Reading “Another Brooklyn” is like encountering someone’s memories. It doesn’t progress chronologically, instead it moves the way memories do; out of order, one gliding into the next. Every so often I noticed a sentence or a phrase so beautiful that I’d have to pause and read it again out loud. If you enjoy beautiful, poetic writing, this is for you.
Written as a series of memories, it follows a young girl growing up in Brooklyn between the ages of 8-15 with her 3 best friends. If you think girls as young as 8 don’t know what it’s like to feel looked at, or that your skin color doesn’t affect how you experience the world from day 1, or that things that may seem like small injustices can’t cause huge trauma…give this a try. It’s beautiful and sad and interesting and makes you think about how you interact with your own memories.
“The four of us together weren’t something [boys] understood. They understood girls alone, folding their arms across their breasts, praying for invisibility.”