I am not even going to be funny in this review. I was fucking crying reading this. And mind you, I usually read on the train.
At least it wasn't "Kite Runner" or some other crap.
The accounts Juan Williams gathered in this book are all related in a rather matter-of-factly manner. "A large ball of fire floated across our yard toward the rose bush by the steps. The ball rolled over and turned into Mama".
I have so much admiration for all the people who fought in the Civil Rights Movement.
How the hell can you stay commited to the 'non-violence' approach when someone has just set your mother on fire? How do you live surrounded by so much hatred?
I just don't get where people find it in themselves to hate so much. I used to hate one person once and it was exhausting so I stopped and some of these people would hate actively all their lives a whole race of people. Were they that insecure?
And I know I am using past tense because I am naively optimistic.
My friend John tells me that Juan Williams is a right wing-ish kind of a guy over there in US, the Fox News type, but I swear I couldn't tell. There is an account that presents smuggling immigrants through border into the US as a legitimate form of civil disobedience.