Toi Derricotte Books

I missed reading the original edition of Toi Derricotte's Natural Birth Poems (1983), which is out of print. However, Natural Birth-the reissuance of the poems, along with a powerful introduction-adds new insights to the conversation about the birthing process. Having recently read Derricotte's soul-baring The Black Notebooks (1997), I expected this work to be another frank, poignant self-discovery that enlightens the reader and this volume of prose poems delivers. It allows one to explore possibilities while examining hitherto unchallenged assumptions and beliefs about pregnancy and childbirth. The poem "delivery" is a conflation of the fear, pain, clinical dis/order and wonder of the passages in the delivery room.

We mothers know Derricotte speaks the truth unflinchingly and proudly to "testify to the power of nature and love."

I first read this book of poetry when I was pregnant, and was moved to tears. Derricotte is so raw with her language; the experience is all there for you.

After I had my baby--after 36 long, painful hours--I reread the book and cried and cried. It was every emotion and feeling I'd had, only expressed more eloquently than I could have.

The poems in this collection are outstanding. They tackle subjects that many readers, we white ones especially, too often avoid because they are so painful. Derricotte's poetry handles racism in a complex and truthful way, without softening any blows. For me, the poems are less "about racism" than they evoke and inhabit the context of racism in which all people of color must move. This is a powerful and important work by a truly first rate poet.

Bravo to Toi Derricotte on this collection of poems. No other poet I can think of writes so beautifully and movingly on the subject of race. There's a lot of pain beneath the surface of racial relations, but Toi Derricote's words make something of beauty from that pain. Highly recommended.

This is my first book by this author and thus have nothing else to compare this memoir to. My first impression was her honesty, with herself and with others: her alcoholic mother, her own drinking (a bottle of wine a night), her relationship failures both with men and women, and her regrets in life. Had she been an American publishing this book it would have been a sensation, but alas, because she is Irish and Catholic and an unknown in the US, the book made little waves here.

She mentions her first book "Are You Somebody" a lot in this memoir and this seems to be a sequel. It's the book that shot her to fame, which brought her interviews in the more progressive US Northeast where many Irish live. She ponders her success almost to the point of insanity, rather than enjoying her success for her efforts. It's that typical Catholic guilt feeling.

Her honesty with her seemingly gay relationship had me at first stumped. I almost stopped reading after her first mention of her ex-partner leaving her, but I overcame that after I continued her chapter. Then I realized that subject is just too tabu in the US. So I congratulate her for bringing that subject out in the open.

Her candor of her first book caused some heartache to others in her life, others who may have hurt her in the past. Was she trying to get even with them by publishing the events as they happened according to her? She's honest and covers the other person's point of view, which was a courageous act. Most people who write memoirs mention the people who hurt them, but few take the time to ask themselves why they hurt them, or the reasons for the behavior. Different people, different perspectives, says Nuala. Who's right?

It's definitely not an easy read or one that one laughs out loud reading. It's one more of the "Damn, that hurt!" reaction that, after more thought, allows the reader to gain greater respect for the author, and allows the readers to look deeper into themselves.

first off i want to say i shouldn't complain too much as i bought an autographed hard copy of this book for just $1.00 . Thank God for small favors . to begin with i really was enjoying this book in the beginning and too quick to imagine myself buying her first memoir .

what bothered me the most was her having an illicit affair with a man who even she described as not being educated, nor really a " looker " . yet time and again she would drive miles, hours, and pay for their trysts .
he'd bring hard candy ....lol.
like, didn't she wonder why she never heard nor saw this gink on holidays such as xmas . not even a card ? I think she knew in her deepest being. she's just the type of woman for some reason needs to be exploited as that's all she feels she truly deserves . it was sickening .

she's lucky to have found someone who cares . but, i didn't give a damn about her during this entire fiasco of a book . she saw the inside of more motels then " the gideon bible " .

my advice to her ...go back to column writing . she ought be ashamed to have her siblings read this as well as everybody else .

i don't believe in bookburning ..but, i'm tempted .

I could really relate to her life's reflections in relation to her own personal experiences as well as her perspective on universal family situations. Nuala's frank proclamation revealing her loneliness was quite powerful. The fact that she read this book on CD herself with wit and prose makes me want others to listen to her gift of gab.

Yes, ma'am, this `analyze my life and then tell-all' book seems like the sort of fare on which Oprah could chew for several shows. It was ready-made for her book club and would have instantly been embraced by her angst-loving fan base, but somehow it stayed outside that sort of recognition. But that's not a cheap shot, I mean it, this is a book for those who like the sort of reading material common in Oprah's book club. So Oprah readers, go get this!

I don't know if I was supposed to, exactly, but I found this book gloomy, and mostly only liked the rare parts where Irish Times writer Nuala O'Faolain wasn't speaking so personally. Her reports on the state of Northern Ireland, her experiences in America (page 195, " 'America' was always the word for promise." Boy have I ever heard that before...) the compare and contrast moments that dealt with Ireland in relation to other places she's been, these were a lot more likely to hold my interest, I found, than her oft-murky forays into her own allegedly bleak childhood, her controversial romantic life, or her stark realizations at her own failings, failures, and foibles.

Still there's something endearing about a woman whose best mate is her dog, Molly, and whose singlemost passion in life seems to be her readiness to delve into self-deprecation as if it is also her salvation.

I don't regret reading Almost There, but I don't plan on seeking out any of Nuala O'Faolain's other published books, either.

I love this book. While her first, Are you Somebody, was so full of darkness, this is full of hope. It is a book about redemption. She is not there yet, but almost there. She writes BEAUTIFULLY. A real wordsmith. The way she writes alone makes it worthwhile. I am in my 30s and male, and I found that I could relate to the themes she raises. They really are universal.

At least I think it will. Reading it as a white female, I feel that this book helped me realize (and at least make my way towards understanding) the constant awareness of race that nonwhites feel while walking around. I read this book as part of a class in which we read many other texts about race and so it was one of many that helped me with this. It might seem silly, but it was very easy for me before to ignore the pressure and importance that race plays in everyday life in America. I may not be aware of it, but every day the fact that I am white allows me privilege that I would not otherwise have.

Call it my own ignorance, but for me that is what this book was about. Someone else will read it differently, depending on their history and race. For me, one of the good things about this book was that it helped show that racism was more than just the individual prejudices of a few people but was not written in an academic way. One of the other reviewers complained that Derricotte seems to want everything - pass in the white world as white and be accepted in the black community. That might be true, but that is not the feeling that the book left me with - and that might be because I am white and thus perhaps do not understand the consequences of racism as well.

Call it as you will. I loved the book, although it was hard for me to read. But it might not have the same impact on you as it did on me.

(By the way, I am reading the tag suggestions and what does the Rwandan Genocide have to do with a book about a light-skinned African-American woman in upper-class America? What is wrong with these tags?)

The book is structured as a series of journal entries, but it is nevertheless carefully considered and constructed. It provides an unusual perspective on racism in America, from the perspective of a very light skinned African American woman. She recounts her experiences in vivid detail, and they are intellectually and emotionally powerful. Most importantly, Derricotte does not settle for simple analyses or easy answers, but lets the complexity of her life and her place in various communities come through, with all the attendant messiness. As such, I'm not surprised that this book has drawn widely disparate reviews from readers. I consider it DEFINITELY worth reading.

I liked the book, and I really wanted more about certain things. It's interesting to get a glimpse into her world and its extraordinary circumstances. Her story helps to identify the nuances of racism today. Also, she zeroes us in on some very intimate moments in her life, and that raises questions about human relations in general. I thought it was brave of her to share like this. I'm sure I would read another installment if she wrote one.

It took me longer than usual to finish a book of this size. Inside of this little book was heart wrenching anguish and I just could not read it through without interruptions, reading other things and giving myself a rest.
Is Ms. Derracotte a victim of the tragic mulatto syndrome or is some of her anguish of her own making?

Coming from an upper class African American family that has kept the blood line "light and bright" for generations, the author's journey as a white- looking black woman comes to a climax when she moves to an all-white exclusive neighborhood in New York. It's not that they don't want her there, they just don't want her trying to assimilate into their way of life. The fact that she conducted the initial business of purchasing the house without her husband (he was more identifiable black, thus she participated in the " passing" game.) should have been a clue, nevertheless she was determined to make them accept her. And this is where I had conflict. Why would a black woman who was raised around other affluent blacks, accepted and identified as black, want to be in these people's country clubs and social circles? Why did she not avail herself to the groups that she grew up among, The Links, Jack and Jill, etc. and be happy where she would be accepted. Even as a poet/writer there are groups to belong, many of them interracial who will accept one on the basis of common goals.

More than a book on a woman conflicted by her blackness of lack thereof is the sad commentary on race identity and how America has pitted blacks among each other based on skin color going back to slavery. Nella Larson, Jessie Fauset, and Wallace Thurman and numerous other authors have written on the this issue of characters who are conflicted and the schizophrenic existence they live. Also how one's family views and upbringing affects how we feel about ourselves. When pride in one's race and self and not enough self-love is not stressed enough then we have these kind of stories. Some blacks of the author's background have similar stories, others do not go through this much drama.

I met Ms. Derracotte about three years ago when she was a writer-in-residence at Mills College here in Oakland. I went to her reading, met her and have to say that she seems more at peace with herself. She is a cofounder of a writers retreat for African American poets. In answer to one reviewer who asked what was the point of this book, I think the answer was this was a catharsis, a cleansing for her soul.

Toi Derricotte is an African American poet with skin so light that she claims she's often mistaken for white.  What's more startling is that Terricotte isn't always upset when this happens.  We have heard discourse from other light-skinned African Americans about the dangers of passing, and more often than not, these people feel a need to be somehow more committed to 'the community' and 'the nation' than their darker-skinned compatriots. What we haven't heard is the voice of a woman who is conflicted about her own feelings about blackness, and how she distances herself from darker-skinned African Americans.

The Black Notebooks is a literary memoir written over the space of twenty years. In it Derricotte discusses the distance she places between herself and other darker-skinned African Americans, her obsession with joining an all-white country club even after her neighbors have made it perfectly clear that an invitation will never be forthcoming, as well as her experiences with being the only Black poet in residence at a well-known writer's colony.  Much in the way that GLBT people have coming out experiences wherein they disclose their sexual orientation, Derricotte has similar revealing moments when she has to reveal to whites that she is in fact African American.  

Rather than being exhausting, Derricotte's memoir is a brave reflection on how it feels to navigate safely (albeit not comfortably) between two worlds, and how this navigation affects her mental health. The book isn't written as a plea for understanding or acceptance, it simply is. Her honesty over her recalcitrant feelings is like nothing else I've ever seen, and for that reason alone, it's a worthwhile read.