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4.06 AVERAGE
4.06 AVERAGE
challenging
dark
emotional
medium-paced
8 of 10 Great book. Hard to read, emotional.
reflective
slow-paced
If there were more stars I'd give Bragg's writing those too.
It's easy to see why Rick Bragg won a Pulitzer, because this book is very well written. Bragg switches between beautiful imagery and down-home dialect with ease. His reporter's talent for observation results in a very vivid picture for the reader.
Parts of his story resonated with what my dad has told me about his childhood - a mother who held the family together, a father who drank away the grocery money, picking cotton as soon as you're big enough to do it, etc. However, my dad emerged from his childhood poverty relatively unscathed, while it seems Bragg only got an even bigger chip on his shoulder. He is very cynical about religion, love, and anything that might present an obstacle to his career. On the other hand, it's clear that the suffering he saw as a reporter affected him profoundly. He writes very poignantly about the Haitian revolution, the Susan Smith case, etc.
Bragg seems to straddle a no-man's land between the haves and the have-nots. He acts as though he is better than his background, and yet he's very insecure about himself when he's placed in an urban situation. I get the idea that while he's a very talented writer, he's probably not a very nice person.
The one aspect of the book that rang the most sincere is his love for his momma. The chapter about her trip to New York when he received the Pulitzer was the sweetest one and the only one where the reader gets a true picture of how little his mother actually knew about the world outside her tiny home in rural Alabama.
Parts of his story resonated with what my dad has told me about his childhood - a mother who held the family together, a father who drank away the grocery money, picking cotton as soon as you're big enough to do it, etc. However, my dad emerged from his childhood poverty relatively unscathed, while it seems Bragg only got an even bigger chip on his shoulder. He is very cynical about religion, love, and anything that might present an obstacle to his career. On the other hand, it's clear that the suffering he saw as a reporter affected him profoundly. He writes very poignantly about the Haitian revolution, the Susan Smith case, etc.
Bragg seems to straddle a no-man's land between the haves and the have-nots. He acts as though he is better than his background, and yet he's very insecure about himself when he's placed in an urban situation. I get the idea that while he's a very talented writer, he's probably not a very nice person.
The one aspect of the book that rang the most sincere is his love for his momma. The chapter about her trip to New York when he received the Pulitzer was the sweetest one and the only one where the reader gets a true picture of how little his mother actually knew about the world outside her tiny home in rural Alabama.
emotional
sad
slow-paced
Raw and heartfelt. A gritty look at poverty, family, and resilience—powerful despite some repetitive, slow sections.
The last two books I have read had one thing in common: a blurb on the back cover by Pat Conroy. And since I liked these books, and have always enjoyed Pat Conroy's books, I suppose that in the future when considering a book, I should first check and see if Pat has a quote on the back cover.
First I read Rick Bragg's memoir, "All Over but the Shoutin'". In the blurb, Conroy calls it one of the best books he's read, a work of art. If "art" is that which reflects to us our lives but in a way which makes sense our of the chaos, I would agree that it is a work of art.
Rick is a Pulitzer-Prize winning journalist. His writing style is beautiful, and his stories moving. In the second paragraph he claims, "This is not an important book. It is only the story of a strong woman, a tortured man and three sons..." later he states that he had "put off" telling this story for ten years, because "dreaming backwards can carry a man through some dark rooms where the walls seem lined with razor blades."
And so Bragg begins to delineate the story of his family, about a beautiful woman who loved a man damaged in the Korean conflict and went down the the self-destructive path of alcoholism. How the man abandoned his family, and the woman picked cotton to clothe and fed her three sons.
Rick Bragg is not a Depression-era child. We are used to hearing these stories from that time period. But to read about someone my younger brother's age growing up in poverty rearranges my view of the world.
Bragg calls himself lucky, just a guy in the right place at the right time. His climb up the ranks, from writing sports stories for the local paper to feature writing at the New York Times is presented without bravado, not a jot of egoism sneaking through the words.
Bragg's descriptions of life in Haiti are chilling. While on the staff of the United Methodist Committee on Relief, my husband had visited Haiti several times between 1985 and 1989. Bragg's first trip was in 1991. Bragg writes, " I had come to believe that I was good at one thing, writing about people in trouble. As it turned out, I was a rank amateur I didn't know what misery was, but I would learn." Bragg was over-whelmed by the poverty and garbage, death and despair around him. Three years latter he returned to find "not much had changed." Political upheaval and deadly repercussions still ruled the lives of the citizens. The poor were still maimed-- or killed, their bodies stolen and held for ransom.
Real Life rarely has happy endings tied up nice and neat. So it was sweet to read about how Bragg repaid his mother's sacrifice by purchasing her a home of her own. "And I am grateful I could give her this much, before more time tumbled by lost. There ain't no way to make it perfect. You do the best you can for the people left..."
Bragg's father, on his death bed, asked his sons to see him, and he tries to make amends for years of abandonment. He tells his son, "It's all over but the shoutin'."
First I read Rick Bragg's memoir, "All Over but the Shoutin'". In the blurb, Conroy calls it one of the best books he's read, a work of art. If "art" is that which reflects to us our lives but in a way which makes sense our of the chaos, I would agree that it is a work of art.
Rick is a Pulitzer-Prize winning journalist. His writing style is beautiful, and his stories moving. In the second paragraph he claims, "This is not an important book. It is only the story of a strong woman, a tortured man and three sons..." later he states that he had "put off" telling this story for ten years, because "dreaming backwards can carry a man through some dark rooms where the walls seem lined with razor blades."
And so Bragg begins to delineate the story of his family, about a beautiful woman who loved a man damaged in the Korean conflict and went down the the self-destructive path of alcoholism. How the man abandoned his family, and the woman picked cotton to clothe and fed her three sons.
Rick Bragg is not a Depression-era child. We are used to hearing these stories from that time period. But to read about someone my younger brother's age growing up in poverty rearranges my view of the world.
Bragg calls himself lucky, just a guy in the right place at the right time. His climb up the ranks, from writing sports stories for the local paper to feature writing at the New York Times is presented without bravado, not a jot of egoism sneaking through the words.
Bragg's descriptions of life in Haiti are chilling. While on the staff of the United Methodist Committee on Relief, my husband had visited Haiti several times between 1985 and 1989. Bragg's first trip was in 1991. Bragg writes, " I had come to believe that I was good at one thing, writing about people in trouble. As it turned out, I was a rank amateur I didn't know what misery was, but I would learn." Bragg was over-whelmed by the poverty and garbage, death and despair around him. Three years latter he returned to find "not much had changed." Political upheaval and deadly repercussions still ruled the lives of the citizens. The poor were still maimed-- or killed, their bodies stolen and held for ransom.
Real Life rarely has happy endings tied up nice and neat. So it was sweet to read about how Bragg repaid his mother's sacrifice by purchasing her a home of her own. "And I am grateful I could give her this much, before more time tumbled by lost. There ain't no way to make it perfect. You do the best you can for the people left..."
Bragg's father, on his death bed, asked his sons to see him, and he tries to make amends for years of abandonment. He tells his son, "It's all over but the shoutin'."
After author Rick Bragg wins the Pulitzer prize:
"Then I went looking for a phone, to call my momma. It had been more than an hour since the announcement, plenty of time to discover a miscount in votes or a mistake in the order of finish. It was safe now, I figured.
I know how silly and paranoid that sounds, especially coming from a man who gets a perverse thrill from taking chances. But it is a common condition of being poor white trash: you are always afraid that the good things in your life are temporary, that someone can take them away, because you have no power beyond your own brute strength to stop them."
That passage took my breath away. This is a difficult memoir to read because it is so very painful. But ultimately, there is redemption, however fleeting it may be.
A memoir I will be reflecting upon for a long while. Do yourself a favor and check it out!
"Then I went looking for a phone, to call my momma. It had been more than an hour since the announcement, plenty of time to discover a miscount in votes or a mistake in the order of finish. It was safe now, I figured.
I know how silly and paranoid that sounds, especially coming from a man who gets a perverse thrill from taking chances. But it is a common condition of being poor white trash: you are always afraid that the good things in your life are temporary, that someone can take them away, because you have no power beyond your own brute strength to stop them."
That passage took my breath away. This is a difficult memoir to read because it is so very painful. But ultimately, there is redemption, however fleeting it may be.
A memoir I will be reflecting upon for a long while. Do yourself a favor and check it out!
I love Bragg's honesty. He perfectly captures the distinct dialect of the area. It is the first of Bragg's books that I read & I immediately began binge reading his others.
The author tells about his life growing up poor in Alabama, his alcoholic father, and his incredible mother.