Dreams from my Father by Barack Obama
I was surprised how well Barack Obama writes. I shouldn't have been really, his oratory is outstanding, and although I think he has well-defined acting ability, there feels like the authentic voice of the writer in what he says.
This book is very interesting. I am sure Obama's background is unique for a US President in recent times, and not just because of his African heritage. He had a very disrupted upbringing and education due to his mother's failed marriages, his father's absence, and a lack of ambition initially. He grew up in impoverished circumstances in Hawaii, Indonesia and then the US mainland.
Essentially, though, the book is about Obama's search to understand his identity. He lacked a "typical" black upbringing; and in spite of his Mother's whiteness and openness, he was always conscious of his coloured skin. His father was like a ghost, the stuff of legends, rarely seen, intangible.
His childhood was full of stories of the subtle (and more obvious) discrimination he faced. He became politicised while at university, but more along race lines than philosophy. However, his simple interpretations were challenged by a woman who pointed out that he still relied on a Hispanic maid to clean up his mess.
He then began to see poverty as the evil. He spent some tough years trying to organise for change in the poorest areas of Chicago, before applying to study law at Harvard.
This is a story of how a poor mixed race boy managed to achieve against the odds.
Significantly, this book was written before Obama entered state politics, let alone the Presidential race. It was cannily re-released during his run for presidency though, as people were asking "Who is this guy?" and has figured on the bestseller lists in the US and Australia ever since.
I found it a compelling read. However, I also find it a little manipulative. There is something there to please just about everyone: blacks, women, Christians, Muslims, the poor, the well educated…
In that way, it is a very political memoir, calculated to intrigue and not offend.
For example, he praises the efforts of Christians and churches, and seems envious of their faith: "I remained a reluctant sceptic, doubtful of my own motives, wary of expedient conversion, having too many quarrels with God to accept a salvation too easily won."
He referred to turning to the god within, but later admits that "faith in oneself is never enough".
His father was a Muslim, and he admires the political Islamic faith of Malcolm X and other black leaders.
There are hints of the themes that became part of his presidential run. He was moved by a sermon he heard entitled: "The Audacity of Hope"; and he yearned for the change that he can see is possible. Although these images begin in the church, he recognises wider potential:
Our trials and triumphs became at once unique and universal, black and more than black; in chronicling our journey, the stories and songs gave us a means to reclaim memories more accessible than those of ancient Egypt, memories that all people might study and cherish - and with which we could start to rebuild… I also felt for the first time how the spirit carried within it, nascent, incomplete, the possibility of moving beyond our narrow dreams.
In some ways the spiritual is impossible for him to ignore, since his name, Barack, translates as the blessings of God.
Interwoven through his story is the mystery of his father. As he finds out more about the "Old Man", some of the idealism is broken down. His father drank a lot, was too outspoken, had several wives, and was sometimes violent toward women and his own children.
His father also was very intelligent, won a scholarship to study in America, and returned to serve in the government in Kenya.
It is during Obama's journey to Kenya as an adult to meet his brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles and grandmother, and to visit the grave of his father, that he begins to have a greater sense of clarity about his identity and responsibilities, his privilege and vision.
He has some simple questions that drive him, and he is looking for political and historical and sociological answers: "What is our community and how might that community be reconciled with our freedom? How far do our obligations reach? How do we transform mere power into justice, mere sentiment into love?"
However, these questions are also spiritual ones. Their answer can be found in the Gospels, but the church is sometimes a poor communicator. How much do our lives reflect the answers to these questions: everyday and not just Sunday, everywhere and not just in church, publicly and not just privately?
