The Color of Water

The Color of Water reads more like a novel than a memoir or tribute. It draws the reader into Ruth's—and James'—world, leaving you wondering how on earth things came to be the way they were. The persistence and feeling in this book is near overwhelming.

4.5/5 - This is the second book I've read by the author this year and I have to say he is a really great writer. The story is about a black man's love for his Jewish mother and how they both navigated through life. This could've been made into a tv show or movie because his mother had lived a life that was worth documenting. It's hard to believe this was written almost 30 years ago (‘97).

Maybe I missed something but the strongest parts of this memoir were of McBride's mother's reflections and stories and I found myself wanting to get back to her sections and feeling sort of... just listless at his sections. So interesting that there's so much meditation on McBride's mother's fear of honesty and emotional history when, by the end, it feels McBride is also running away from confronting what/how he feels in a way that makes clear this is a memoir about his mother and his parts are only context to hers, not his reflections. I closed it and thought, wow, can't wait for McBride to get to his mom's age and feel comfortable revisiting this but for real, this time.

Worth reading in its own right as a powerful memoir, and also as a way to gain additional insight into McBride's amazing novel [b:The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store 65678550 The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store James McBride https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1685350945l/65678550.SY75.jpg 100130221].

This is probably closer to a 3.5 for me. James writes lovingly about his mother, and the stories he shares about their youths and upbringings are interesting and endearing.

I had a hard time getting past James's consistent use of “Mommy” in referring to his mom. Adults referring to their parents as mommy or daddy always makes me cringe a little. I understand that to a point this is a regional/cultural/generational thing, but for me it's too much. It doesn't come across as warm for me. I call my mom “Mom” and she's in my phone by her first and last name, not “mom” so... It felt weird every time I saw it, which of course was every page.

James's faith is clearly important to him, and to his mother. They both talk more or less non-stop about it and its role in their development and lives. For James's mother, this is a critical element of the story, and the movement between Judaism and Christianity is interesting. For James's story, it seems less interesting and more like sermonizing. James does a lot of sermonizing in his other books, and usually I have to just grin and bear it.

The most interesting thing about this book, for me, is having it change my read of his two most recent books, Deacon King Kong (my favorite of his) and The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store (my least favorite of his that I've read). These books clearly feature characters and stories from his childhood and the history of his mother, sometimes adapted and sometimes not so much. James talks about this in particular with Heaven and Earth Grocery Store, but reading this enriched them both for me.

I became a fan of James McBride's writing when I read The Good Lord Bird several years ago. When a friend of mine handed me The Color of Water two weeks ago (when I asked her for something uplifting to read while I was recovering from illness), I was excited to read it, but I had no idea what an emotional wallop I was going to receive.

James McBride describes being mystified and somewhat disturbed as a child that his mother didn't look like the mothers of his friends, but she brushed his questions off, or redirected his attention to topics she considered more important than her history or her racial identity: education or other things he should be doing to make something of himself.

This book tells the story of his mother's life up to the point when she became his mother, and his own process of growing up with her as his mother, learning about her past and coming to terms with what it meant for his own life. Chapters alternate between his mother's voice, describing what it was like to grow up the daughter of Polish Jewish immigrants, and his own voice, describing what it was like to be the son of this formidable woman.

Ruth's story is heart-wrenching. Her father, a not very successful rabbi who moved his family around as his contracts with congregations were not renewed, was an abusive brute. Her mother, disabled by childhood illness, was quiet and passive, “a good Jewish wife,” who didn't speak English. Ruth and her siblings ran her father's general store, endured his abuse, and watched their father beat and berate their mother. When Ruth finally made the move to leave her family for her own preservation, she was plagued by guilt. She married a black man named McBride who worked for her aunt in New York, which caused her whole extended family to expel her. “You're out of the family,” her aunt told her when she called at one point to ask for help. “Stay out. We sat shiva for you.”

Letting go of her family was the beginning of a new life for Ruth. She converted to Christianity and helped her husband start a new church in their apartment living room. She had seven children with him, and when he died, she remarried and had five more children with her second husband. Although Ruth was financially poor, she was full of energy and resourcefulness for raising her family and building community. She had lifelong friends in the majority black community where she lived and among the families of her two husbands. She kept moving.

The chapters where James McBride describes his attempts to distance himself from his embarrassing, mysterious mother are painful to read. He doesn't gloss over the fact that he was courting danger. He credits some close calls with violence and some serious talks with black men who had spent significant time in prison with helping him begin to care more about the direction his life was taking. He describes gradually reentering the life of his family, and his description of his mother putting him on the Greyhound bus to send him to college is understatedly touching.

Although it was surely a practical decision for Ruth to close the door to her past for a long period of her life, re-opening it for her son turned out to have surprising, healing consequences for both of them. It sounds trite, but this is such a powerful, affecting story. I'll be thinking about it for a long time.

I read this for a book club, but also for #nonfictionnovember and I'm glad I did. I remember everyone was reading it a few years ago and I wasn't interested simply because everyone was reading it. Also, I compare every memoir to The Glass Castle, which I know is not even fair- but I can't help myself.
I think I was encouraged by how bad ass Ruth Jordan was in the book. This woman was amazing. I loved the parts when James was younger more than other parts of the story (telling?). It's an excellent read and a beautiful tribute.