In this tender collection of letters to his son, Tomás Q. Morín meditates on love, the body, and the future his son will have to face. He writes about the America his son will soon be born into, a country that will constantly question his place in it. An America that wields labels like Black, Brown, and white to make itself feel safe. An America in which Mexican American people continue to be seen as outsiders in their ancestral lands.
Starting in New Jersey during a long-distance teaching position before his son’s birth and spanning to the present day, Morín shares his experiences with racism to sketch for his son ways to respond to bigotry that won’t sacrifice his dignity or his spirit. He also challenges his young son, and the reader by extension, to reassess their perception of the world and the language we use to understand and label our surroundings. Hovering over Morín’s bold vision for shaking off the chains of injustice is a quartet of literary Baldwin and Dostoevsky, Ellison and Camus. Where Are You From is a poignant and gripping testament that speaks to all the sons and daughters of America.
Tomás Q. Morín is the author of the collection of poems Machete and the forthcoming memoir Let Me Count the Ways, as well as the poetry collections Patient Zero and A Larger Country. He is co-editor with Mari L’Esperance of the anthology, Coming Close: Forty Essays on Philip Levine, and translator of The Heights of Macchu Picchu by Pablo Neruda. He teaches at Rice University and Vermont College of Fine Arts.
In a similar fashion to “Between the World and Me” by Ta-Nehisi Coates, Morin writes a personally powerful narrative that examines the things that a parent would most like their child to know: how to survive and thrive in this world. In "Where Are You From: Letters to My Son," Tomas Morin crafts a deeply personal exploration of identity, belonging, and culture, through beautifully crafted letters to his son. Through a series of heartfelt letters to his son, Morin delves into his own experiences of grappling with these complex issues, offering poignant reflections on the challenges faced by People of Color in contemporary America. Morin's narrative is both intimate and profound, weaving together anecdotes from his own life with insightful discussions on the broader societal implications and what he wants to share with his son.
Central to Morin's narrative is his unwavering commitment to his son's well-being and understanding. Through his letters, he navigates the delicate balance between shielding his child from the harsh realities of prejudice while equipping him with the knowledge and resilience to confront them. Morin's prose is imbued with tenderness and sincerity, as he imparts invaluable lessons on empathy, compassion, and the importance of confronting injustice. To do this, Morin approaches each subject with a blend of honesty and introspection. His willingness to engage with uncomfortable truths underscores the depth of his relationship with his son.
Tomas Morin's heartfelt letters offer both solace and wisdom, providing readers with a compelling glimpse into the challenges and triumphs of navigating a world marked by prejudice. Through his deeply personal reflections, Morin invites readers to contemplate their relationships with identity and heritage, making this book a powerful testament to the enduring power of love, empathy, and understanding, which is something that America could most benefit from during this time.
On a more personal note, I really enjoyed this book. I found his examinations to be unique and intimate since he was addressing such a personal subject, and I felt his message of navigating pain and love was so powerful. This book helped me examine my family on a much deeper level and wrestle with some of the painful experiences that Morin describes himself. Overall, it was amazing and I'd recommend it.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
In this collection of letters to his son Jack, Tomás Q. Morín tries his best to instill some knowledge into his son about his experiences in society as a Mexican-American while imparting some guidance so that Jack can navigate this life making dignified decisions. The central motif of this collection is racism and how it has impacted the way Morín goes about living in a society where his worth is questioned by the color of his skin. He makes constant references to the struggles and mistreatment of BIPOC people in America throughout history. I think these letters are a great example of the realities that minority and BIPOC populations face when dealing with racism. Mainly because in this society, you're forced to prepare yourself and your children for what they may come to face at the hands of people who fear them, hate them, or have a superiority complex that's harmful to others. While racism is certainly a motivating factor for these letters, Morín also discusses love and taking care of your health. I liked that these letters had an authentic feel, which I think stems from Morín being very contemplative, poetic, and lost in thought throughout the text. He's pretty imaginative, references the poetic and biblical works of others, and uses them and metaphors to compare to his life. I was unsure what to expect coming into this book, but Morín's work moved me, and I appreciate his views on racism and his commitment to enlightening his son. My only concern was the formatting. There wasn't necessarily a cohesive separation of the chapters. They were numbered, and some had bolded beginning sentences, but as you would expect new chapters to start on a new page, these did not. The formatting felt like a continuation of run-on letters, which could've been intentional. Regardless of that one detail, Where Are You From: Letters To My Son provided a fresh perspective on the effects of racism on the mental and physical health of minority/BIPOC individuals and Tomás Q. Morín's obligation to protect his family and share his thoughts that he thinks will be helpful for his son in the long run.
Thanks to NetGalley and University of Nebraska Press for the ARC!
I really liked this!
Framed as letters to the author's unborn son, Tómas Q. Mórin’s Where Are You From is a sort of formalized version of the mythology that every family implicitly creates—how do we fit in a family and how does a family fit in the world?
I think readers’ mileage will vary depending on their tolerance for rambling epistolary, and as much as I appreciated it, I still found some of the digressions a little frustrating. Even so, within the book’s premise, I question whether there is such a thing as a digression. When we speak with family, it is sometimes the smallest, most irrelevant anecdotes that make us feel closest, so everything Mórin shares retains value, even if it isn’t always clear.
The excessive style works really well to capture race-related angst. It resists simplifications, which conveys how insidious and wide-ranging racism truly is. Similarly, the approach allows Mórin to pull in so many different voices from a range of authors. I’m not sure if it’s something exclusive to the galley or a stylistic decision, but most of these citations have unclear edges and bleed into Mórin’s voice, which also adds an authenticity to the book—like the actual quotes matter less than their remembrance. It coalesces wonderfully with the premise that these are letters to be inherited.
I find it fitting that a work so concerned with borders takes so many opportunities to dissolve them. The boundaries between a poem and its analysis are left ambiguous, and the constant slippage in and out of different genres forces the reader to ask—what does it mean to occupy a text?
Not a point of criticism as much as curiosity—I wonder if there is a tighter edit in here that still captures the same tone. The book is so dense that I think it will reward people who return for a second read, but that density also creates a shapelessness that might prevent people from doing so.
Tomas Morin's book is a letter to us all. Whether or not you've dealt with racism, this book is a thought experiment on how to live in a broken world--how to welcome hope and new life while admitting that some things are deeply painful and real. He masterfully tackles the loneliness of racism and the sting of micro aggressions, yet still courageously extends a hand of understanding and love. He weaves together poetry and prose to artfully cope with his own pain and challenge the rest of us to fully see the silent suffering of the oppressed. What consistently took me by surprise was the undercurrent of love. The framing of the book, as letters to his son, allowed his tone to remain consistently loving. At times heartbroken, but always loving. The main thread was never anger, hatred, or revenge, despite the ever apparent depth of his pain. This is what made the book so successful for me. The hurt resonated deeply, but it was undergirded by the more persuasive force of love. One passage that I will carry with me, and that seems to sum up the hopes for his book, is: "The more we feel the oppression we wrestle against is our individual burden, the greater the chance it will crush us." More than anything, I felt that his book is a plea to share his people's burdens, and an invitation to lay our own at his feet--to see through the eyes of the other, and to read ourselves into his pain and love.
"Where Are You From: Letters to My Son" is a personal and heartfelt collection of letters and memoirs that Morin wrote, as the title says, to his son. While the Book itself tackles many societal subjects from cultural differences, racial identity, and belonging, it doesn't handle these topics too heavily and in a more down to earth way. The letters themselves are filled with humor and love for the Author's son and gives the reader a unique view into Morin's own experiences and his suggestions to his son on how to navigate difficult and uncomfortable situations that can arise in the complex world that we live in. The book itself is very enjoyable and a really fun read, that being said I personally wouldn't hold the book to a higher standard than what it is. Morin himself invites us to look at the world differently through his letters, but despite this doesn't make any grand call out to the world as a whole, and I feel the book is better for it. He doesn't make any grand or life changing statements, but the small tender choices he makes throughout his lived experiences give the book a warm feeling that gave me the enjoyment I got from reading it. So while I wouldn't say this book was Morin's magnum opus, he does achieve his purpose of writing this book and it is what he set it out to be: A collection of letters to his son to help him throughout his life.
I’m such a sucker for memoirs written in essay or letter collections especially when it is written for a family member. In this collection of letters to the author’s son with reflection on his own life to give advice for things his son will face being biracial in America.
It definitely felt like a father talking to their kid in the way that things were a little disjointed but as you got familiar with the authors voice you could see all the threads making a bigger picture. It would definitely be one to reread I think you’d get more out of it on multiple reads- very poetic and sometimes lost me a little bit though so I don’t know that I would have the patience to reread. But overall it was enjoyable in an emotional way.
Thanks to NetGalley and University of Nebraska Press for an eARC.