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Ordinary Light: A Memoir
From the Pulitzer Prize-winning poet: a deeply moving memoir that explores coming-of-age and the meaning of home against a complex backdrop of race, faith, and the unbreakable bond between a mother and daughter.
Tracy K. Smith had a fairly typical upbringing in suburban California: the youngest in a family of five children raised with limitless affection and a firm belief in God by a stay-at-home mother and an engineer father. But after spending a summer in Alabama at her grandmother's home, she returns to California with a new sense of what it means for her to be black: from her mother's memories of picking cotton as a girl in her father's field for pennies a bushel, to her parents' involvement in the Civil Rights movement. These dizzying juxtapositions--between her family's past, her own comfortable present, and the promise of her future--will eventually compel her to act on her passions for love and "ecstatic possibility," and her desire to become a writer. But when her mother is diagnosed with cancer, which she says is part of God's plan, Tracy must learn a new way to love and look after someone whose beliefs she has outgrown. Written with a poet's precision and economy, this gorgeous, probing kaleidoscope of self and family offers us a universal story of belonging and becoming, and the ways we find and lose ourselves amid the places we call home.
Tracy K. Smith had a fairly typical upbringing in suburban California: the youngest in a family of five children raised with limitless affection and a firm belief in God by a stay-at-home mother and an engineer father. But after spending a summer in Alabama at her grandmother's home, she returns to California with a new sense of what it means for her to be black: from her mother's memories of picking cotton as a girl in her father's field for pennies a bushel, to her parents' involvement in the Civil Rights movement. These dizzying juxtapositions--between her family's past, her own comfortable present, and the promise of her future--will eventually compel her to act on her passions for love and "ecstatic possibility," and her desire to become a writer. But when her mother is diagnosed with cancer, which she says is part of God's plan, Tracy must learn a new way to love and look after someone whose beliefs she has outgrown. Written with a poet's precision and economy, this gorgeous, probing kaleidoscope of self and family offers us a universal story of belonging and becoming, and the ways we find and lose ourselves amid the places we call home.
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First published March 31, 2015
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About the author
Tracy K. Smith
40 books844 followersTracy K. Smith is the author of Wade in the Water; Life on Mars, winner of the Pulitzer Prize; Duende, winner of the James Laughlin Award; and The Body’s Question, winner of the Cave Canem Poetry Prize. She is also the editor of an anthology, American Journal: Fifty Poems for Our Time, and the author of a memoir, Ordinary Light, which was a finalist for the National Book Award. From 2017 to 2019, Smith served as Poet Laureate of the United States. She teaches at Princeton University.
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October 15, 2017
Tracy K. Smith is the current poet laureate of the United States. A product of a Harvard and Columbia education, Smith has won numerous accolades and awards for all three of her poetry collections. Life on Mars: Poems won the Pulitzer five years ago and it is by far the most ambitious poetry collection that I have read this year. Smith is well deserving of her position as poet laureate as her writing is exquisite. In addition to the poetry collections, Smith took on the ambitious task of penning her memoirs. As a bridge to introduce her children to her mother who passed away before they were born, in Ordinary Light: A memoir Smith exposes her readers to raw emotions as they get to know her before she became the accomplished poet that she is today.
Born in 1972 to Floyd and Kathleen Smith, young Tracy Kathleen was a good eight and a half years younger than her closest sibling and essentially an only child. Her four siblings are close in age and enjoy a special comradery yet Tracy was anything but a bonus baby, as her mother referred to seven as G-d's perfect number and fostered a fun, loving environment to her children at home. Floyd was a long time member of the United States Air Force, and his overseas assignments left Kathleen at home alone with her children for long stretches of time. Kathleen handled herself as a model Christian with silent dignity and grace and imparted these lessons to her children. All five Smith children eventually went on to be accomplished members of society in large part because of the education they received at home. Yet, Tracy as the much youngest and referred to as kitten by her parents and siblings, enjoyed a special relationship with all the members of her family as each had much wisdom to impart to her and molded her into the person she is today.
Growing up in Fairfield, California between Sacramento and San Francisco, the Smith family sought a middle class military posting for a wholesome environment in which to raise their children. As a result, there were few people of color for the Smiths to interact with and Kathleen sought out their presence and friendship, encouraging her children to do the same. Yet, the family was rooted in the mainly white First Baptist Church, and Tracy had been imparted Christian values by her parents for her entire life. It was not until she entered Harvard as a first year student that she discovered the wider world beyond a Christian upbringing as well as the politics of African American writers. It was in this environment outside of the comforts of her home that Smith began to understand her parents' upbringing and their impetus for leaving the south behind. Yet, in Fairfield, a third grade Tracy gained admittance into a select gifted program in her school district, which years later lead a high school teacher to tell her that as an African American young woman there are many doors open to her in society. Tracy set the bar high and aimed for Harvard, and her mother encouraged her to leave the comforts of home and move cross country for college.
While Ordinary Light: A memoir does not contain much of Smith's luscious poetry, I have come to respect her brilliance as a writer for branching out to another genre. Writing a memoir shares oneself with potentially hundreds of thousands of readers and Smith had the courage to do so. That this memoir focuses on her relationship with her mother and her mother's later illness and it could potentially aggravate some of her family members takes more courage. Yet, Smith desired to leave a lasting legacy for her children so that they would know of their family history. The prose is straight forward chronologically yet is powerful with emotions flowing and ebbing through the pages. I had already sensed the brilliance of Smith's writing through all of her poetry yet by reading her memoir and knowing where she has come makes me respect her as a person all the more. That her siblings are all accomplished in their own rights speaks to the strong values that her parents taught at how, demonstrating how special the family is especially at a time when the breakdown of societal values seems to be on constant display. Reading about Smith's childhood is a testament to her parents, one that Smith herself notes that she did not discover until later in life.
While Life on Mars: Poems and Duende: Poems are collections I can read multiple times and glean different meanings from, Ordinary Light: A memoir is an ambitious memoir that highlights the author Tracy K. Smith as a prominent member of society. Written as a gift to her children so that they would know their grandparents who passed before their birth, Smith imparts her parents' wisdom and values both her children and readers from all walks of life from all over the world. A gem of writer and from what I glean here a person as well, Tracy K. Smith is well deserving of her role as United States' poet laureate. Her work is displayed front and center in Ordinary Light: A memoir and was a joy to read.
4.5 stars
Born in 1972 to Floyd and Kathleen Smith, young Tracy Kathleen was a good eight and a half years younger than her closest sibling and essentially an only child. Her four siblings are close in age and enjoy a special comradery yet Tracy was anything but a bonus baby, as her mother referred to seven as G-d's perfect number and fostered a fun, loving environment to her children at home. Floyd was a long time member of the United States Air Force, and his overseas assignments left Kathleen at home alone with her children for long stretches of time. Kathleen handled herself as a model Christian with silent dignity and grace and imparted these lessons to her children. All five Smith children eventually went on to be accomplished members of society in large part because of the education they received at home. Yet, Tracy as the much youngest and referred to as kitten by her parents and siblings, enjoyed a special relationship with all the members of her family as each had much wisdom to impart to her and molded her into the person she is today.
Growing up in Fairfield, California between Sacramento and San Francisco, the Smith family sought a middle class military posting for a wholesome environment in which to raise their children. As a result, there were few people of color for the Smiths to interact with and Kathleen sought out their presence and friendship, encouraging her children to do the same. Yet, the family was rooted in the mainly white First Baptist Church, and Tracy had been imparted Christian values by her parents for her entire life. It was not until she entered Harvard as a first year student that she discovered the wider world beyond a Christian upbringing as well as the politics of African American writers. It was in this environment outside of the comforts of her home that Smith began to understand her parents' upbringing and their impetus for leaving the south behind. Yet, in Fairfield, a third grade Tracy gained admittance into a select gifted program in her school district, which years later lead a high school teacher to tell her that as an African American young woman there are many doors open to her in society. Tracy set the bar high and aimed for Harvard, and her mother encouraged her to leave the comforts of home and move cross country for college.
While Ordinary Light: A memoir does not contain much of Smith's luscious poetry, I have come to respect her brilliance as a writer for branching out to another genre. Writing a memoir shares oneself with potentially hundreds of thousands of readers and Smith had the courage to do so. That this memoir focuses on her relationship with her mother and her mother's later illness and it could potentially aggravate some of her family members takes more courage. Yet, Smith desired to leave a lasting legacy for her children so that they would know of their family history. The prose is straight forward chronologically yet is powerful with emotions flowing and ebbing through the pages. I had already sensed the brilliance of Smith's writing through all of her poetry yet by reading her memoir and knowing where she has come makes me respect her as a person all the more. That her siblings are all accomplished in their own rights speaks to the strong values that her parents taught at how, demonstrating how special the family is especially at a time when the breakdown of societal values seems to be on constant display. Reading about Smith's childhood is a testament to her parents, one that Smith herself notes that she did not discover until later in life.
While Life on Mars: Poems and Duende: Poems are collections I can read multiple times and glean different meanings from, Ordinary Light: A memoir is an ambitious memoir that highlights the author Tracy K. Smith as a prominent member of society. Written as a gift to her children so that they would know their grandparents who passed before their birth, Smith imparts her parents' wisdom and values both her children and readers from all walks of life from all over the world. A gem of writer and from what I glean here a person as well, Tracy K. Smith is well deserving of her role as United States' poet laureate. Her work is displayed front and center in Ordinary Light: A memoir and was a joy to read.
4.5 stars
July 31, 2023
Honest reflections about religion, faith, and race amidst the author contending with her mother’s cancer diagnosis. I thought that Tracy K. Smith wrote this with a relaxed, slice-of-life prose style that made her life and coming-of-age seem approachable. Unfortunately I also felt that her writing was almost too stream-of-consciousness and unfocused – I wanted more clarity and specificity about what she aimed to get across to the reader. Perhaps those who are into poetry may like this more than I did.
October 26, 2015
I read this because it was longlisted and then shortlisted for the National Book Award in 2015. The author is best known for her poetry but I'm sorry to say I am not familiar with it. I would like to read some in the future.
The first chapter, a prologue describing when her mother died, really drew me in. It was written so beautifully and captured the pain and confusion of those kinds of situations (her mother having died of cancer and suffering a very long death). I found myself wishing more of the book had read this way, had language like this, but the majority of it is written much more simply. That took it from amazing to good for me.
I found some shared experiences with Smith, which is often what I remember most from memoirs - my independent Christian Church upbringing not being very far at all from a Southern Baptist childhood. Much of the book is about the relationship between mother and daughter, and the guilt/struggle/journey of striking out on your own, with your own beliefs and identity. There will always be tension there, particularly when your parents profess worlds of unquestionable blacks and whites.
As far as the National Book Award goes, I liked this but I'm not sure it's super memorable; just a regular person who happened to get an Ivy League education and gain some popularity as a poet. It wasn't nearly as powerful or memorable as my favorite in the non-fiction category that I've read - Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates. This book held personal meaning more than I think it will connect with everyone who picks it up. It could be that others would find different pieces to connect with.
The first chapter, a prologue describing when her mother died, really drew me in. It was written so beautifully and captured the pain and confusion of those kinds of situations (her mother having died of cancer and suffering a very long death). I found myself wishing more of the book had read this way, had language like this, but the majority of it is written much more simply. That took it from amazing to good for me.
I found some shared experiences with Smith, which is often what I remember most from memoirs - my independent Christian Church upbringing not being very far at all from a Southern Baptist childhood. Much of the book is about the relationship between mother and daughter, and the guilt/struggle/journey of striking out on your own, with your own beliefs and identity. There will always be tension there, particularly when your parents profess worlds of unquestionable blacks and whites.
As far as the National Book Award goes, I liked this but I'm not sure it's super memorable; just a regular person who happened to get an Ivy League education and gain some popularity as a poet. It wasn't nearly as powerful or memorable as my favorite in the non-fiction category that I've read - Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates. This book held personal meaning more than I think it will connect with everyone who picks it up. It could be that others would find different pieces to connect with.
October 2, 2016
3.5 stars
About midway through (poetry) Pulitzer Prize-winning Tracy K. Smith's touching memoir Ordinary Light I was starting to think I'd have to decline rating the book, fearing that my meh rating would reflect badly on Ms. Smith the person, or even her book. Generally when a memoirist writes, she's got enough life experiences to fill a book. All I got from the first half was an impeccably written book about a girl's very ordinary family (read: dull, Norman-Rockwell-as-filtered-through-the-Huxtables sort of upbringing, barely bookworthy). Nothing about Ms. Smith's pious upbringing in Fairfield, California (the youngest of five well-adjusted kids from two happily married parents) was keeping my attention. No overt racial strife (unless you count her mom's attempt at making her Halloween ghost costume unfortunately resemble a Ku Klux Klan robe and pointed hood), no skeletons in the closet (except for ) or overly scandalous behavior, no embarrassing relatives in lockup (though by Ms Smith's admission, her mother's and father's southern Alabama families' vowel elisions brought her no end of consternation when visiting down there). Only the prologue (with her mother bedridden, in the throes of late stage colon cancer) gives you any hint that this memoir is anything but a sheltered black girl's depiction of her idyllic life with her devout Baptist family, staying at home reading books and writing poetry..
The book gets much better with a) her acceptance to Harvard (where she gains her independence from her straight-laced family,and finds herself ethnically and spiritually) and b) with her mother's illness (the prose that issues forth from this chapter of Ms. Smith's life is evocative of Joan Didion's grief memoirs The Year of Magical Thinking and Blue Nights with her contemplative poetics and elevates the book to something profound and loftier than the pedestrian first half.)
Ms. Smith's life may have been ordinary, but her account of it is, ultimately, anything but. This almost makes me (an avowed poetry-phobe) want to seek out her Pultizer-winning poetry collection Life On Mars, but I'd eagerly await more prose from her.
About midway through (poetry) Pulitzer Prize-winning Tracy K. Smith's touching memoir Ordinary Light I was starting to think I'd have to decline rating the book, fearing that my meh rating would reflect badly on Ms. Smith the person, or even her book. Generally when a memoirist writes, she's got enough life experiences to fill a book. All I got from the first half was an impeccably written book about a girl's very ordinary family (read: dull, Norman-Rockwell-as-filtered-through-the-Huxtables sort of upbringing, barely bookworthy). Nothing about Ms. Smith's pious upbringing in Fairfield, California (the youngest of five well-adjusted kids from two happily married parents) was keeping my attention. No overt racial strife (unless you count her mom's attempt at making her Halloween ghost costume unfortunately resemble a Ku Klux Klan robe and pointed hood), no skeletons in the closet (except for ) or overly scandalous behavior, no embarrassing relatives in lockup (though by Ms Smith's admission, her mother's and father's southern Alabama families' vowel elisions brought her no end of consternation when visiting down there). Only the prologue (with her mother bedridden, in the throes of late stage colon cancer) gives you any hint that this memoir is anything but a sheltered black girl's depiction of her idyllic life with her devout Baptist family, staying at home reading books and writing poetry..
The book gets much better with a) her acceptance to Harvard (where she gains her independence from her straight-laced family,and finds herself ethnically and spiritually) and b) with her mother's illness (the prose that issues forth from this chapter of Ms. Smith's life is evocative of Joan Didion's grief memoirs The Year of Magical Thinking and Blue Nights with her contemplative poetics and elevates the book to something profound and loftier than the pedestrian first half.)
Ms. Smith's life may have been ordinary, but her account of it is, ultimately, anything but. This almost makes me (an avowed poetry-phobe) want to seek out her Pultizer-winning poetry collection Life On Mars, but I'd eagerly await more prose from her.
February 20, 2015
I was interested in this book after reading so many of its positive (truly, gushing) reviews. So I'm somewhat surprised to say that I thought Ordinary Light was, well, just okay. There is no doubt that Smith can write. She is a wonderful storyteller, and I would argue that the more ordinary a moment, the more vividly and effectively she can describe it. Large chunks of this memoir are devoted to Smith's day-to-day observations of and interactions with her family while her mother is dying from cancer, and I thought these portions of the book were beautiful, engaging, and compelling--probably the strongest writing of the bunch.
However, it was everything else that I just wasn't that interested in. Not because it was written poorly; as I said before, the writing is excellent. No, it was the content that disappointed. Apart from the obviously intense, traumatic and deeply sad moments with or about her dying mother, there wasn't much meat to this memoir--I think because, ultimately, Smith's childhood was pretty happy and sheltered. (Dare I say, boring?) She kicks up a bit of rebellion while in college (over three-quarters of the way into the memoir) but even that felt forced and very, very tame. I finished reading the book and thought, "I'll bet Tracy Smith is a lovely person in real life; one of those people who is a very good friend. But I don't need to read her memoir."
I realize I am SO in the minority here, but, honestly, ultimately, Ordinary Light just didn't resonate with me.
However, it was everything else that I just wasn't that interested in. Not because it was written poorly; as I said before, the writing is excellent. No, it was the content that disappointed. Apart from the obviously intense, traumatic and deeply sad moments with or about her dying mother, there wasn't much meat to this memoir--I think because, ultimately, Smith's childhood was pretty happy and sheltered. (Dare I say, boring?) She kicks up a bit of rebellion while in college (over three-quarters of the way into the memoir) but even that felt forced and very, very tame. I finished reading the book and thought, "I'll bet Tracy Smith is a lovely person in real life; one of those people who is a very good friend. But I don't need to read her memoir."
I realize I am SO in the minority here, but, honestly, ultimately, Ordinary Light just didn't resonate with me.
May 26, 2015
I became familiar with Tracy K. Smith from a poem I could not forget that I read over and over again that I discovered during a subway ride in New York. None of those poems tend to stay in my brain but what I loved about the way she uses language is that it is both simple and profound without being haughty or inaccessible. So I was delighted to read Ordinary Light, to find the same delicate honesty and light, lovely language rendered to something as profound and heavy as the loss of a mother. This is a beautiful meditation on what it means to be nurtured and to nurture, as well as what it means to hold on to memories and let go of loss and heartbreak.
May 4, 2015
It truly saddens me to say I stopped reading this 50% of the way through, because Smith just seems like an unbelievably kind and sensitive person. But I was very, very, very bored by her memoir. I kept waiting for something to HAPPEN - some type of challenge or trial. In a memoir, the readers interest is held if the author went through something tough and shares what they learned with you. In the absence of something challenging happening, did they have some great insight about life? In the absence of that, was it really beautifully written? This was none of those things. The author had a fairly normal and happy childhood. No major challenges, no revelations, and no poetry ... which, considering she's a poet, is just... strange. I was sorry to give up on this but I had to just move on.
May 14, 2015
First I would like to note that I won this book via a Goodreads Giveaway! Thanks guys!
So, before I jump into the meat and potatoes of my review, I just want to say that Tracy K. Smith can write. Trust me, her books of poetry will be added to my to-read list; I've never been a huge fan of poetry, since it seems like most of it goes over my head, but I'm willing to branch out in this case.
You know, if you asked me what I would have rated this book at 50, maybe even 100 pages in, I would have probably said 2.5 stars. Not horrible, but not amazing either. Perfectly average, to be honest. Maybe it's because I didn't know about the author. I've read memoirs and autobiographies for Maya Angelou, Tina Fey, and Mindy Kaling, but I knew them - I knew what first made them famous, and to me it seemed like their autobiographies were a comfortable discussion of how they got to the point in life. But I didn't know about the author beforehand, so to me, the book was average. Some things went unresolved, others seemed to fit into a larger narrative now that we look back on it, but it's a recounting of someone's life, so what more would you expect, right?
But the more I read, the more I came to love this book. Maybe it's because the author's younger self reminds me a bit of my younger self. Maybe it's because I can understand what it's like to grow up so sure of your faith, but to also want to be "of the world," to wonder how you can reconcile your beliefs with the knowledge that comes from meeting new people and having new experiences and whether you should try to reconcile it at all. Maybe it's because I understand what it's like to be one of those "good black people," the ones that don't fit the stereotypes but still have to deal with their negative effects anyway. Or maybe it's because I know what it's like to deal with serious illness in my immediate family.
You know, the more I write in this review, the more I wonder, how could I have been so ambivalent about this book? How could something like this not resonate with me? Thinking back now, there are so many moments when the author described something and I felt like she just got it, really captured how I was feeling - but why was I so surprised? I honestly don't know why - I'm certainly not surprised anymore, just confused as to why I was surprised in the first place.
I can definitely say that this is a book that will stay with me. I'll probably read it again, maybe 4 or 5 years from now, and uncover a whole new set of insights, the kind that come with rereading a book once you're just a bit older and wiser. But, for now, I will say goodbye.
So, before I jump into the meat and potatoes of my review, I just want to say that Tracy K. Smith can write. Trust me, her books of poetry will be added to my to-read list; I've never been a huge fan of poetry, since it seems like most of it goes over my head, but I'm willing to branch out in this case.
You know, if you asked me what I would have rated this book at 50, maybe even 100 pages in, I would have probably said 2.5 stars. Not horrible, but not amazing either. Perfectly average, to be honest. Maybe it's because I didn't know about the author. I've read memoirs and autobiographies for Maya Angelou, Tina Fey, and Mindy Kaling, but I knew them - I knew what first made them famous, and to me it seemed like their autobiographies were a comfortable discussion of how they got to the point in life. But I didn't know about the author beforehand, so to me, the book was average. Some things went unresolved, others seemed to fit into a larger narrative now that we look back on it, but it's a recounting of someone's life, so what more would you expect, right?
But the more I read, the more I came to love this book. Maybe it's because the author's younger self reminds me a bit of my younger self. Maybe it's because I can understand what it's like to grow up so sure of your faith, but to also want to be "of the world," to wonder how you can reconcile your beliefs with the knowledge that comes from meeting new people and having new experiences and whether you should try to reconcile it at all. Maybe it's because I understand what it's like to be one of those "good black people," the ones that don't fit the stereotypes but still have to deal with their negative effects anyway. Or maybe it's because I know what it's like to deal with serious illness in my immediate family.
You know, the more I write in this review, the more I wonder, how could I have been so ambivalent about this book? How could something like this not resonate with me? Thinking back now, there are so many moments when the author described something and I felt like she just got it, really captured how I was feeling - but why was I so surprised? I honestly don't know why - I'm certainly not surprised anymore, just confused as to why I was surprised in the first place.
I can definitely say that this is a book that will stay with me. I'll probably read it again, maybe 4 or 5 years from now, and uncover a whole new set of insights, the kind that come with rereading a book once you're just a bit older and wiser. But, for now, I will say goodbye.
August 22, 2021
Beautiful writing, but I wasn't emotionally invested.
August 28, 2017
DNF at page 192. I put this down months ago and have no desire to pick it back up. I had very high hopes for this memoir. I expected to find something quite different than what this is. The writing wasn't nearly as beautiful as Smith's poetry (which is why I picked this up in the first place). I also was hoping race to be a main point of discussion in the memoir, but religion was discussed far more often, which I'm not interested in. I'll probably read more of Smith's poetry in the future, but I won't be continuing on with this memoir.
August 21, 2015
Despite being a memoir, Smith's poetry is present in every sentence. Lines so beautiful I sighed after reading them, ideas so true I teared up, and a life so beautifully examined I was speechless.
June 4, 2016
On the rare occasions that I read memoir, it is usually the memoir of a writer. Not only are they better written, but I like learning when and how they felt the calling to write, what books shaped their world view, etc. I had read Smith’s Pulitzer-Prize winning poetry book, Life on Mars, so counted on a good read. Except for a brief prologue about her present life, we follow her through her early years, growing up in an African-American, Southern Baptist home in California, where most of her friends were white (by demographics). Then we follow her to Harvard and see how independence and her classes there lead her toward poetry.
The book begins with her mother’s death at age 59, when Smith had just finished college. After going back to catch up on her childhood, we witness Mom’s death a second time, which is pretty much how grief happens – relived over and over again. My mother died at 59, too, so I read through tears, but found her descriptions some of the best in the book. Here she describes the moment of death:
“Then we heard a sound that seemed to carve a tunnel between
our world and some other. It was an otherworldly breath, a vivid
presence that blew past us without stopping, leaving us, the living,
clamped in place by the silence that followed. I come back to the
sound and the presence of that breath again and again, thinking
how miraculous it was that she had ridden off on that last
exhalation, her life instantly whisked away, carried over into a
place none of us will ever understand until perhaps we are there
ourselves.”
The book begins with her mother’s death at age 59, when Smith had just finished college. After going back to catch up on her childhood, we witness Mom’s death a second time, which is pretty much how grief happens – relived over and over again. My mother died at 59, too, so I read through tears, but found her descriptions some of the best in the book. Here she describes the moment of death:
“Then we heard a sound that seemed to carve a tunnel between
our world and some other. It was an otherworldly breath, a vivid
presence that blew past us without stopping, leaving us, the living,
clamped in place by the silence that followed. I come back to the
sound and the presence of that breath again and again, thinking
how miraculous it was that she had ridden off on that last
exhalation, her life instantly whisked away, carried over into a
place none of us will ever understand until perhaps we are there
ourselves.”
July 2, 2015
Pulitzer prize-winning poet Smith delivers a thoughtful, meditative memoir of her childhood, up through her acceptance to graduate school at Columbia.
Style-wise, this book is great for people who consider themselves introverts, because it mimics the patterns they often follow. A tiny thing happens, and Smith reflects on it at length. Most things she notices stay with her for a long time, and she connects them to other things that happen, then ruminates on THAT. It's the introspective person's dream book.
Thematically, Smith is mainly concerned with two subjects: her mother's life and death, and the nature of God. Both topics demonstrate the same deliberate thought process, filled with emotion, but devoid of hyperbole. Ultimately she concludes that both mom and the divine are mysteries, but in the process of seeking the true nature of both, she has learned much about life in this world, and her roles in it.
The word "luminous" gets thrown around in book reviews like hash browns at the breakfast buffet, but it's the appropriate word here. I am now dying to get my hands on Smith's poetry, so I can read and reflect on it. A quietly beautiful book for those who appreciate the quiet and beautiful.
Style-wise, this book is great for people who consider themselves introverts, because it mimics the patterns they often follow. A tiny thing happens, and Smith reflects on it at length. Most things she notices stay with her for a long time, and she connects them to other things that happen, then ruminates on THAT. It's the introspective person's dream book.
Thematically, Smith is mainly concerned with two subjects: her mother's life and death, and the nature of God. Both topics demonstrate the same deliberate thought process, filled with emotion, but devoid of hyperbole. Ultimately she concludes that both mom and the divine are mysteries, but in the process of seeking the true nature of both, she has learned much about life in this world, and her roles in it.
The word "luminous" gets thrown around in book reviews like hash browns at the breakfast buffet, but it's the appropriate word here. I am now dying to get my hands on Smith's poetry, so I can read and reflect on it. A quietly beautiful book for those who appreciate the quiet and beautiful.
April 11, 2015
Awesome, this book is awesome. It's amazing how Smith is able to bring so much of her childhood and adolescence back to life; she really evokes what it's like to be her at that age. It reminded me of myself sometimes, the insecurities I used to have. The thing I liked about her writing was that she very rarely, or perhaps never, shamed herself: she always accepted her feelings as they were and stood by herself.
I also really liked her straightforward musings on the role of faith/God, really resonated with me: it was nice to read an honest contemplation of those subjects, instead of a blind or devotional exhortation towards faith. She admitted her imperfections, she was able to describe how she related to her faith at any given moment, we saw her faith evolve through the stages of her life. She evokes her own character development really well.
highly recommended.
I also really liked her straightforward musings on the role of faith/God, really resonated with me: it was nice to read an honest contemplation of those subjects, instead of a blind or devotional exhortation towards faith. She admitted her imperfections, she was able to describe how she related to her faith at any given moment, we saw her faith evolve through the stages of her life. She evokes her own character development really well.
highly recommended.
July 7, 2015
If I cannot go to the mountain, I will bring the mountain to me.
July 1, 2015
I rarely stop reading a book but I gave up on this memoir 1/3rd of the way through. I didn't find the memoir interesting. The first third was about Smith's childhood filled with childhood detail, relatives, and many references to religion. I understand Christianity is an important part of her parents life, but as a reader there was no value add for me. I understand Halloween could be a challenging event for her to participate in due to ghost costumes being similar to KKK, witchcraft, and superstition versus her parents beliefs about the teachings of the bible, but where the book falls short is the endless detail we didn't need to read about the candy she got and how it was divided between the children at home. I didn't feel drawn into the memoir nor feel compelled to find out where it was going.
I was very, very bored because nothing happened. There were no insights. I truly wondered why it was written and why it needed to be 350 pages.
I was very, very bored because nothing happened. There were no insights. I truly wondered why it was written and why it needed to be 350 pages.
September 18, 2015
I was lucky enough to win a free copy of Ms. Smith's memoir through Goodreads First Reads program, and I'm very glad that I did. I became a fan of Smith's after reading her Pulitzer Prize winning poetry collection Life on Mars last year. That collection originally attracted me because of its Bowie-infused words, but soon proved that it was a powerful entity within itself, and stood on its own, as a testament to, and because of, Smith's incredible use and understanding of language, and the type of language that makes emotion tangible and understandable. The same can be said for this work, though it is most decidedly not poetry.
Not only did this memoir interest me because I am a fan of Smith and her work, but because her life is so different to mine. I am always intrigued by books that open me up to new ideas or experiences of life, and Smith's life is far cry from my own. A large portion of the novel is about Smith growing up. A young, African-American woman, growing up in a devout religious household, in suburban California, in the 80s. All things I've never known, and will never know. But because of Smith's skill as a writer, I can feel a level of sympathy and camaraderie to situations I've never been in.
Despite there being little overt action in the book, no major dramatic twists or turns that Smith doesn't warn us about up front, it still glides along at an extraordinary pace at her command. It certainly has a poetic quality in that each sentence has a rhythm, it is comfortable to read and understand. It is also poetic in its use. Every sentence is important. Not a line is wasted. And this is what makes a book (largely) about the day-to-day meanderings of a young girl compulsively readable. Smith is a hyperliterate, and as on display in the book, a vicious reader, and as a writer, she is empathetic to the reader, creating a piece as much for herself as a writer, as for her audience as readers.
I really, really enjoyed it. It was a lovely, sometimes painful, look at a life that I'll never know through the words -- and truly the eyes -- of a wonderfully skillful author. I won't ever fully know or understand what it is to be Tracy K. Smith, in her multitude permutations, whether its in the context of a girl questioning faith in a religious house, or the intuit connection between a mother and daughter. I'll never be able to empathize with her, but due in large part to her talent, I, and I believe many other readers, will be able to sympathize. I find it hard that anyone who reads this wouldn't be able to sympathize with her. She is honest, true and revealing throughout the course of the book, even when it would be easier, emotionally or for her own character, not to be. To gloss over something or tell a lie. But Smith isn't afraid of the truth because she can create an infinite number of emotional responses with her words alone. A true gift to the modern literary world, I am always looking forward to what she does next. Another book of poetry, another volume of memoir, a narrative work, a short story collection, whatever it is, I am in the business of consuming the words and world of Tracy K. Smith.
Not only did this memoir interest me because I am a fan of Smith and her work, but because her life is so different to mine. I am always intrigued by books that open me up to new ideas or experiences of life, and Smith's life is far cry from my own. A large portion of the novel is about Smith growing up. A young, African-American woman, growing up in a devout religious household, in suburban California, in the 80s. All things I've never known, and will never know. But because of Smith's skill as a writer, I can feel a level of sympathy and camaraderie to situations I've never been in.
Despite there being little overt action in the book, no major dramatic twists or turns that Smith doesn't warn us about up front, it still glides along at an extraordinary pace at her command. It certainly has a poetic quality in that each sentence has a rhythm, it is comfortable to read and understand. It is also poetic in its use. Every sentence is important. Not a line is wasted. And this is what makes a book (largely) about the day-to-day meanderings of a young girl compulsively readable. Smith is a hyperliterate, and as on display in the book, a vicious reader, and as a writer, she is empathetic to the reader, creating a piece as much for herself as a writer, as for her audience as readers.
I really, really enjoyed it. It was a lovely, sometimes painful, look at a life that I'll never know through the words -- and truly the eyes -- of a wonderfully skillful author. I won't ever fully know or understand what it is to be Tracy K. Smith, in her multitude permutations, whether its in the context of a girl questioning faith in a religious house, or the intuit connection between a mother and daughter. I'll never be able to empathize with her, but due in large part to her talent, I, and I believe many other readers, will be able to sympathize. I find it hard that anyone who reads this wouldn't be able to sympathize with her. She is honest, true and revealing throughout the course of the book, even when it would be easier, emotionally or for her own character, not to be. To gloss over something or tell a lie. But Smith isn't afraid of the truth because she can create an infinite number of emotional responses with her words alone. A true gift to the modern literary world, I am always looking forward to what she does next. Another book of poetry, another volume of memoir, a narrative work, a short story collection, whatever it is, I am in the business of consuming the words and world of Tracy K. Smith.
June 27, 2015
I am coming to believe that poets are better memoir writers than straight memoir writers. You definitely have to digest this book as the prose is unpredictable, effortless and fluid. Smith takes seemingly mundane details and creates such vivid imagery evoking the experience for the reader of a complex emotional landscape that is not easily comprehended or embraced for the writer and for the reader as she writes of these very beautiful, poignant, and sometimes sorrowful events. I took this book out of the library after picking it up and putting it down about three times prior to its lending. I skimmed the cover summary and was unimpressed by the subject matter at first. That's what makes this memoir so engaging and remarkable is that she is telling a unique, at times provocative, and personal story that could be any one of ours. Smith threads the narrative of grief, class, culture, and race throughout her story so seamlessly that you forget that what you are meant to take away is one woman's attempt to discover and re-discover the very extraordinary life of her mother who on the surface looked to have lived an "ordinary" life. One of the best books I've read so far this year.
May 27, 2015
I picked this up as I had a chance to meet the author and is always true with me, I liked it more after listening to her discuss it. I do not read a lot of memoir and I didn't want to read this story of her and her mother and her mother's death, but I am so glad I did. We would not seem to have much in common, but I lost my mother soon after I graduated from college as Tracy did and her descriptions of her feelings of loss and grief mirrored my own. She is a beautiful and eloquent writer and this memoir of her family and her relationship with her mother resonated with me. I was very glad to meet this author and I was able to thank her for sharing her personal story which seemed to be a part of my story too.
October 28, 2015
A deceptively quiet book, Ordinary Light becomes more potent the longer you sit with it. Smith is a lyrical, descriptive writer, and her exploration of her relationship with her mother is the best part of this memoir. From the sad events of the opening prologue, to her musings about what her mother might have been like while she was away from her children, there is a lot to dive into here. Faith played a large role in Smith’s upbringing and it’s interesting to read about how she moved away from it and then slowly back to certain elements, looking for a kind of nostalgic peace. That’s something that many people will relate to, I think.
October 30, 2017
No fireworks, but a very enjoyable memoir from our poet laureate about growing up the youngest of seven children in a loving family, coming into her adult identity as her mother, a woman of great faith and rectitude, is dying of cancer.
June 3, 2024
I mostly loved it but I had a hard time with a section about an inappropriate student teacher relationship and had to set it aside for a while. I am glad I persevered. The parts about her relationship with her mother were stunning. I listened to the audiobook read by the author. Highly recommend.
September 13, 2023
This book was a really emotional read for me, and it made me realize that there are things I’ve thought about experiencing but never really took the time to think about how I would feel. Although it did seem to drag on in the middle, I was forced to think about how life isn’t really permanent, and how important it is to hold on to the people that you love because you never know when you might lose them.
October 14, 2015
She is made out in body armor and knives,
standing on the field of battle,
she is ten-feet tall and twenty-yards away,
is the physical representation of the memoir,
a faded, gray figure, which is all it can be,
forced remembrances, sideways truth and endlessly,
almost breathtakingly boring
and there it is in reality's time,
the two foes engage in a pantomime of death dealing...
our heroine victorious.
Long Live Tracy K. Smith,
Slayer of Memoirs,
she has killed them completely,
now and all future days.
Let us build up
a thousand statues to honor her.
Chris Roberts
standing on the field of battle,
she is ten-feet tall and twenty-yards away,
is the physical representation of the memoir,
a faded, gray figure, which is all it can be,
forced remembrances, sideways truth and endlessly,
almost breathtakingly boring
and there it is in reality's time,
the two foes engage in a pantomime of death dealing...
our heroine victorious.
Long Live Tracy K. Smith,
Slayer of Memoirs,
she has killed them completely,
now and all future days.
Let us build up
a thousand statues to honor her.
Chris Roberts
March 8, 2016
A well written memoir by a young Black woman whose central glue is her relationship with her mother until he mother's untimely passing. This book transcends race and gender and settles on interpersonal relationships with family members and acquaintances that have made Ms. Smith the woman she is today. It is not melodramatic or depressing but more of the celebrations and struggles that many families have to go through. The book is well worth reading and worthy of the acclaim it has received.
July 24, 2020
This has been on my to-read list for awhile, but how amazing to finally read it during the #BlackLivesMatter protests and while my own mother is nearing the end of her life.
Each page of Smith's beautiful prose is to be savored.
I was stunned at how our lives mirrored each other's in many ways. She's the youngest by far in her family. Her father served in the Air Force. She grew up in church surrounded by people of faith.
But she is Black and I am not and the differences are as moving and challenging as our similarities.
Tracy Smith speaks my language only far more eloquently.
Each page of Smith's beautiful prose is to be savored.
I was stunned at how our lives mirrored each other's in many ways. She's the youngest by far in her family. Her father served in the Air Force. She grew up in church surrounded by people of faith.
But she is Black and I am not and the differences are as moving and challenging as our similarities.
Tracy Smith speaks my language only far more eloquently.
May 9, 2021
Ordinary Light is the story of an ordinary life, with ordinary ups and downs, and although the author's mother sadly died young of cancer, it is still a simple, ordinary tale.
May 25, 2020
I read this during April of 2020, when we were all "safe at home".
My daughter and I were planning to go to the University of Missouri book festival, "UNBOUND". Tracy K Smith, former US poet laureate, was going to be the key note speaker. The festival was cancelled. So my sister, and two of my kids read Ordinary Light and had a remote book group together.
This is a memoir.
Tracy K. Smith's family fits into many categories: middle class-upper middle class, military, Baptist, Californian and black.
The book begins and ends with Tracy's mother death from cancer at the same time that Tracy was graduating from Harvard.
This book is very introspective: Tracy's relationship to her mother and her mother's religion, her mother's relationship to her older sister, Traci's relationship to her older cousin, to other black kids, to her high school Language Arts Teacher, her college boyfriend, her college roommate...
Tracy's voice is one of a happy, well adjusted, two parent, high achieving large (5 kids. Both sons graduated from Stanford; Tracy from Harvard; her dad worked on the Hubble telescope after he left the military.) black family. She and the reader are both trying to figure out where she fits in.
As my son said, it is a book you read largely for the texture. Open the book to any page, and the words are thoughtful and beautiful: "I'd known for a long time that there was also something painful at the very root of Home. To me, that pain was best summed up by the bevy of things the South had done to people of my parents' generation: the civil rights activists hosed down by police, the young men and women sitting stone-faced at all white lunch counters or behind jailhouse bars. Whenever my parents made reference what things were when they were my age, even benign things, the images that rose up in my mind, just out of framework were the fire hoses and the lunch counters. My heart clenched in my chest to think about it, and my way of dealing with that sadness and anger and shame was to steer shy of talking about it altogether, to close my eyes to things that glared too bright to look at head-on."
My daughter and I were planning to go to the University of Missouri book festival, "UNBOUND". Tracy K Smith, former US poet laureate, was going to be the key note speaker. The festival was cancelled. So my sister, and two of my kids read Ordinary Light and had a remote book group together.
This is a memoir.
Tracy K. Smith's family fits into many categories: middle class-upper middle class, military, Baptist, Californian and black.
The book begins and ends with Tracy's mother death from cancer at the same time that Tracy was graduating from Harvard.
This book is very introspective: Tracy's relationship to her mother and her mother's religion, her mother's relationship to her older sister, Traci's relationship to her older cousin, to other black kids, to her high school Language Arts Teacher, her college boyfriend, her college roommate...
Tracy's voice is one of a happy, well adjusted, two parent, high achieving large (5 kids. Both sons graduated from Stanford; Tracy from Harvard; her dad worked on the Hubble telescope after he left the military.) black family. She and the reader are both trying to figure out where she fits in.
As my son said, it is a book you read largely for the texture. Open the book to any page, and the words are thoughtful and beautiful: "I'd known for a long time that there was also something painful at the very root of Home. To me, that pain was best summed up by the bevy of things the South had done to people of my parents' generation: the civil rights activists hosed down by police, the young men and women sitting stone-faced at all white lunch counters or behind jailhouse bars. Whenever my parents made reference what things were when they were my age, even benign things, the images that rose up in my mind, just out of framework were the fire hoses and the lunch counters. My heart clenched in my chest to think about it, and my way of dealing with that sadness and anger and shame was to steer shy of talking about it altogether, to close my eyes to things that glared too bright to look at head-on."
April 29, 2024
I gave this book 5 stars because I had the sense that Smith was speaking true to life, with great self reflection. I found the prologue and epilogue deeply moving in regard to how an adult child faces the death of their mother. I read those pieces before I read the body of the memoir, and then, as I moved through Smith's reflections on her childhood and through college, I saw the portrait develop of the relationship with her mother, including the challenges as her mom died. And I saw the portraits of her relationships with all of her family, and, most significantly her understanding of herself.
She writes with a keen self-awareness that I appreciate. Sometimes her story connected with parts of my life, and many times it did not (I am a white Midwest rural male, she a black East and West Coast female); but descriptions of her process of development - the inward mental and emotional processes - nearly always connected.
True to form, this memoir is not prescriptive; yet its descriptive quality helped me reflect more meaningfully on my own life, situated in my own family, place, and time.
Here is one morsel from late in Smith's memoir: "Death was like an indelible error no one could correct. It did not relinquish its hold on the present tense."
I got this book by mistake. I went to the library and hastily looked up memoir by Tracy Smith, thinking I would be getting her 2023 work. I reserved the first book that looked right, and when I went to get it from the library this is what I had. I do plan to read the 2023 book and I am particularly glad that I have now read this previous memoir.
She writes with a keen self-awareness that I appreciate. Sometimes her story connected with parts of my life, and many times it did not (I am a white Midwest rural male, she a black East and West Coast female); but descriptions of her process of development - the inward mental and emotional processes - nearly always connected.
True to form, this memoir is not prescriptive; yet its descriptive quality helped me reflect more meaningfully on my own life, situated in my own family, place, and time.
Here is one morsel from late in Smith's memoir: "Death was like an indelible error no one could correct. It did not relinquish its hold on the present tense."
I got this book by mistake. I went to the library and hastily looked up memoir by Tracy Smith, thinking I would be getting her 2023 work. I reserved the first book that looked right, and when I went to get it from the library this is what I had. I do plan to read the 2023 book and I am particularly glad that I have now read this previous memoir.
July 20, 2017
In this extraordinary memoir, Tracy K. Smith takes us not only through her own life, but into the complex relationship she shared with her mother. It was the death of her mother from cancer that motivated Tracy to take on this project, and the sorrow and searching in the wake of this loss are tangible throughout the work.
Raised in California, Tracy was instilled with a sense of religious sensibility. She was the doting daughter, getting good grades, rarely getting in trouble. She wholeheartedly endorses the conservative beliefs and lifestyle that her parents prescribe, even functioning as a willing pawn in some situations. For example, her mother recruits her to talk to her much-older brother about how he is disappointing God and their family by living with his girlfriend before marriage. It wasn't until she was on the East Coast for college that she began to test the boundaries of where her upbringing bumped up against the outline of who she could be as an individual. She had relationships that men, took classes in Afro Studies and feminism, and involved herself in groups and organizations far different from the church groups of her youth.
As she grows into a strong, independent woman in her own self, she is more and more in conflict with the desires and beliefs of her parents for her. As her mother grows ill, during the later part of Tracy's college career, Tracy struggles to reconcile herself and her choices with her mother's life. The more she grows into adulthood, the more she realizes she doesn't really know her mother at all, and her death brings all this into sharp focus.
Tracy weaves her experience with what she learns about her mother, from family, friends, and her own observations and intuitions of situations. She brings an exquisite layer of empathy to this narrative, seeing the world not only from her point of view but imagining her mother's perspective. The language is exquisite, and it's difficult not to get swept up in the poetic, dreamlike quality of this beautiful memoir.
Raised in California, Tracy was instilled with a sense of religious sensibility. She was the doting daughter, getting good grades, rarely getting in trouble. She wholeheartedly endorses the conservative beliefs and lifestyle that her parents prescribe, even functioning as a willing pawn in some situations. For example, her mother recruits her to talk to her much-older brother about how he is disappointing God and their family by living with his girlfriend before marriage. It wasn't until she was on the East Coast for college that she began to test the boundaries of where her upbringing bumped up against the outline of who she could be as an individual. She had relationships that men, took classes in Afro Studies and feminism, and involved herself in groups and organizations far different from the church groups of her youth.
As she grows into a strong, independent woman in her own self, she is more and more in conflict with the desires and beliefs of her parents for her. As her mother grows ill, during the later part of Tracy's college career, Tracy struggles to reconcile herself and her choices with her mother's life. The more she grows into adulthood, the more she realizes she doesn't really know her mother at all, and her death brings all this into sharp focus.
Tracy weaves her experience with what she learns about her mother, from family, friends, and her own observations and intuitions of situations. She brings an exquisite layer of empathy to this narrative, seeing the world not only from her point of view but imagining her mother's perspective. The language is exquisite, and it's difficult not to get swept up in the poetic, dreamlike quality of this beautiful memoir.
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