The ambivalence of a grown child's love for his parents.I have a nephew, well-mannered and intelligent, now 20 years old. All his life he has lived with his parents in California. Except for the last six years (his only sibling, a sister, was born six years ago), he was an only child. He now wants to leave home, go to Texas by himself, away from his family, to work or study. His parents could not understand it.Jamaica Kincaid wrote this book from the point of view of a child like that. Except that Annie John (the narrator) is a girl, but nevertheless an only child too and likewise intelligent. She lived in Antigua (an island in the Caribbean) and grew up there. At age 17, she was already taller than her parents (which,strangely, can be said also of my aforementioned nephew).The novel starts with Annie John's recollection of her childhood and of the special bond she had with her mother. She recalls small incidents of remembered love, how she had admired her mother's beauty, the smell of her hair, the food she cooked for her, the things they did together. As she grew up to be a teenager, however, seemingly for no reason at all, she began to hate her mother and the place she grew up in.Now, she's 17. She's leaving for England to study nursing (a course she doesn't like, but which she finds infinitely better than staying home). She lays in her bed for the last time, looking at the familiar things inside their house she's determined not to go back to again, ever, but without telling any of her parents about it:"The house we live in my father built with his own hands. The bed I am lying in my father built with his own hands. If I get up and sit on a chair, it is a chair my father built with his own hands. When my mother uses a large wooden spoon to stir the porridge we sometimes eat as part of our breakfast, it will be a spoon that my father has carved with his own hands. The sheets on my bed my mother made with her own hands. The curtains hanging at my window my mother made with her own hands. The nightie I am wearing, with scalloped neck and hem and sleeves, my mother made with her own hands. When I look at things in a certain way, I suppose I should say that the two of them made me with their own hands. For most of my life, when the three of us went anywhere together I stood between the two of them or sat between the two of them. But then I got too big, and there I was, shoulder to shoulder with them more or less, and it became not very comfortable to walk down the street together. And so now there they are together and here I am apart. I don't see them now the way I used to, and I don't love them now the way I used to. The bitter thing about it is that they are just the same and it is I who have changed, so all the things I used to be and all the things I used to feel are as false as the teeth in my father's head. Why, I wonder, didn't I see the hypocrite in my mother when, over the years, she said that she loved me and could hardly live without me, while at the same time proposing and arranging separation after separation, including this one, which, unbeknownst to her, I have arranged to be permanent? So now I, too, have hypocrisy, and breasts (small ones), and hair growing in the appropriate places, and sharp eyes, and I have made a vow never to be fooled again.""Lying in my bed for the last time, I thought, This is what I add up to. At that, I felt as if someone had placed me in a hole and was forcing me first down and then up against the pressure of gravity. I shook myself and prepared to get up. I said to myself, 'I am getting up out of this bed for the last time.' Everything I would do that morning until I got on the ship that would take me to England I would be doing for the last time, for I had made up my mind that, come what may, the road for me now went only in one direction: away from my home, away from my mother, away from my father, away from the everlasting blue sky, away from the everlasting hot sun, away from people who said to me, 'This happened during the time your mother was carrying you.' If I had been asked to put into words why I felt this way, if I had been given years to reflect and come up with the words of why I felt this way, I would not have been able to come up with so much as the letter 'A'. I only knew that I felt the way I did, and that this feeling was the strongest thing in my life."The scene, the following day, was heart-rending for it felt very familiar to me. I also grew up in an island, with my parents and siblings, and left it to study in the city. I, too, had experienced leaving our house, with my baggage, and with my anxious parents in tow, my mother telling me to be careful, my father trying to look confident, us passing through some places in our town which I have my own memories of, my parents at the dock, as my boat leaves, looking at me and the boat until we are so far off the sea and I could see them no more.
I read this book because my class was doing a winter book read, where we all got our own assigned book. I didn't pick this book thinking it was interesting, I actually thought It was kinda dumb, and just wanted to read it to get it over with so i could get back to my winter break. When I first picked the book up and started reading I had no idea what it was even about. As I read I was hoping the book would describe some parts that I didn't understand, like why there was so much detail about how she didn't think people she knew would die. At the end of the book I was super confused, I had almost no idea what had happened, and had no clue what the book was even about. Then thinking about it I realised that I had a lot of relations with the charcters. I felt like the book had been written after some of the things i had done in my like, but the truth is that the things that happened then happen now. like having our little hide out away from out house where we could just escape and be away from out parents when were upset, and all the family and friend drama, and how we meet people and how they enter and leave our lives, but when there gone, there never fully gone. In the end though I can say that I personally thought the writing was really good. Jamaica Kincaid did a really good job using metaphors and similes, the book really painted a picture in my head. I do recommend this book to people who don't get bored easy, and are looking for a good book to read. I feel like the more mature readers will enjoy this book more.
What do You think about Annie John (1997)?
Follows Annie John as she journeys through childhood and works her way through adolescence. Annie must learn about herself and her changing body while she must also deal with the complexities of interacting in her society. She struggles constantly with her mother, and they move from having an extremely loving relationship to battling with one another constantly. Anne resents that her mother does not retain the same level of familiarity with her once she reaches adolescence and her mother attempts to lead her along a more helpful path of independence. Regardless of her mother’s intentions, Annie becomes distant from her mother and their relationship is heavily strained by the end of the narrative. This text is particularly interesting in light of the colonial aspects therein. The story takes place in Antigua, a small island that was overcome by Britain and still holds many allegiances at the time of the narrative. Many of Annie’s disagreements with her mother can be connected to the political conflicts between the island and Britain, giving the reader a more dimensional reading with a strong foundation in historical events.
—Alicia Scully
Kincaid is perhaps my most important teacher. I started this book lying on rocks on a solo Maine retreat and every page is covered in multi-color ink, depending on how often I read it and when. Then I left it on a family vacation and never saw it again despite heroic efforts. The sheer emotional intensity of this book has me hesitating before engaging a new copy and finishing. I cried with recognition through the first half. Kincaid has a searing perception and can damn and love in equal measure. Not many people write about mothers and daughters with all the passion and the anger and the pain that gets incorporated into other romances and destructive affairs. But they should.
—Jessica
This coming-of-age story follows a young girl, Annie, as she grows up on the island of Antigua. There are eight episodes, each a picture of Annie's life as she tries to understand the world around her. Annie wasn't a likeable character, though I suppose few young teenage girls are likeable in real life. So in that way Kincaid's portrayal of the girl felt very real, but at the same time, it's hard to love such a selfish and often cruel character. Annie has a tendency to become obsessed with her friends. She lets one girl become the focus of her world and then, just as quickly, she loses interest in her and moves on. Kincaid has said in interviews that she never meant for Annie's character to be interpreted as gay, but at the same time, the relationships feel more like crushes than friendships. As a child Annie idolizes her mother, but as she grows older she begins to hate her. She develops a deep resentment of her mother and never overcomes it. The book skirts around many issues and in doing so left me wanting. It touches on depression, giving the reader a glimpse of that condition in Annie, but just as quickly drops it. Overall it was an interesting read, but didn't really work for me. If the basic story sounds good I'd recommend, The Meaning of Consuelo and The House on Mango Street. I enjoyed both of those books more than Annie John and they have similar premises.
—Melissa
