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I broke a couple of promises to myself when I bought this book:
Because of the ridiculous amount of stuff we had just purged from our lives, I had made the commitment not to buy more stuff for awhile. As long as possible. (My error here was probably in not giving myself a firm "until" date.) Yeah, it was a half-assed commitment. I know.
Because of the stunning weight of the burnout I experienced at the end of my fall/winter/spring schedule, I wasn't going to read anything sad for awhile. Like maybe not ever again. Especially the kind of sadness brought on by the state of the world. Everything I read online about this book indicated that I was in for a gut-wrenching tear-fest.
But it was the book club selection for my mothers' group, and I didn't feel like I'd been participating in the group enough, and it was about someone from my father's country, and I had said "no" to myself about so many things already, and Danica fits in the bike-bucket and wanted to go for a ride....
So we rode to Chapters, and I bought it (along with two other book club books), and I read it in three days between and in place of my regular responsibilities. And now that I've finished it, I have so much to say that I don't know where to begin.
Read Little Bee. Even if your father is not from Nigeria. Even if you have no knowledge of post-colonial Africa. Even if you are a model North-American consumer primarily concerned with what just happened on Dancing with the Stars. Read this book.
The characters are luminous.
