![]() The topics are mostly big, raw and exposed. Occasionally a bit of old-fashioned advice filters in, as during a commencement address/poem in which she urges the graduates to make a difference, to be present and accountable. She understands the uses and abuses of violence. ![]() ![]() She cheated madness by counting her blessings. Lies, she notes, often spring out of fear. She is reminded of the charity that words and gestures bring and the liberation that comes with honesty. ![]() She refuses to preach or consider her personal insights as generalized edicts. Much of it is framed by the “struggle against a condition of surrender” or submission. “Believing that life loves the liver of it, I have dared to try many things,” she writes, proceeding to recount pungent moments, stories in which her behavior sometimes backfired, and sometimes surprised even herself. They come in the shape of memories and poems, tools that readers can fashion to their needs. Angelou ( A Song Flung Up to Heaven, 2002, etc.) doesn’t have a daughter, per se, but “thousands of daughters,” multitudes that she gathers here in a Whitmanesque embrace to deliver her experiences. ![]()
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