Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates

★★★★

This book is written as a letter to the author's 15-year-old son, though I didn't find it particularly accessible. The subject matter is heavy, the writing itself at times poetic.

My rating is mostly a reflection of my belief that the content should be widely read, especially by people who might not spend a lot of time thinking about race. In this book, we have a first-person account of what it's like to grow up with no choice but to think about race, to think about race in every facet of life, and what that race means not only to your sense of identity, but how it relates to your very survival. As Coates explains, at the most basic level, a black person's greatest concern is his struggle to control what happens to his own body.

Part think piece, part memoir, the author puts on display the raw reality of growing up black in West Baltimore. There's a dichotomy between the streets and school, yet both institutions failed the author as equally unrealistic paths to achieving the American "Dream".

The author writes about "being 'politically conscious' - as much a series of actions as a state of being, a constant questioning, questioning as ritual, questioning as exploration rather than the search for certainty." (p. 34) Coates's lack of religious faith is notable. He faced all the tough questions without being able to fall back on a "greater good" or "God's plan", forcing him to continually grapple with a search for answers and explanations. Though he struggled at first with finding a common narrative, a single truth, he learned at Howard University - his "Mecca" - to embrace the dialogue and debate as being worthwhile in themselves.

Early on, Coates states an important premise: "America believes itself exceptional... I propose to take our countrymen's claims of American exceptionalism seriously, which is to say I propose subjecting our country to an exceptional moral standard." (p. 8) Clearly, an "exceptional moral standard" would preclude pervasive and institutional racism, and at the end of the book, the author poignantly urges his son to "struggle for the memory of your ancestors. Struggle for wisdom. Struggle for the warmth of The Mecca." (p. 151) I get wanting to pass the torch, but I did wonder if maybe it's a heavy burden to place on a 15-year-old.

I found the memoir portions of the book most engaging, for example, the complete revelation he had when he traveled internationally for the first time, and his incredibly profound coming-to-terms in dealing with a friend's death at the hands of the police.