This is a story of a tight-knit Chicago suburb, and their proud Black history. When one resident's son, Stew Pot, is released from prison and comes home to the neighborhood he tormented all those years ago, we know things won't be smooth. And they aren't. This layered tale of sin, redemption, forgiveness, and betrayal is sometimes sad, shocking, thought-provoking, and laugh-out-loud funny. I really enjoyed it and wanted to move right on in.
This book starts out with a rambling narrative of some mystery book sent to random people, and the search for its origin. Then you find out, and the answer is a big nothing. Jon ultimately takes a class on how to interpret the PCL-R Checklist (THE Psychopath Test), and after this three-day event, seems to fancy himself as an expert in the field. The book took us down yet more digressive paths into the lives of psychopaths (or are they?), and all the while, Jon was akwardly comparing himself to these people, sometimes saying things like, "Well, at least I haven't done anything as bad as the things Charlotte has done." Odd that he would put that in the book, in quotes, unless he was going to slam us later on with a real twister that would make one think twice about giving oneself too much credit for being awesome. This wasn't the only statement like this, so I was really looking forward to the inevitable kicker, lesson, overarching wisdom. Nope. Just awkward. Although I learned some about the unfortunate history of the mental health industry, I honestly could have skipped the whole thing.
The older I get, the more I realize that "we" most certainly weren't always the good guys, despite our history lessons. This portrayal of a poor family fleeing persecution in old-timey Phillipines is pretty jarring. Their first rulers were the Spaniards, and although some were moral and kind, most were not. You hope that with the introduction of the U.S. troops, things will change. Alas. Our history classes didn't quite tell the whole story, it seems. Educational, rich and shameful.
