An Angle of Vision is a compelling anthology that collects personal essays and memoir by a diverse group of gifted authors united by their poor or working-class roots in America. The contributors include Dorothy Allison, Joy Castro, Lisa D. Chavez, Mary Childers, Sandra Cisneros, Judith Ortiz Cofer, Teresa Dovalpage, Maureen Gibbon, Dwonna Goldstone, Joy Harjo, Lorraine M. López, Karen Salyer McElmurray, Amelia Maria de la Luz Montes, Bich Minh Nguyen, Judy Owens, Lynn Pruett, Heather Sellers, and Angela Threatt.
In a sense, these stories are the travel narratives of women who have journeyed beyond their family circumstances to cross class borders, aided by educational opportunities that encouraged their literary gifts to blossom. Many of the essays reflect on the immigrant experience and struggles against the multiplying factors of poverty, gender, and ethnicity. Some authors recount their first moment of class awareness (Bich Minh Nguyen's occurred while watching Laverne and Shirley on the family's first television). Still others describe encounters in the relatively privileged world of higher education---where the subject of class is evident but mostly off-limits. Throughout An Angle of Vision the authors describe delicate balances of work and family, men and money, motherhood and sexuality. Each author reflects on the experiences that provided an opportunity to develop her own distinct identity and her own particular "angle of vision."
This book highlights gendered and raced dimensions of growing up working class, poor and marginilized. Some of the essays resonated with me more and some less, but in general, I really liked this collection.
I am so proud that one of my essays was included in this volume, and happy to have taken a couple of days to re-read the essays of others. It was an honor to be included with Dorothy Allison, Lynn Pruett and the amazing Lisa Chavez. All the essays were all so great, but I especially enjoyed Queen for a Day by Amelia Maria De La Luz Montes. I love this from Joy Castro: To be a writer is to claim a voice, a hard thing for anyone schooled to silence. You step into the light on your own terms now, you claim the mic, telling the story you have come here to tell.
One contributor recalls a house adorned with handmade “No Trespassing!” signs and year-round Christmas lights; another remembers her nearly all-white junior high school, where the restroom mirror was one of the few places she saw a black face. Eighteen authors describe the challenges and rewards of an underfunded upbringing.
Reading these personal essays made me more interested in reading their fiction and poetry. I'm already familiar with the work of a couple of these writers, but I've now got a much longer to-read list.