book # 3

Dreams from my Father (Barack Obama)

This book has been on my radar for a long tme. I deliberately avoided reading it until after the election, because I was already deeply emotionally invested in the campaign, and reading the book would make the possibility of defeat that much more painful.

Altogether it’s a cool book. Tonally, there are countless moments of poignant eloquence and keen observation. There are also a few points where I felt kindof like rolling my eyes- like, there are times when the writing feels somewhat cliche, kindof like what the bland overachievers from my high school would have written. Often the joy of reading the book comes when it hits you- wow, this guy is the President. This is the most powerful man in the world, and he had these fascinatingly exotic experiences, and he also battled these very human and relatable insecurities.

The book is divided into three sections- his youth, his time in Chicago, and his visit to Kenya. I loved the Origins section, this was by far my favorite part. Each chapter covers a different segment of his youth- the origins of his grandparents and mother, his childhood in Indonesia, his youth in Hawaii (and meeting his father), his teenagerhood (great, interesting chapter), his college experiences in Occidental and Columbia. The Indonesia chapter is particularly astonishing, because it brings the absolutely exotic, strange facts of Obama’s childhood to light. Just step back thinking, damn, our President lived this. And I loved Obama’s grandfather- the charismatic young dreamer, gradually aging and compromising his ambitions, retaining his humor and his uniqueness. The most heartbreaking and vivid illustrations of black pain, through the entire book, come in those first chapters… the weeping janitor, the taunted, fleeing friend.

Chicago was a very difficult read. It reminded me of my own limited experiences in volunteer social work, tutoring kids, helping who I could but also weighed down by the tasks of mere discipline and control. The crushing apathy and poverty and street-level politics and beaurocratic ineptitude that Obama writes of, that he experienced… it makes for emotionally exhausting reading. Some of the chapters, especially when the character of Rafiq comes in, make for uniquely pointed, philosophical examinations of the dilemma and choices of American blacks. I thought of my African American History class, and how many of these chapters could make for good reading on the syllabus. The presence of Harold Washington- that unifying, larger than life figure- was inspirational and fascinating. The emotional power and also the practical limitations of that leadership. It’s impossible not to read it and think of Obama’s photo in those same dilapidated homes, the same limits to what he can do for the believers and the inner city strugglers. Ultimately it vaguely felt that, his experiences in Chicago- yes, they’re authentic, it was intense, he did good work- but it does leave the reader feeling like, the only lasting value is that it filled out his resume.

Kenya definitely made for some fascinating reading. Honestly it was hard just keeping track of his family- I need to read this section again, with a family tree drawn up. Again, this section blows my mind just to remember that this is the President of the United States- that he has close family ties on a distant and pillaged continent, that his close relatives live these incredibly different lives. My favorite parts of this section related to his grandfather, Onyango- the fascinating interactions he had with British colonialism, his fierceness, his story in general. I found it very beautiful and poignant, that the book opens with the story of his white grandparents, and closes with the oral history of his black grandparents.

As Obama himself writes, his father remains something of a spectre throughout the book… even after reading it, I’m not sure if I feel much closer to understanding the Old Man. I certainly know a lot more, but the feeling of mystery, of emotional distance, remains. He kinda reminds me of my friend Ben’s dad. Just a strict, intensely proud, emotionally hardened intellectual. It is Obama, not his father, that we understand much more thoroughly after it all.

A very good book. An incredible glimpse into the heart and mind and family of my favorite American.