly has nightmares about the rape. This, along with the fact that Sophie's mother practiced the act of testing (which is when she basically checks on her daughter to make sure that her daughter is still a virgin), causes Sophie to grow into the same type of woman as her mother. She grows into a woman who fights a battle with herself as a woman, wife, mother, as well as daughter. She is also in turn fighting the weight of her inheritance, as well as her mother's past experiences.
The rising action of the story is when Sophie leaves Haiti at age twelve to join her mother in the United States in New York. Sophie, despite her mother's warnings to focus on school and no men, falls in love with Joseph, a musician who lives next door to them. Sophie is caught one night by her mother when she returns home late. Her mother in turn begins testing her constantly to make sure she is still a virgin. Depression causes Sophie to act irrationally. One night she decides to penetrate herself with her mother's spice pestle so she can fail the test. When she fails her mother's test, she is thrown out of the house. She then elopes with Joseph and they marry.
The climax of the story comes after she marries Joseph. Sophie begins to feel frustrated and confused, both by anxieties and responsibilities. To get away from it all, she flees to Haiti along with her infant daughter, without a word to her husband, Joseph, who is away touring.
The falling action is when her mother, Martine, also comes to Haiti. Sophie hadn't spoken to her mother since her mother had thrown her out the house when she had failed the virginity test. That was about two years earlier. It is during that trip to Haiti that both mother and daughter reconcile. They return to New York and all seems well, until Sophie's mother becomes pregnant by her fiancé, Marc, and in turn commits suicide.
Testing[edit]
"Testing" has been a Haitian tradition for centuries. During earlier times, Haitians associated the idea of virtue with a woman's virginity. A young woman growing up in a Haitian household is encouraged to value her virtue and virginity. The novel describes how family values and virtue of women are very important to the Haitian culture. The main character, Sophie, is shattered throughout the novel, due to the traumatic experience of her mother's continuous tests. Her mother would often test her vagina to make sure she was still a virgin. These tests leave a dynamic scar on Sophie even after she marries Joseph. She has low self-esteem as a result of these tests. The tests also lead to a deterioration in the relationship between mother and daughter. When she marries Joseph, she is unable to have sex with him because she has a phobia of sex. The only way she is ever able to make love to him is through “doubling”: She must pretend she isn't really there because the very act of sex so repels her.
References[edit]
- SparkNotes Editors. "SparkNotes on Breath, Eyes, memory.: SparkNotes LLC.n.d..http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/breatheyes (accessed April 1, 2010)
- Danticat, Edwidge. Breath, Eyes, memory. New York: Vintage Books, 1998. 2nd Vintage Contemporaries Edition.
Categories:
1994 American novels
Novels by Edwidge Danticat
American bildungsromans
Novels about rape
Novels set in Haiti
Novels set in New York City
1994 debut novels
===
Breath, Eyes, Memory
by
3.89 · Rating details · 28,202 ratings · 1,501 reviews
At the age of twelve, Sophie Caco is sent from her impoverished village of Croix-des-Rosets to New York, to be reunited with a mother she barely remembers. There she discovers secrets that no child should ever know, and a legacy of shame that can be healed only when she returns to Haiti--to the women who first reared her. What ensues is a passionate journey through a landscape charged with the supernatural and scarred by political violence, in a novel that bears witness to the traditions, suffering, and wisdom of an entire people.
At an astonishingly young age, Edwidge Danticat has become one of our most celebrated new novelists, a writer who evokes the wonder, terror, and heartache of her native Haiti--and the enduring strength of Haiti's women--with a vibrant imagery and narrative grace that bear witness to her people's suffering and courage. (less)
At an astonishingly young age, Edwidge Danticat has become one of our most celebrated new novelists, a writer who evokes the wonder, terror, and heartache of her native Haiti--and the enduring strength of Haiti's women--with a vibrant imagery and narrative grace that bear witness to her people's suffering and courage. (less)
Paperback, 234 pages
Published May 18th 1998 by Vintage (first published April 1st 1994)
Original Title
Breath, Eyes, Memory
ISBN
037570504X (ISBN13: 9780375705045)
Edition Language
English
Setting
Haiti
New York (State) (United States)
New York (State) (United States)
| Review of | ISBN 9780375705045 | |
| Rating | ||
| Shelves | to-read ( 1267th ) | |
| Format | Paperback edit | |
| Status | January 15, 2022 – Shelved as: to-read January 15, 2022 – Shelved | |
| Review | Write a review | |
Recommend This Book None of your friends have reviewed this book yet.
Ask the Goodreads community a question about Breath, Eyes, Memory
Popular Answered Questions
Oprah's Book Club Picks
89 books — 2,220 voters
Caribbean/West Indian Diaspora Literature - Women (fiction)
204 books — 150 voters
More lists with this book...
Showing 1-30
"I come from a place where breath, eyes, and memory are one, a place from which you carry your past like the hair on your head."
This book is really quite sad. The characters are weighed down with such misery and heartache as they shoulder the burden of nearly unbearable memories. These memories are carried within the women of this story and are passed through the generations where they persist and wreak havoc on the psyches of both mothers and daughters. Sophie has been raised in Haiti by her Tante Atie for the first twelve years of her life. Sophie’s mother, carrying a shame she could not bear, fled to New York to escape a past that haunts her. Sophie has led a reasonably happy life for a child living in a poor country rife with political unrest and violence. "We come from a place, where in one instant, you can lose your father and all your other dreams." When her mother finally sends for Sophie, Sophie does not want to leave but has no choice. She does not know this mother and she will be leaving behind the one she has always thought of as her mother. Not only that, she is also faced with the challenges of immigrating to a foreign country. "My mother said it was important that I learn English quickly. Otherwise, the American students would make fun of me or, even worse, beat me." Sophie will need to adapt quickly, and learn about her mother and her mother’s demons that torment her dreams each night. But when pain begets further pain in a relentless cycle, Sophie will need to return to her roots to discover the truth and begin the slow process of healing.
What I loved most about Breath, Eyes, Memory were some of the lyrical descriptions of Haiti and its people. Danticat does this so well. The bonds between women – sisters, mothers, daughters, grandmothers – are also explored and are fascinating, complex and often heartbreaking. Certain traditions that are passed on are simply shocking and perplexing. What I found to be lacking in this novel, however, was a feeling of connection to any of these women. The dialogue felt abrupt and distant. The closeness I expected to feel with these women was just not there; although I did feel compassion for them in general. There were some big jumps in time that may have caused the character development to suffer. The sense of a cohesive plot was missing at times as well. In some ways, aside from the very heavy and unsettling topics within these pages, I got the sense this was more like a YA novel. Not that I’d recommend this to a young adult because I personally would not. Perhaps it was the relatively young age of the author at the time this was written that came through to me. Nevertheless, she is still to be applauded for taking on these tough themes and I do think she has much to offer. I enjoyed The Farming of Bones more than this and would recommend that if you have not yet read anything by Edwidge Danticat. This one gets 2.5 stars rounded up. (less)
This book is really quite sad. The characters are weighed down with such misery and heartache as they shoulder the burden of nearly unbearable memories. These memories are carried within the women of this story and are passed through the generations where they persist and wreak havoc on the psyches of both mothers and daughters. Sophie has been raised in Haiti by her Tante Atie for the first twelve years of her life. Sophie’s mother, carrying a shame she could not bear, fled to New York to escape a past that haunts her. Sophie has led a reasonably happy life for a child living in a poor country rife with political unrest and violence. "We come from a place, where in one instant, you can lose your father and all your other dreams." When her mother finally sends for Sophie, Sophie does not want to leave but has no choice. She does not know this mother and she will be leaving behind the one she has always thought of as her mother. Not only that, she is also faced with the challenges of immigrating to a foreign country. "My mother said it was important that I learn English quickly. Otherwise, the American students would make fun of me or, even worse, beat me." Sophie will need to adapt quickly, and learn about her mother and her mother’s demons that torment her dreams each night. But when pain begets further pain in a relentless cycle, Sophie will need to return to her roots to discover the truth and begin the slow process of healing.
What I loved most about Breath, Eyes, Memory were some of the lyrical descriptions of Haiti and its people. Danticat does this so well. The bonds between women – sisters, mothers, daughters, grandmothers – are also explored and are fascinating, complex and often heartbreaking. Certain traditions that are passed on are simply shocking and perplexing. What I found to be lacking in this novel, however, was a feeling of connection to any of these women. The dialogue felt abrupt and distant. The closeness I expected to feel with these women was just not there; although I did feel compassion for them in general. There were some big jumps in time that may have caused the character development to suffer. The sense of a cohesive plot was missing at times as well. In some ways, aside from the very heavy and unsettling topics within these pages, I got the sense this was more like a YA novel. Not that I’d recommend this to a young adult because I personally would not. Perhaps it was the relatively young age of the author at the time this was written that came through to me. Nevertheless, she is still to be applauded for taking on these tough themes and I do think she has much to offer. I enjoyed The Farming of Bones more than this and would recommend that if you have not yet read anything by Edwidge Danticat. This one gets 2.5 stars rounded up. (less)
“The tale is not a tale unless I tell. Let the words bring wings to our feet.” - Edwidge Danticat, “Breath, Eyes, Memory.”
My first read for Black History Month, “Breath, Eyes, Memory” is Edwidge Danticat’s first novel and I loved it. This writer introduced me to Haitian literature over a decade ago and I feel strong feelings of kinship with her.
This was a beautiful and moving story about a young Haitian girl named Sophia, whose mother leaves her with an aunt in Haiti as a baby and moves to New York to escape bad memories and get a better life for herself. When Sophia is finally reunited with her mother at the age of 12, she is a girl wise beyond her years, trying to navigate herself in an unfamiliar environment, using a strange language, with a mother she doesn’t really know:
“Night had just fallen. Lights glowed everywhere. A long string of cars sped along the highway, each like a single diamond on a very long bracelet.”
I was struck by that description. How would the busy streets of NYC look to a young girl freshly arrived from the Third World?
I’ve heard far too many stories of families separated by immigration. We hear about families reuniting but rarely do we hear about the difficulties they face trying to re-adapt to each other and make up for lost time. Danticat brings these issues to the forefront.
Despite depicting some of Haiti’s violent history, it was a hopeful book, one infused with Haitian thought and mentality, mostly through stories, songs and the grandmother’s wisdom, the grandmother, who like mine, has been preparing for her own funeral for years. The part about the grandmother definitely touched me; it hit very close to home.
The descriptions of Haiti were evocative; it felt like Danticat was drawing from her own memories there:
“The mid-morning sky looked like an old quilt, with long bands of red and indigo stretching their way past drifting clouds. Like everything else, eventually even the rainbows disappeared.”
I know this book will speak a lot to a lot of immigrants, especially those who question where home is. Being stuck between two worlds as well as experiencing the generation gap is a double whammy for many immigrant kids. Old practices continue to take place in their new home; however, with a new westernized mentality it can all be hard to take. The unbelievable stress a young immigrant faces having to live up to high expectations, after all their family sacrificed so much for them to have a better life is something that is a real issue:
“If you make something of yourself in life, we will all succeed. You can raise our heads.”
Reading this made me dwell on how much the world is changing. My first language is different from my mother’s and my grandparents’, I can’t even communicate with some of my relatives because we don’t have a language in common. My relatives are spread out all across the globe. Changes beget changes and questions about identity and the value of tradition abound. (less)
My first read for Black History Month, “Breath, Eyes, Memory” is Edwidge Danticat’s first novel and I loved it. This writer introduced me to Haitian literature over a decade ago and I feel strong feelings of kinship with her.
This was a beautiful and moving story about a young Haitian girl named Sophia, whose mother leaves her with an aunt in Haiti as a baby and moves to New York to escape bad memories and get a better life for herself. When Sophia is finally reunited with her mother at the age of 12, she is a girl wise beyond her years, trying to navigate herself in an unfamiliar environment, using a strange language, with a mother she doesn’t really know:
“Night had just fallen. Lights glowed everywhere. A long string of cars sped along the highway, each like a single diamond on a very long bracelet.”
I was struck by that description. How would the busy streets of NYC look to a young girl freshly arrived from the Third World?
I’ve heard far too many stories of families separated by immigration. We hear about families reuniting but rarely do we hear about the difficulties they face trying to re-adapt to each other and make up for lost time. Danticat brings these issues to the forefront.
Despite depicting some of Haiti’s violent history, it was a hopeful book, one infused with Haitian thought and mentality, mostly through stories, songs and the grandmother’s wisdom, the grandmother, who like mine, has been preparing for her own funeral for years. The part about the grandmother definitely touched me; it hit very close to home.
The descriptions of Haiti were evocative; it felt like Danticat was drawing from her own memories there:
“The mid-morning sky looked like an old quilt, with long bands of red and indigo stretching their way past drifting clouds. Like everything else, eventually even the rainbows disappeared.”
I know this book will speak a lot to a lot of immigrants, especially those who question where home is. Being stuck between two worlds as well as experiencing the generation gap is a double whammy for many immigrant kids. Old practices continue to take place in their new home; however, with a new westernized mentality it can all be hard to take. The unbelievable stress a young immigrant faces having to live up to high expectations, after all their family sacrificed so much for them to have a better life is something that is a real issue:
“If you make something of yourself in life, we will all succeed. You can raise our heads.”
Reading this made me dwell on how much the world is changing. My first language is different from my mother’s and my grandparents’, I can’t even communicate with some of my relatives because we don’t have a language in common. My relatives are spread out all across the globe. Changes beget changes and questions about identity and the value of tradition abound. (less)
In lyrical prose Danticat’s debut swiftly charts the highs and lows of a Haitian-American daughter’s fraught bond with her mother over the course of decades. The first few sections focusing on her move to America, upbringing, and estrangement from her mom seem the best, in that they sketch a slow-moving, subtle portrait of the life the two build and share, then lose. After the middle a great many more subplots are introduced and social issues taken on, and the novel careens toward a blunt end, with several storylines feeling only half realized. (less)
Immediately prioritized this book by a Haitian-American writer after reading about the "shithole countries" comment, and I'm so glad I did. There's so much going on artistically, it leaves you in awe even as it breaks your heart.
Sophie grows up in Haiti with her aunt until age 12, when she is sent to New York City to live with her mother. It would be hard enough to live between two places, never having a true sense of home, but Sophie’s life is further shadowed by the painful knowledge of why her mother couldn’t raise her (which I won’t spoil here). Danticat explores how the legacy of violence and hurt are inherited by each new generation, and the herculean effort of will required to break those patterns.
Even though thematically this is a tough book to read, the prose is spare and the pages fly. I never could decide if I wanted to speed up so the pain would be over, or if I wanted to slow down and let myself feel the impact. This is the kind of book you could read over and over and still not catch everything Danticat is doing, but I don’t think my heart could handle multiple close readings.
At the back of my paperback copy, the publisher includes a note from Danticat addressed to her character, Sophie, in which she says she feels compelled to explain that not all children growing up in Haiti suffer exactly like Sophie does. Apparently some readers of the book have not understood that one character’s experiences from one fictional work cannot be generalized over the actual human population of an entire country. It created uncomfortable resonance when, after reading her eloquent response to the “shithole” comment, it occurred to me that Danticat is still, all these years later, having to explain herself to an audience of ignorants.
More book recommendations by me at www.readingwithhippos.com (less)
Sophie grows up in Haiti with her aunt until age 12, when she is sent to New York City to live with her mother. It would be hard enough to live between two places, never having a true sense of home, but Sophie’s life is further shadowed by the painful knowledge of why her mother couldn’t raise her (which I won’t spoil here). Danticat explores how the legacy of violence and hurt are inherited by each new generation, and the herculean effort of will required to break those patterns.
Even though thematically this is a tough book to read, the prose is spare and the pages fly. I never could decide if I wanted to speed up so the pain would be over, or if I wanted to slow down and let myself feel the impact. This is the kind of book you could read over and over and still not catch everything Danticat is doing, but I don’t think my heart could handle multiple close readings.
At the back of my paperback copy, the publisher includes a note from Danticat addressed to her character, Sophie, in which she says she feels compelled to explain that not all children growing up in Haiti suffer exactly like Sophie does. Apparently some readers of the book have not understood that one character’s experiences from one fictional work cannot be generalized over the actual human population of an entire country. It created uncomfortable resonance when, after reading her eloquent response to the “shithole” comment, it occurred to me that Danticat is still, all these years later, having to explain herself to an audience of ignorants.
More book recommendations by me at www.readingwithhippos.com (less)
Feb 17, 2019Monica rated it really liked it · review of another edition
Shelves: kindle_fiction, classics, aoc-female, worldwide, historical-fiction, aoc, female-author-fic, pub_1990s
Breath, Eyes, Memory was a bit of a surprise for me. Of course I expected it to be good. It is a modern classic. What I didn't expect was that it would be so immersing. I was completely captivated by this story about a Haitian immigrant and her culture and family history. Not uplifting, not perfect; but stunning!
Almost 4.5 Stars
Read on kindle. (less)
Almost 4.5 Stars
Read on kindle. (less)
Feb 05, 2017Zanna rated it really liked it · review of another edition
Shelves: caribbean, bechdel-pass, feminism
I think this story is about how women are traumatised by each other under patriarchy; how trauma makes us pass on trauma and abuse even especially to those we love. I found the story achingly sad, since the only way to break the cycle, to refuse to pass on the pain, is to free yourself somewhat from the one who hurt you, to break your connection with them on some level, even if you continue to love and care for them.
Apart from this deep insight into the violence wreaked upon girls and woman and the chain of suffering and re-victimisation that comes out of it, and the limited possibilities for healing, I enjoyed this book for its sonorous poetry. The part when our protagonist, Sophie, returns from New York City to stay with her Tante Atie and grandmother is strikingly beautiful. The poet who is the author’s proxy here is the driver of the bus in which Sophie travels with her baby daughter. He flirts with her, and flirting is a very dangerous art to practice because it may be violence, even if the intent is not selfish, and not to harm. It may be safer never to flirt, and similarly it may be safer to reject all sexual contact and retreat to a monastery (and there may be an awesome beautiful life there too) but maybe we can also tread the difficult path and find liberatory ways of engaging in such dangerous acts…
Here I think the driver’s flirting is relatively safe, because Sophie with her daughter Brigitte, and her wedding ring, feels neither vulnerable (problematically, she has a protected status conferred a legal proven attachment to some man) nor desireable at the point when the driver praises her as if he were making her into a religion. We do not find out how Sophie feels about the driver’s attentions, except insofar as she continues to respond conversationally to him. Our attention is drawn to how her beauty grants her the privilege of the best seat on the bus. The world is neither as kind nor as equal as we would wish. Comfort and tenderness are paid for in treacherous currencies. Sophie is journeying away from people whose love for her expresses itself in demands, towards the refuge of Tante Atie, who refused her poem, her love-offering, out of selflessness. Peace and refuge and consolation and healing are found in love that asks nothing in return. The driver’s reverence, with its language of consuming and possessing, perhaps marks a transition between those who love her greedily, and those who love and accept and shelter her without conditions:
Apart from this deep insight into the violence wreaked upon girls and woman and the chain of suffering and re-victimisation that comes out of it, and the limited possibilities for healing, I enjoyed this book for its sonorous poetry. The part when our protagonist, Sophie, returns from New York City to stay with her Tante Atie and grandmother is strikingly beautiful. The poet who is the author’s proxy here is the driver of the bus in which Sophie travels with her baby daughter. He flirts with her, and flirting is a very dangerous art to practice because it may be violence, even if the intent is not selfish, and not to harm. It may be safer never to flirt, and similarly it may be safer to reject all sexual contact and retreat to a monastery (and there may be an awesome beautiful life there too) but maybe we can also tread the difficult path and find liberatory ways of engaging in such dangerous acts…
Here I think the driver’s flirting is relatively safe, because Sophie with her daughter Brigitte, and her wedding ring, feels neither vulnerable (problematically, she has a protected status conferred a legal proven attachment to some man) nor desireable at the point when the driver praises her as if he were making her into a religion. We do not find out how Sophie feels about the driver’s attentions, except insofar as she continues to respond conversationally to him. Our attention is drawn to how her beauty grants her the privilege of the best seat on the bus. The world is neither as kind nor as equal as we would wish. Comfort and tenderness are paid for in treacherous currencies. Sophie is journeying away from people whose love for her expresses itself in demands, towards the refuge of Tante Atie, who refused her poem, her love-offering, out of selflessness. Peace and refuge and consolation and healing are found in love that asks nothing in return. The driver’s reverence, with its language of consuming and possessing, perhaps marks a transition between those who love her greedily, and those who love and accept and shelter her without conditions:
Great god in Guinea, you are beautiful… I would crawl inside your dress and live there. I can feed on your beauty like a leech feeds on blood. I would live and die for you. More than the sky loves its stars. More than the night loves its moon. More than the sea loves its mermaids.(Is the sea terrible or is it, for mermaids at least, refuge?) Despite the potentially frightening hunger of his words, his devotion is poured out on the dry ground of Sophie’s merely polite reponse like a libation. She has the power (with the help of her women-relatives and friends) to temporarily retreat from those fearful promises. Maybe it is a choice between passion and peace. When and where and how will we be able to offer each other both? (less)
Jun 23, 2018Chrissie rated it did not like it
Shelves: hf, audible-uk, returned, 2018-read, relationships, usa, love, immigrants, life-stages, haiti
There is an Haitian tradition known as ”testing”. Haitian mothers have for centuries been taught that it is their duty, their obligation as good mothers, to test for their daughters’ virginity. An unmarried woman, having lost her virginity, has no virtue and is without value. Mothers insert their fingers into a daughter’s vagina to confirm that the hymen is intact. I was unaware of this tradition. It revolts me. I see it as barbaric, cruel, incomprehensible. How in the world can a mother maintain with her daughter a loving, trusting and compassionate relationship with a daughter after such an act?! And not once but repeatedly. It has detrimental psychological repercussions, is ineffective and unhygienic. (For more about the tradition see: http://www.siecus.org/index.cfm?fusea...) It is not a tradition restricted only to Haiti.
Reading about this disturbing practice is NOT why I dislike the book. In fact, it is good that people are made aware. The novel failed me despite that it brings attention to a worthy topic.
The book tackles many disturbing subjects besides “virginity testing”. Rape, breast cancer, eating disorders, insomnia, nightmares, sexual, lingual and racial discrimination are other topics of this book. Psychological disorders, lack of self-esteem and immigrant assimilation are additional topics that play in. The number of heavy topics covered make it difficult to give adequate depth to each.
Here is the gist of the story. The central character, Sophie Caco, is the product of her mother’s rape. Her mother flees Haiti to the north—Brooklyn, New York City. I am guessing this is probably in the 1980s or 1990s since HIV and AIDS are a problem. Sophie remains in Haiti to be raised by her mother’s sister, Tant Atie, until her mother sends for her, when she is twelve. She doesn’t know her mother. She does not want to leave Haiti and her mother emotionally views her daughter with hatred. She is visual proof of the rape she is unable to forget. One can question why she now sends for her daughter!
A central focus are the grandmother-mother-daughter-granddaughter relationships. Have you noted the absence of men in this human equation? Men are in the sidelines of this story. Their actions affect women, but it is women we study. I prefer a book that focuses on both sexes, how we influence each other. Isn’t it more productive, isn’t it more interesting to focus on both, rather than furthering the divide? The female relationships, as they are described in this book, are misshapen, beaten out of the recognizably healthy and normal.
Did I feel for the characters? No. Nothing. This is bad news, given that what they go through is truly horrendous. The author has failed to make their suffering mine. Which leads one to ask why this is so.
In my view, the prose is the answer. It is the weakest aspect of the book. It is ordinary. It is run-of-the-mill. It is flat. It is off-key. The dialogs are stilted. What the characters say and think does not feel genuine, at least not to me. One teeny example, to illustrate my point: (view spoiler) The lines quite simply seem wrong. All too often I would ask myself, “Why would the character say that? Why would she draw that conclusion? Would a person actually say that?” The characters’ thoughts seemed all too often illogical to me.
It is interesting to look at the two sisters, the mother who leaves her child and the aunt that cares for Sophie. One comes to learn that Tant Atie sacrificed much for her niece and her sister. I think more could have been done with this theme. I kept comparing the two, but this line of thought just fizzles out.
I have another complaint. The resolution of Sophie and her mother’s troubled relationship is too rapid. The reader does not vividly experience the healing process. Instead, we are thrown into another new problem. Martine, Sophie’s mother, finds (view spoiler). As mentioned above, problems are heaped one upon another in rapid succession.
I have no complaint with the narration of the audiobook performed by Robin Miles. Very good, as always. I had a hard time enjoying the narration due to my lack of appreciation for the writing. (less)
Reading about this disturbing practice is NOT why I dislike the book. In fact, it is good that people are made aware. The novel failed me despite that it brings attention to a worthy topic.
The book tackles many disturbing subjects besides “virginity testing”. Rape, breast cancer, eating disorders, insomnia, nightmares, sexual, lingual and racial discrimination are other topics of this book. Psychological disorders, lack of self-esteem and immigrant assimilation are additional topics that play in. The number of heavy topics covered make it difficult to give adequate depth to each.
Here is the gist of the story. The central character, Sophie Caco, is the product of her mother’s rape. Her mother flees Haiti to the north—Brooklyn, New York City. I am guessing this is probably in the 1980s or 1990s since HIV and AIDS are a problem. Sophie remains in Haiti to be raised by her mother’s sister, Tant Atie, until her mother sends for her, when she is twelve. She doesn’t know her mother. She does not want to leave Haiti and her mother emotionally views her daughter with hatred. She is visual proof of the rape she is unable to forget. One can question why she now sends for her daughter!
A central focus are the grandmother-mother-daughter-granddaughter relationships. Have you noted the absence of men in this human equation? Men are in the sidelines of this story. Their actions affect women, but it is women we study. I prefer a book that focuses on both sexes, how we influence each other. Isn’t it more productive, isn’t it more interesting to focus on both, rather than furthering the divide? The female relationships, as they are described in this book, are misshapen, beaten out of the recognizably healthy and normal.
Did I feel for the characters? No. Nothing. This is bad news, given that what they go through is truly horrendous. The author has failed to make their suffering mine. Which leads one to ask why this is so.
In my view, the prose is the answer. It is the weakest aspect of the book. It is ordinary. It is run-of-the-mill. It is flat. It is off-key. The dialogs are stilted. What the characters say and think does not feel genuine, at least not to me. One teeny example, to illustrate my point: (view spoiler) The lines quite simply seem wrong. All too often I would ask myself, “Why would the character say that? Why would she draw that conclusion? Would a person actually say that?” The characters’ thoughts seemed all too often illogical to me.
It is interesting to look at the two sisters, the mother who leaves her child and the aunt that cares for Sophie. One comes to learn that Tant Atie sacrificed much for her niece and her sister. I think more could have been done with this theme. I kept comparing the two, but this line of thought just fizzles out.
I have another complaint. The resolution of Sophie and her mother’s troubled relationship is too rapid. The reader does not vividly experience the healing process. Instead, we are thrown into another new problem. Martine, Sophie’s mother, finds (view spoiler). As mentioned above, problems are heaped one upon another in rapid succession.
I have no complaint with the narration of the audiobook performed by Robin Miles. Very good, as always. I had a hard time enjoying the narration due to my lack of appreciation for the writing. (less)
This is a quiet but beautiful book. While it may not shimmer with literary acrobatics, its prose is clear as water, and the narrative structure literally tugs the reader through it. Had I the time, I could have read this in one sitting. It's that effortless. And yes, Danticat was only 24 when she wrote it!
At times I wanted Danticat to take me deeper into the complex lives of this multi-generational circle of women and the unspoken pasts that haunt them. Many of the 35 chapters are brief and/or fragmentary. The plot drives on when I wanted it to linger. Yet by the final third of the novel, I appreciated her sparse, crisp style. This is not a book heavy on style; much of it is dialog, for instance. Instead this novel is a celebration of storytelling and the bonds--both fractured and sound--between mothers and daughters. Breath, Eyes, Memory delves into issues of regret and anger and forgiveness and letting go the ghosts of our pasts and healing from hurt. And her characters are so brilliantly drawn, the message so profound. Stick with it to the end, and you'll be rewarded.
I couldn't help but think of other great novels while reading this one: Kingston's The Woman Warrior, Hosseini's The Kite Runner, and Amy Tan's The Bonesetter's Daughter. Breath, Eyes, Memory certainly belongs in this esteemed group of novels. I also highly recommend her second work, Krik? Krak!. (less)
At times I wanted Danticat to take me deeper into the complex lives of this multi-generational circle of women and the unspoken pasts that haunt them. Many of the 35 chapters are brief and/or fragmentary. The plot drives on when I wanted it to linger. Yet by the final third of the novel, I appreciated her sparse, crisp style. This is not a book heavy on style; much of it is dialog, for instance. Instead this novel is a celebration of storytelling and the bonds--both fractured and sound--between mothers and daughters. Breath, Eyes, Memory delves into issues of regret and anger and forgiveness and letting go the ghosts of our pasts and healing from hurt. And her characters are so brilliantly drawn, the message so profound. Stick with it to the end, and you'll be rewarded.
I couldn't help but think of other great novels while reading this one: Kingston's The Woman Warrior, Hosseini's The Kite Runner, and Amy Tan's The Bonesetter's Daughter. Breath, Eyes, Memory certainly belongs in this esteemed group of novels. I also highly recommend her second work, Krik? Krak!. (less)
*sigh* Okay, what did I think of the book, what did I think? Well, by my grade I'm sure you can tell I wasn't too fond of the book and didn't like it all that much. I wish I could leave it at that, but I'm a person who's solidly against criticisms without any sort of reason to back it up with. So... let's explain why I didn't really like it...
First of all, the story itself really didn't interest me at all. Sure there were moments that I couldn't put it down, but most of the time I was bored by it. Maybe because I didn't share any ties or connections to it. In many stories, to feel any sort of attraction or pull to it, you sort of have to have some sort of thing to relate to it with. This book I didn't really have that. I think other people could just as easily relate to and enjoy this story much more than I could.
I think I also didn't like the story because it didn't seem that developed. It still seemed to be in a younger stage of writing, and possibly that's Edwidge Danticat's style, but I think it would have enriched and helped the story so much more if she had added more detail to it. It was very simple in many ways. And I don't want to think that she's trying to reflect the simplicity of the Haitian people or something, because Haiti and this time they're all living in is not simple at all. It's rich in color and thick with strife. And New York is a hustle and bustle of different people and business, while love is a full and strong emotion. None of that was explored, and I know the book could have been so much more had it been.
Once again I had a time issue on my hands. In such a short book I can understand why Sophie suddenly jumped in age, but it was difficult and a bit confusing to follow. Especially because it seemed so much happened in between the two different ages and it felt like I was expected to know what happened. I don't mind it when we have time switches on our hands... it's just I like it when it's a smooth switch, or it's explained in a smooth way, or just... it's not as choppy as it was in this story.
This book could very well be a wonderful book for someone else to read... but for me... well, it just wasn't my style. (less)
First of all, the story itself really didn't interest me at all. Sure there were moments that I couldn't put it down, but most of the time I was bored by it. Maybe because I didn't share any ties or connections to it. In many stories, to feel any sort of attraction or pull to it, you sort of have to have some sort of thing to relate to it with. This book I didn't really have that. I think other people could just as easily relate to and enjoy this story much more than I could.
I think I also didn't like the story because it didn't seem that developed. It still seemed to be in a younger stage of writing, and possibly that's Edwidge Danticat's style, but I think it would have enriched and helped the story so much more if she had added more detail to it. It was very simple in many ways. And I don't want to think that she's trying to reflect the simplicity of the Haitian people or something, because Haiti and this time they're all living in is not simple at all. It's rich in color and thick with strife. And New York is a hustle and bustle of different people and business, while love is a full and strong emotion. None of that was explored, and I know the book could have been so much more had it been.
Once again I had a time issue on my hands. In such a short book I can understand why Sophie suddenly jumped in age, but it was difficult and a bit confusing to follow. Especially because it seemed so much happened in between the two different ages and it felt like I was expected to know what happened. I don't mind it when we have time switches on our hands... it's just I like it when it's a smooth switch, or it's explained in a smooth way, or just... it's not as choppy as it was in this story.
This book could very well be a wonderful book for someone else to read... but for me... well, it just wasn't my style. (less)
May 01, 2016Darkowaa rated it really liked it
This is a beautifully painful story. But does Danticat ever write happy stories? (Because 'Krik? Krak!' had some sad elements in most of the short stories lol). I don't even know how to review this... Breath, Eyes, Memory is a sad book that is written in such a calm manner - Danticat style! Its deep with so many issues that span across 3 generations of women. Grandma Ifé (Manman) and her daughters -Tante Atie, Martine (who moved to NY) and her granddaughter Sophie (the main character of this book) seem to be victims of terrible circumstances, constantly living in a nightmare. I have questions though: was Tante Atie a lesbian? Her relationship and attachment with Louise made me think so... Also, was Martine suffering from psychosis?
Reading this book teaches you to empathize with others. So many people in this world are going through shit. Some women can't sleep at night because of sexual abuse; Some (women) hate themselves and their bodies because of sexual abuse; Some peoples' marriages are suffering because of sexual abuse from the past; Cultural/Family practices that police girls' sexuality have severe, adverse effects on women. There are so many layers to this tale and Danticat's passionate writing definitely makes you empathize. I doubt I'd ever read Breath, Eyes, Memory again, but I'm glad I finally read it :)
MORE ON THE BOOK BLOG SOON! - africanbookaddict.com (less)
Reading this book teaches you to empathize with others. So many people in this world are going through shit. Some women can't sleep at night because of sexual abuse; Some (women) hate themselves and their bodies because of sexual abuse; Some peoples' marriages are suffering because of sexual abuse from the past; Cultural/Family practices that police girls' sexuality have severe, adverse effects on women. There are so many layers to this tale and Danticat's passionate writing definitely makes you empathize. I doubt I'd ever read Breath, Eyes, Memory again, but I'm glad I finally read it :)
MORE ON THE BOOK BLOG SOON! - africanbookaddict.com (less)
Jun 08, 2015Claire rated it it was amazing
Breath, Eyes, Memory is a book that feels like a comfortable companion, a story of a young girl Sophie, growing up with her Aunt, Tante Atie, in Haiti, her grandmother not far away. The Aunt is is the edlest child in the family, an unmarried woman, taking care of her sister's child.
Sophie's mother is in New York and when she is 12 years old sends a ticket for her to come. Sophie thinks of her Aunt as her mother, she makes her a mother's day card, her Aunt encourages her to take it with to the mother she doesn't remember.
Sophie's mother works as a care worker, she takes her daughter with her, until she can start school, she presses on her the importance of an education. She has terrible nightmares most nights, connected to the reason she left Hiati and her daughter behind.
It is a simple read and yet an extraordinary book, the lives of these characters seep into the reader, these generations of women raising their daughters alone, living with their demons of the past, trying to ensure nothing of their suffering passes on to the next generation.
It is the first of Edwidge Danticat's books I have read, I can't wait to read more.
My complete review here at Word by Word. (less)
Sophie's mother is in New York and when she is 12 years old sends a ticket for her to come. Sophie thinks of her Aunt as her mother, she makes her a mother's day card, her Aunt encourages her to take it with to the mother she doesn't remember.
Sophie's mother works as a care worker, she takes her daughter with her, until she can start school, she presses on her the importance of an education. She has terrible nightmares most nights, connected to the reason she left Hiati and her daughter behind.
It is a simple read and yet an extraordinary book, the lives of these characters seep into the reader, these generations of women raising their daughters alone, living with their demons of the past, trying to ensure nothing of their suffering passes on to the next generation.
It is the first of Edwidge Danticat's books I have read, I can't wait to read more.
My complete review here at Word by Word. (less)
Feb 01, 2008Christa rated it it was amazing
“She told me about a group of people in Guinea who carry the sky on their heads. They are the people of Creation. Strong, tall, and mighty people who can bear anything. Their Maker, she said, gives them the sky to carry because they are strong. These people do not know who they are, but if you see a lot of trouble in your life, it is because you were chosen to carry part of the sky on your head.”
“Tante Atie once said that love is like rain. It comes in a drizzle sometimes. Then it starts pouring and if you’re not careful it will drown you.”
“There is always a place where women live near trees that, blowing in the wind, sound like music. These women tell stories to their children both to frighten and delight them. These women, they are fluttering lanterns on the hills, the fireflies in the night, the faces that loom over you and recreate the same unspeakable acts that they themselves lived through. There is always a place where nightmares are passed on through generations like heirlooms. Where women like cardinal birds return to look at their own faces in stagnant bodies of water.
I come from a place where breath, eyes and memory are one, a place from which you carry your past like the hair on your head. Where women return to their children as butterflies or as tears in the eyes of the statues that their daughters pray to. My mother was as brave as stars at dawn. She too was from this place. My mother was like that woman who could never bleed and then could never stop bleeding, the one who gave in to her pain, to live as a butterfly. Yes, my mother was like me.” (less)
“Tante Atie once said that love is like rain. It comes in a drizzle sometimes. Then it starts pouring and if you’re not careful it will drown you.”
“There is always a place where women live near trees that, blowing in the wind, sound like music. These women tell stories to their children both to frighten and delight them. These women, they are fluttering lanterns on the hills, the fireflies in the night, the faces that loom over you and recreate the same unspeakable acts that they themselves lived through. There is always a place where nightmares are passed on through generations like heirlooms. Where women like cardinal birds return to look at their own faces in stagnant bodies of water.
I come from a place where breath, eyes and memory are one, a place from which you carry your past like the hair on your head. Where women return to their children as butterflies or as tears in the eyes of the statues that their daughters pray to. My mother was as brave as stars at dawn. She too was from this place. My mother was like that woman who could never bleed and then could never stop bleeding, the one who gave in to her pain, to live as a butterfly. Yes, my mother was like me.” (less)
Jul 25, 2014La Tonya Jordan rated it it was amazing
Recommends it for: Everyone
Recommended to La Tonya by: Sisters With Soul Book Club
Shelves: favorites
It was a chilling story of love, sexuality, and freedom. Can you truly find freedom after a rape attack when everthing in your culture puts your virginity above everything? Hating yourself, hating your child, and finally taking your life seems to be taking matters to the extreme for Marteve.
Sophie trying to free herself from the pain of being tested for her virginity and trying to please her husband. She was separated from her aunt to something that was suppose to be better without understanding why. Tante Atie had no life when Sophie left. She had no reason to exist. Her loneliness was completely revealed. Duty took over her life. Excellent Read. (less)
Sophie trying to free herself from the pain of being tested for her virginity and trying to please her husband. She was separated from her aunt to something that was suppose to be better without understanding why. Tante Atie had no life when Sophie left. She had no reason to exist. Her loneliness was completely revealed. Duty took over her life. Excellent Read. (less)
Women go through painful stuff in so many places around the world. This story has once again proven how women will always have to endure more, sacrifice, learn more...we always have to do more than men to be considered for anything, as anything.
I am deviating but throughout the story about these four women from Haiti, I was constantly struck by the enormity of their burden as a result of society's expectations, the violations of their bodies and minds, yet they still managed to get up every day to live a 'normal' life haunted by ghosts of their past.
The book follows Sophie a young Haitian girl who joins her mother in the USA after being raised for years by her aunt. The story takes us through her life in the America but most importantly her relationship with her mother and herself as she fights to be free.
3.5 stars (less)
I am deviating but throughout the story about these four women from Haiti, I was constantly struck by the enormity of their burden as a result of society's expectations, the violations of their bodies and minds, yet they still managed to get up every day to live a 'normal' life haunted by ghosts of their past.
The book follows Sophie a young Haitian girl who joins her mother in the USA after being raised for years by her aunt. The story takes us through her life in the America but most importantly her relationship with her mother and herself as she fights to be free.
3.5 stars (less)
May 17, 2010Rowland Pasaribu rated it liked it
The Male World's Debilitating Obsession with Female Purity
The dominant culture's problematic obsession with female purity is best witnessed by the pair of Martine and Atie. Growing up, the sisters' purity was carefully guarded by the humiliating practice of testing. Yet Martine was raped at age sixteen, while Atie, betrayed by her fiancé, never married. Neither achieved the womanhood for which she was groomed, suggesting at first that this is the source of their unhappiness. But the ultimate force of their stories reveals a troubling commonality between 'pure' and fallen women. The sisters' twin tragedies evidence the toll of a lifetime ofdoubling, of living in an environment which keeps the woman uncomfortable in her body.
The cult of female purity centers on an obsession with the woman's body, as it is elevated to the status of sacred object. It is no longer the woman's own, but instead a symbolic vessel of honor, whose utility and purpose are decided by others. In this context, the woman is alienated from her body, trapped by the weight of her woman's flesh. Martine's rape gives way to madness, nightmares, hallucinations and voices, as violence done to her body is perpetuated by her body's continual violence against her soul. The details of Martine's suicide suggest an attempt to destroy the rapist's body, which has become indistinguishable from her own. Thus, while Martine's experience represents a more dramatic version of the imprisonment that her female contemporaries feel, it is a difference only of scale. Atie's turn to alcohol represents a similar escape, an attempt to negate the physicality of her failed womanhood and the broader physical trap of being stuck in Dame Marie. The residual effects of the virginity cult are visible in Sophie's inability to have sex without doubling, and her own difficulty with her body in the novel's final sections. It is Sophie's conscious attempts to address this split, to reconcile her body and soul via therapy, narrative and love, which evince a power to move beyond the tragedy of her mother's and aunt's experience. (less)
The dominant culture's problematic obsession with female purity is best witnessed by the pair of Martine and Atie. Growing up, the sisters' purity was carefully guarded by the humiliating practice of testing. Yet Martine was raped at age sixteen, while Atie, betrayed by her fiancé, never married. Neither achieved the womanhood for which she was groomed, suggesting at first that this is the source of their unhappiness. But the ultimate force of their stories reveals a troubling commonality between 'pure' and fallen women. The sisters' twin tragedies evidence the toll of a lifetime ofdoubling, of living in an environment which keeps the woman uncomfortable in her body.
The cult of female purity centers on an obsession with the woman's body, as it is elevated to the status of sacred object. It is no longer the woman's own, but instead a symbolic vessel of honor, whose utility and purpose are decided by others. In this context, the woman is alienated from her body, trapped by the weight of her woman's flesh. Martine's rape gives way to madness, nightmares, hallucinations and voices, as violence done to her body is perpetuated by her body's continual violence against her soul. The details of Martine's suicide suggest an attempt to destroy the rapist's body, which has become indistinguishable from her own. Thus, while Martine's experience represents a more dramatic version of the imprisonment that her female contemporaries feel, it is a difference only of scale. Atie's turn to alcohol represents a similar escape, an attempt to negate the physicality of her failed womanhood and the broader physical trap of being stuck in Dame Marie. The residual effects of the virginity cult are visible in Sophie's inability to have sex without doubling, and her own difficulty with her body in the novel's final sections. It is Sophie's conscious attempts to address this split, to reconcile her body and soul via therapy, narrative and love, which evince a power to move beyond the tragedy of her mother's and aunt's experience. (less)
Dec 18, 2008Laureen rated it it was amazing
Breath,Eyes,Memory by Edwidge Danticat was recommend to me by Nicole. This book, I don't know where to beginning. As I started reading the book I thought it would turn out to be like any other books but it didn't. This book is about the relationship between a mother and a daughter who had not seen each other for a long period of time. This book relates to me in so many ways. When Manman sees her daughter for the very first time she took her as like she was a fragile glass. As for Sophie, she didn't see her mother that way, she thought she wasn't her mother, due to her abandoning. However, after many years of getting to know each other they shared one body. They had about the same feelings, nightmares and childhood. But when Sophie's mother dies she realizes that everything her mother ever did was just for her. Now Sophie has to raise up her child in a way she doesn't have to feel the pain that Sophie and her mother had gone through.
I recommend this book to anyone because it really shows a relationship of a daughter and a mother. Sometimes we have to accept each other even for the worse. (less)
I recommend this book to anyone because it really shows a relationship of a daughter and a mother. Sometimes we have to accept each other even for the worse. (less)
No comments:
Post a Comment