I only give 5 stars to books I look forward to rereading. This very personal drama is so rich that I am sure to find new insights the next time I read it.

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!.

I finished this book last night and let myself think on it over night before posting a review. First things first, I found this book to be brilliant.

I honestly don't know that much about Haiti as a country or a culture. I of course know about the earthquake that struck the country in 2010. It was all over the U.S. press and friends of mine had fundraisers and donations drives. I also had friends in the State department who chose to volunteer to go to Haiti to do what they could. One of my friends still won't talk about being down there in the aftermath and said that he would never forget what a luxury it is to have hot water. It's sad to see that after the initial few months of assistance by our country and others, Haiti is still stuck trying to rebuild (see
http://time.com/3662225/haiti-earthqu...).

Reading this book let me glimpse upon the inner workings of a family that had only women left to usher in the new generation. The character of Sophie will break your heart again and again throughout this book.

Told in the first person in four parts, we follow Sophie from the age of 12 until she I think based on the timeline of the story is 20 possibly 21.

When the book begins Sophie is a 12 year old girl happily living with her Aunt (Tante Atie) in Haiti. She knows that her real mother lives in New York, but sees New York and her mother as a far off place she will never see again. That all changes when her mother sends for her. Part two picks up when Sophie is 18 about to go to college, part three shows her with her newborn daughter in Haiti, and part four shows her back in the United States.

The flow of the book was perfect after the first couple of chapters. I thought that the book really started to get going after Sophie's mother sends for her. The description of Haiti, the smells, colors, and food made me feel as I was right there. I initially called this a memoir since the way that Edwidge Danticat writes it feels as if she is relaying something truly personal that may have happened to her and is using Sophie as her stand-in so to speak.

Reading about the inner workings of those that live in Haiti and worked the sugar cane crops was fascinating. Also reading about how the relationship between mothers and daughters was more important than a relationship that a woman had with any man that came after.

Some of the plot points were shocking (warning there is discussion of rape and self-harm in this book) and often saddening. Reading how Sophie felt apart and different from others in the U.S., how many Haitians used bleach to lighten their skin, frank discussions about rape, murder, and death made this whole book an engrossing read.

I think of this book as the Haitian version of the Joy Luck Club since we ultimately do focus on Sophie and the relationship that she has with her two mothers (her aunt and her real mother).

I have a favorite passage in the book which I loved, but I can't share it because it would spoil the ending to those of you that may want to read it. I loved everything about the words that were written, the poetry of them, the sense of loss and longing that I got as I read. This is definitely going to be another go to the bookstore and buy permanently book.

I did go to her author page on Amazon,(see Edwidge Danticat's Amazon Author Page) and was floored to see how many books she has written. I am definitely going to have to go and read some of her other works since I loved this book so much.

the ending brought it up a star for me ! very impactful story of a haitian family and generational trauma, for ENG265

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:

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?

A touching, crushing glimpse at the mother-daughter relationship and the matrilineal heritage every woman carries inside. Danticat is a remarkable writer.

I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed Danticat's style before I read this book. Her to-the-point prose is refreshing while still maintaining the poignant details and descriptions that give the narrative a feeling of rich narrative style. This is a quick and intense read with almost entirely female characters that addresses the relation of family, women's "Purity" (with a capital P), and sexual violence throughout the narrator's (Sophie's) life. Danticat's minimalist style highlights the problems Sophie encounters in a way that makes the repercussions of upholding women's purity above their mental and physical health vividly clear.

Novela muy delicada, a modo de auto ficción, con numerosos detalles genuinamente logrados, y basada en sus personajes, las protagonistas, todas ellas, construyendo, con pinceladas muy breves, una ventana a Haití y a la forma de vida de cada una de ellas, aunque me habría gustado un punto más de profundidad para cerrar algunas historias

Edwidge Danticat's first novel—Breath, Eyes, Memory—was published when she was 25 and that is an inspiration.

What is also an inspiration is how she chose to take on certain topics and depict characters in this single story that weren't always flattering to the community she is a part of and depicted but were true to the work and the story that she wanted to tell.

I personally was unaware of the controversy that surrounded this story, but being able to read Danticat's compassionate stance on how it all played out was a treat.

Looking forward to reading all of her work, all of her women, and all of the single stories she wants to tell. It always the mistake of the reader &/or community to take something specific and generalize it.

This was a hard book to read - four Haitian women, strong but powerless to escape their life circumstances. Grandmother, two sisters and a granddaughter, bearing separate burdens and carrying tales of tradition, abuse and neglect. They both hurt and grieve for each other. It's a beautifully written story carrying some hope in "breath, eyes and their memory."

About three generations of mothers and daughters, dealing with the trauma of sexuality and immigration. For a debut novel, it shows a lot of promise; ending is awkward and badly structured. (For Professor B; 300 pages)

Gee this book was depressing. Oh my goddess's titties, i need a happier book. Also, if something is messed up, can we not pass it down to our children so they have to do the messed up thing because it's considered normal? Really it is about the power of women despite all the horrible things that happen to them, but also how these mothers did AWFUL things to their daughters in the name of purity.

As if a penis makes you automatically dirty? Why do people have this attitude about sex? I blame St. Augustine.