My dear friend sophie made me own perfectly curated tbr list and it is the greatest gift. To be thought of when sophie is reading floors me regularly, to know they read such complex and emotionally challenging books and think ‘Christy would like this’ means that I get to exist in so many multitudes. Non fiction has never been something I have flocked too, fiction work has flooded my teens and early twenties but I made a promise I would venture into non fiction if only it meant I could share a little more love for books with sophie.

This book shattered me plain and simple, each word I read on the page felt like striking a match, every chapter devoured the flame burning with more fervour until I felt engulfed entirely. I felt like Safiya had bared her heart and soul on the pages, with such vulnerable retelling of her memories that It was like treading on her nostalgia with each page turned, the rawness of every time portion she described was so perfect I could not read this book fast enough.

To Safiya Sinclair this book is a marvel, a testament to your life and a reminder that woman are so much more than the rage they are born from. Thankyou.

And to my sophie, for thinking of me whenever you read, I ache to be closer to you in all the smallest of ways but getting to love the same books as you feels like an honour you will never full grasp.

 

Reading "How to Say Babylon" by Safia Sinclair was an intense and emotional journey that required multiple breaks to process. The memoir is a gripping rollercoaster of emotions, making me cry, and sharing in her anger and despair. Sinclair’s story starkly illustrates the consequences of prioritizing religion over humanity.

Before diving into this book, I was unfamiliar with Rastafarianism. The extensive backstory provided, even before her birth, was enlightening. However, it became clear that her family's extreme practice of religion should not be seen as a definitive representation of Rastafarianism. I suspect there is much more to the faith than what was depicted in her father's household, encompassing both positive and negative aspects.

I rarely use the word "hate" due to its intensity, but I genuinely hated her father throughout the book. His actions were profoundly disturbing. Despite the darkness, I was relieved to see Sinclair eventually finding a support system for her brother and mother.

Safia Sinclair masterfully crafts a coherent and compelling story arc in her memoir. While I typically do not enjoy poetry, as I often struggle to understand it, her poetic prowess shines through her prose. Although some of her poetic language puzzled me, I could still grasp the overarching meanings and emotions she conveyed. 

I find it tricky to cast judgement on a memoir. How can I sit here and judge what happens when it's not just plot but someone's actual life and experience, it feels voyeuristic. At the same time the author is handing me their life on a platter, is asking me to come and see and experience. In How to Say Babylon Safiya Sinclair presents us the story of her life growing up in Jamaica under the control of a domineering abusive father who used Rastafarianism to control and terrorize the family. We're taken on this journey to her childhood, her struggles and how she persevered and became an award winning poet. She also explains what Rastafarianism is, how it got started, what are the practices and beliefs, and how that affected her.

I could not put this down, I read it in four days. The prose is beautiful and fluid, you could probably infer her background as a poet. If you don't enjoy purple prose, this might not be a good fit for you, for me it worked because I felt like I was right there in her head with her as the events happened. And boy did things happen to her, this is a book that deals with such complex and heart wrenching abuse. Verbal abuse, physical abuse, emotional abuse, spiritual abuse, at times it felt so heavy and anxiety inducing. I was at a roller coaster right before the drop, or a balloon inflating with no sign of stopping and then... Well the drop didn't happen, the balloon never popped.

That was my only real issue with the book. The pacing brught us to this dazzling height only to gently let us down. To me it felt like perhaps she could have waited to write this memoir, there were a lot of painful memories she had to face and put to paper and the more recent ones just didn't come across as robust as the past. By this I mean I felt like she's too close to the point in time where her book ends to have been able to pull it apart and analyze it, process it. There's a lot of silence at the end, like the story was cherry-picked in some spots.

I'm obviously talking about her father. In a horribly distressing scene she depicts a night where he almost killed her, a night that traumatized her youngest sister and put her at odds with her older brother. And yet the book skips any meaningful conversation about this event, jumps right into her life in the USA and then into a reconciliation with her abuser. She spent the whole book painting this boogeyman, this dangerous figure that mistreated her and then did nothing to show the painful path towards forgiveness and personal growth. I don't want to speculate, but I do wonder if she has actually processed everything that happened, if she's been to therapy. It felt like she bent the knee after a full book of standing up for her younger self.

As I said at the beginning, it's hard to judge people's personal choices from my outside point of view but after being so in her head and life the ending felt empty of the same fire.