BOOKS: Dreams from My Father by Barak Obama

Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance by Barack Obama

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This was a surprisingly good book and one of the best memoirs I've read. The title, "Dreams from my Father" is interesting because his father is remarkably absent from the book. Yet, that absence and his idealized version of his father does seem to have a powerful influence on his life choices. I could be reaching something into it, but i had the sense of someone trying to get a sense on an elusive and distant part of his life. He doesn't discuss his maternal family much. Most of the the book seems centered on his journey to connect with father's family in Kenya. Yet, those of us who have missing or hidden parts of our heritage can relate to the desire to discover that missing part of us.

An underlying theme of anger and bitterness seems to run through the book. It isn't really an acute sense of anger but rather the crippling frustration and bitterness that being powerless can cause. Of course, his experience is about being black in a white-dominated culture. However, he describes so well the mixed feelings of anyone who has had their dignity crushed by the ignorance or mistaken opinions of someone in power.

It is hard enough to be hurt by an individual. It is so much greater when it is the power of the system bringing harm. Along with the hurt, it is agonizing to have your justifiable anger and frustration at the situation being misinterpreted and used against you. It is just another bitter reminder of the overwhelming cruelty of the system. I'm not sure what is worse, the incident itself or the bitter realization that there is nothing you can say or do to help alleviate the situation except to play along with those in power.

There seems to be a deep scarring that never goes away. The pain fades but there is always a sense of unease that remains whenever a reminder of that unjust system is encountered. How can there not be? The trust has been shattered. One can be civil and friendly but never totally relaxed. The littlest thing can trigger a remembrance of the humiliation and frustrating sense of powerlessness. And, I think, the intense depth of this is difficult to understand except for those who have experienced it.









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