Thanks to Isabelle for making me bump this book up my TBR list. I enjoyed most of this novel. It's a relatively short book that is by no means an easy read. BEM centers the story of Sophie, a young Haitian girl, who was raised by her aunt for most of her life, then summoned by her mother (whom she's never met) to join her in the US. As much as I enjoyed Danticat's delicate writing, there were parts of the novel that felt stagnant (when Sophie returns to Haiti with her daughter) or gaps in time that left me dissatisfied. Regardless, I really appreciated reading a novel that explores generational bonds between women, trauma, mental health and how the burden of purity (placed on women) can be oppressive.

This book showed many contradictions of life. We often pass along pain/shame to those we love because we don't know how to do otherwise. How family can be both balm and trial. There is the friendliness of the Haitian neighbors against the backdrop of the military. Parts were hopeful, others heartbreaking. I really enjoyed this book and want to read more by this author.

"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.

Onvan : Breath, Eyes, Memory - Nevisande : Edwidge Danticat - ISBN : 037570504X - ISBN13 : 9780375705045 - Dar 234 Safhe - Saal e Chap : 1994

“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.
tI 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.”

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.

I really wanted to enjoy this one, but unfortunately not for me. I just could not connect with any of the characters.

Breath, Eyes, Memory is an engaging story of Sophie Caco, who was abruptly summoned from her hometown of Haiti to the United States by her estranged mother. Author Edwidge Danticat introduces readers to the Caco women, who embodied strength and resiliency, but who also harbored a dark past. Set in Haiti as well as within the Haitian community in New York, this novel also addresses controversial cultural practices, and how they impact the lives of women.
This was such a great book, that I was upset with myself that I waited so long to read it. From the first page to the very last word, I was completely enthralled by the novel, and am looking forward to reading other works by Danticat.

Just superficial to me....I've now read two of Danticat's novels and I just can't tell why so many people find her work so amazing.

Much like Toni Morrison's Beloved, Edwidge Danticat's Breath, Eyes, Memory depicts the aftermath of abuse and trauma, the risk of perpetuating such violence, and the possibility for healing.

Danticat, a Haitian American writer, sets her story in Haiti and in New York in the late 20th century, but across this cultural divide Danticat still makes an explicit connection to African American life and literature. The protagonist's mother says at one point, "I feel like I could have been Southern African American. When I just came to this country, I got it into my head that I needed some religion. I used to go to this old Southern church in Harlem where all they sang was Negro spirituals" (214). And these Negro spirituals, "like prayers" (215), are equivalent to vaudou songs. The Virgin Mary and Erzulie, a Haitian folkloric figure, are connected and combined in Sophie and her family's experiences. And rape by white men (slaveowners or colonists, it matters little) figures prominently and tragically in both African American and Haitian history and literature.

Danticat writes about sexual abuse, family ties, body image, gender roles, immigration, and death. This short novel takes on huge issues and does so masterfully. The book is beautifully written and hard to put down. This would be a fascinating book to teach for its approach to such issues and for its fascinating introduction to elements of Haitian culture. It raises big questions: What counts as abuse? How do intentions figure into determining whether behavior is abusive? How does one deal with abuse? It asks the reader to consider his/her approach to family relationships, death, and sex. And, perhaps best of all, it does these things without being preachy, condescending, or difficult.

And even though it is an Oprah Book Club Selection and, as such, includes the requisite hopefulness and move toward freedom in its conclusion, that freedom is not absolute, nor is it uncomplicated. Sophie finds a sort of freedom in the final pages, as does her mother, but that freedom is accompanied by pain and an ongoing struggle and will never exist outside of the grasp of the past and outside the women (like her mother and grandmother) who "recreate the same unspeakable acts that they themselves lived thorugh" (234). Sophie knows that "there is always a place where nightmares are passed on through generations like heirlooms" (234). She says, "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" (234). She may no longer feel anger or hatred about her abusive past, but she cannot escape it. She can never be completely free of it. However, she can be transformed by it, like "that woman who could never bleed and then could never stop bleeding, the one who gave into her pain, to live as a butterfly" (234), and, when asked, "Are you free, my daughter?", she will be able to answer.

Danticat gestures toward both past and future in her conclusion, and, in doing so, illustrates the complexity of the present, which is always to varying degrees informed by the past and its trauma and moving toward the future and the recovery that it represents. As in the conclusion of Beloved, the past cannot be clung to ("This is not a story to pass on."), but neither can it be forgotten ("Beloved.").

Ese final y esa carta ❤️‍

*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.