A daughter's future and her father's past converge in this explosive first novel exploring identity, assimilation, and the legacy of race
"My father is black and my mother is white and my brother is a vegetable." When Emma Boudreaux's older brother, Bernie, winds up in a coma after a freak accident, it's as if she loses a part of herself. All their lives, he has served as her compass, her stronger, better Bernie was brilliant when Emma was smart, charismatic when she was awkward, and confident when she was shy. Only Bernie was able to navigate-if not always diplomatically-the terrain of their biracial identity. Now, as the chronic rash that's flared up throughout her life returns with a vengeance, Emma is sleepwalking through her first year at college, left alone to grow into herself.
The key to Emma's self-discovery lies in her father's past. Esteemed Princeton professor Bernard Boudreaux is emotionally absent and secretive about his family history. Little does Emma know just how haunted that history is, how tortured the path from the Deep South town to his present Ivy League success has been. Though her father and brother are bound by the past, Emma might just escape.
In exhilarating, magical prose, The Professor's Daughter traces the borderlands of race and family, the contested territory that gives birth to rage, confusion, madness, and invisibility. This striking debut marks the arrival of an astonishingly original voice that surges with energy and purpose.
Emily Raboteau writes at the intersection of social and environmental justice, race, climate change, and parenthood. Her books are Lessons for Survival, Searching for Zion, winner of an American Book Award and finalist for the Hurston/Wright Legacy Award, and the critically acclaimed novel, The Professor’s Daughter. Since the release of the 2018 Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change report, she has focused on writing about the climate crisis. A contributing editor at Orion Magazine and a regular contributor to the New York Review of Books, Raboteau’s writing has recently appeared and been anthologized in the New Yorker, the New York Times, New York Magazine, The Nation, Best American Science Writing, Best American Travel Writing, and elsewhere. Her distinctions include an inaugural Climate Narratives Prize from Arizona State University, the Deadline Club Award in Feature Reporting from the Society of Professional Journalists’ New York chapter, and grants and fellowships from the New York Foundation for the Arts, the Bronx Council on the Arts, the Robert B. Silvers Foundation, the Lannan Foundation, and Yaddo. She serves as nonfiction faculty at the Bread Loaf Environmental Writing Conference and is a full professor at the City College of New York (CUNY) in Harlem, once known as “the poor man’s Harvard.” She lives in the Bronx.
I found this book riveting, from the first page to the last. Ms. Raboteau's writing is deft, assured, and daring. I was transported throughout the reading and willingly went anywhere the prose took me--and it took me many places (from a train wreck to a lynching to a boarding school to Ethiopia to the bedside of a formerly vital loved one who has become a "vegetable" to a flying dream state and more). Really, the writing just sings and the themes of race and belonging and identity are as timely as they are timeless. A wonderful, wonderful book.
Professors daughter. I really enjoyed their family for the first 50 or so pages then it got confusing and lost me entirely, good thing it was a short book.
I couldn't give The Professor's Daughter five stars though I so wanted to, especially for its author's incites and masterful writing (see quotes below). Somewhere around half-way through, though, I lost some interest. Then close to the end I engaged again, just to find out if there was some kind of a real ending. Why?
Since finishing the story, I have read an interview with Raboteau. She says she's not particularly plot driven. Rather she's more interested in racial and religious backgrounds, tensions, triumphs and tragedies, especially among those of mixed racial backgrounds. There's nothing wrong or "bad" about her preferred interests. We could use more like her in today's conflict-ridden, outright nasty "civil" discourse. But I guess her lack of a focused plot line is why I slowed down; she didn't know quite how the tale would end herself. For instance, she included a brief synopsis of how bad a drunken, grown-up Tiny would feel years later about the time he and the other boys tried to smoke BJ out of the closet at prep school. I think that having already strongly portrayed the characteristics of Tiny, Ned and the other boys at St. Ignatius prep, Raboteau was not obliged to insert this little tale into the middle (p. 146) of the greater story. It lead no where in particular other than to reaffirm Tiny's weak, follow-the-crowd-no-matter-what personality. She also began to add multitudes of new characters, not all of whose names seemed that critical. Retelling the long African Tale of "The Origins of Little Willa" (p. 167) also failed to add much to my understanding of the atrocities resulting from racism in Africa. Finally Raboteau started to turn a bit sloppy with her formerly exquisite language and syntax. For example the sentence, "The skirt of her polyester dress had static-clung to her stockings,..." (p 244) was strange in construction; turning "static-cling" into a verb form seemed a bit far-fetched and again slowed the mostly lyrical pace of the book. Perhaps this meandering is indicative of many first-time novelists. It can't be easy to tie up a long tale, encompassing three generations and told from several points of view, into a perfectly satisfying ending.
In summary, then, I certainly hope that Raboteau continues to write novels, but that she concentrate a bit more on plot development, realizing its importance as a driver for the reader. At the same I anticipate that she will carry on embracing the lyricism of her written word and including her deep understanding of the history and experience of the American racial/religious divide.
A few great quotes:
I remain a question mark. When people ask me what I am, which is not an everyday question, but one I get asked every day, I want to tell them about Bernie [narrator's (Emma's) brother]. I don't, of course. I just tell them what color my parents are, which is to say, my father is black and my mother is white...somehow in the pooling pudding of genes, our mom's side won out in the category of hair. And this is really what makes you black in the eyes of others. The Professor's Daughter p 2
My father is black and my mother is white and my brother is a vegetable. When we were small the vegetable told me stories. The stories began when we moved from the West Coast to the East Coast. The Professor's Daughter p 3
The highway is winding behind us. I am six and my brother is seven. We are driving cross-country from Oakland where kids like us are a dime a dozen, double-dutching on asphalt and break dancing on cardboard dance floors under helicopter skies. The Professor's Daughter p 4
This is a novel, but according to my book group the story is pretty autobiographical. A mixed race young woman struggles with her relationship to her family. Her father's inability to be an emotionally available parent is rooted in his past, and painful family history, in the Jim Crow South.
I really liked this book, even though Raboteau likes to lapse into Toni Morrison like poetic prose - but can't quite pull it off. Also, I found some of her portrayal of the South, Louisiana and specifically New Orleans, to be a bit cliche and not particularly nuanced. Her portrayal of the hearts of her main characters, on the other hand, is wonderful.
A lot of people slept on this one...I mean, even I came to it late...It's a seriously layered story about a daughter's journey towards understanding her father's past...This is one of the best brother & siter stories I've ever read...It's an amazing, powerful and well written novel...Emily is the bomb!
While beautifully written, this felt disjointed, more like a collection of short stories than a cohesive narrative. The unrelated stories proved distracting, as I waited for a connection.
I don’t use even GoodReads and just did the whole “forgot my password” thing so I could sign in and give this book 5 stars. I am so impressed. I want to ask Emily Raboteau how she did it. It is not a typical A to Z novel. The multigenerational context and complex family dynamics add up to make every small moment so weighty. Its both a web and a many-sided die, and it’s crystal clear. It’s heartbreaking and funny and clever and wise. I keep raving about it and my BF asked me, what makes it so good? I just gave him tons of metaphors to try to explain why. It’s hard to explain.
Imagine growing up hating your brown skin, marrying the opposite so your children would not have to endure the hate you fought through. Living through a period of time when interracial marriage was not acceptable and was actually humiliating..... The story was at times hard to follow but worth finishing.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
I don't know if I just didn't really get this one but I felt like the shifting perspectives and timelines and focuses were just really hard to follow. I'm glad this was short because it was pretty hard to get through. Also there is a scene where the main character kicks a dog which is an automatic book ruiner for me.
The writing is poetic without being overdone. It tackles some big ideas including race and class in America and how it affects relationships with people we love.
he Professor's Daughter is Emma Boudreaux, a young woman who is struggling with the loss of her older "spiritual twin" brother, Bernie (Bernard Boudreaux III), who dies after a brief coma following a freak accident. Emma has long been a victim of physical and emotional abandonment from her father, the world renowned Yale professor, Bernard Boudreaux II, but her brother's death seems to exacerbate her "condition" and pushes her over the edge.
Emma's "condition" is that of self-doubt originally stemming from her ethnicity (her father is African American, her mother Caucasian) and the struggles of trying to fit into a world that is largely black or white. She leans heavily on her brother as her strength during the early childhood years when she is taunted by other children. She becomes somewhat of a recluse, excelling academically while learning to "disappear" or become "invisible" in order to avoid the negative attention her physical appearance seems to attract. But this is not merely a tale of the tragic mulatto - it goes deeper - and Raboteau's beckoning style sets the tone perfectly.
There's an expression, "the fruit does not fall far from the tree," and although Emma was somewhat of an enigma, I found the professor's character more intriguing and complex. Within him lies inner struggles and conflict that were seemingly inherited by his son with residual turmoil passed to Emma. The professor is a brilliant man with violent and poor roots originating in the Mississippi Delta. He is very secretive and guarded about his family history. It is in his recollections that we learn he was orphaned at an early age by a traumatic event that led his mother to madness and his father to an untimely death. His journey from the poor house to the white tower is fraught with discrimination, abuse, humiliation, and loneliness. He blocks the memories of his painful childhood with disastrous results - his unresolved issues affect his life and children in a most profound manner.
The novel is partly narrated by Emma recapping her life in a series of recollections. She reminisces about past lovers, her childhood, her college years, her self-imposed sabbatical to Brazil - complete with all the drama, longing, misery, and heartbreak that come with searching for oneself and trying to uncover the "mystery" behind her grandfather's (Bernard I) passing. Raboteau takes interesting tangents along the way - cleverly supplementing the novel with Ethiopian and Sioux folklore that makes the story even more enchanting in an unconventional kind of way. I will admit that this novel is not for everyone; however, I enjoyed it from its opening passages. I found it to be perfectly paced and very well written.
IQ "People have said of Fran that she has classic American good looks. Nobody has ever thought to say that of me, even though I wouldn't have resulted anywhere else" Emma, 267
It's not the lack of plot that bothered me but the random bits of information thrown in that didn't add much to the narrative. Bits such as how grown up Tiny felt, the White Buffalo Woman (I completely acknowledge I may be too dense to have understood the symbolism of this tale) and the short story Emma wrote for her professor. The overall story jumped all over the place which makes me think it would have been better off serving as a collection of short stories. I also was hoping this would serve to be different from the usual 'confused biracial protagonist' type story but it didn't really, she's confused about who she is. I ended up being more interested in the father than in Emma who I found to be tiresome (especially in her treatment of her mother). Emma's father has always been different; from his club foot (which I'm not entirely sure I understood how he got) to receiving a scholarship to attend a Catholic boys boarding school where he is the only Black student. I wanted to know what happened to him at college, why he married Emma's mother and what happened to the rest of his family that we were briefly introduced to.
Like her father Emma is also marked, she has a rash for most of her life, prominent on half of her face. Through the rash and the elegant prose the author makes it clear why Emma felt so lonely as child and this held my interest but it's when she grows into adulthood my interest waned. The Bernies were intriguing, but not much time was spent on the difficulties of having a brother as a vegetable in realistic terms, it was more about feelings. Which I understand but I wish it had also been practical since it is such a hard decision to pull the plug and delved into that struggle (or explained why it was an easy decision one way or the other. Was the father involved?). That being said she did make astute observations about being Black; "And this is really what makes you black in the eyes of others. It's not the bubble of your mouth, the blood in your veins, the blackness of your skin or the Bantu of your butt. It ain't your black-eyed peas and greens. It's not the rhythm or your blues or your rage or your pride. It's your hair. The kink and curl of it, loose or tight, so so long as it resembles an afro" (2). Identity is always a hot topic for novels and while I didn't find the overall story wholly original, the loosely connected stories were interesting and the author is wonderful with her prose. "Language isn't equipped for the range and complexity of human trouble. It doesn't have enough music in it" (260).
I would describe this book as interesting, beautifully vivid and sort of disjointed and fragmented. Raboteau tells the story of a family, the Boudreauxs, through the eyes of its protagonist, Emma Boudreaux. It is a story of identity, but also family as provided with glimpses of the past and through the experiences of Emma's parents.
The novel begins with the relationship of Emma to her "twin brother," Bernie and progresses with the childhood stories of her father, her parents relationship, family friends etc.
Raboteau's descriptions are vivid, often beautiful. Her writing is delicate, yet candid.
The novel sometimes feels disjointed, even fragmented, but not in a bad way. It reads somewhat like a collection of linked short stories.
I wouldn't say the ending of the novel was abrupt, but I felt like there could have been more. I don't feel like we really know Emma, or that she even knows herself. I feel like the ending was very open-ended, at least for me.
I'd be interested in reading future works by this writer.
This was an intelligently written first novel. The characters were real and personably. You as a reader could relate to the problems, concern, trials, tribulations, and drama this family endured. The author let the reader follow the lives of this family from the great-great-great grandparents to the present. The story of the great-great-great grandparents was of hardship and pain. But, the legacy lived on in their great-great-great grandkids.
Life Lesson: We all must find our place in life for God to take over.
it was shelved in the teen section, but isn't a teen book in my opinion. not that it's unsuitable for teen readers, but it's missing the tone I associate with YA novels (I am working out my theories on what this actually is). Not sure what to make of this - troubled family, biracial children, family history of racism and lynching, slightly mystical older brother with whom the narrator (Emma) has a slightly creepy relationship - if not creepy, then perhaps overly-dependent? Raboteau is a good writer for sure, but this book felt like it was trying to do too many things, tell too many stories, and thus didn't do any of them as well as it could have.
The first 30 or so pages, I was terribly confused, because chapters switch points of view and are non-linear(hence 4 instead of 5 stars). But I promise, promise, promise this book is more than worth your time. By the end, I knew she was a genius.
This is a tough book to review, because I loved it so much that I'm way too concerned and invested in trying to convince everyone I know to read it. So just go ahead and do that for me okay, because it will be a decision that will make you happy and one you won't regret.
This is beautifully written, and I had a hard time putting it down, although a few parts were horrifying and sad. Some of the stories about race and discrimination were eye-opening.
I couldn't help wondering how much of this was autobiographical (while looking at the author's photo on the dust jacket), and thinking how very sad for Raboteau if that were true.
One minor quibble - a character dies in a way that I saw rebutted on Mythbusters recently. Damn Adam & Jamie for ruining the narrative flow of an amazing story!
This is the best novel I've read in years. Raboteau's writing is lyrical and thoughtful, and she lays out her story with deliberateness and whimsy. While the events are at times heartbreaking, Raboteau refuses to let her language or characters wallow in pathos. Her style is smart and engaging, and you can feel the energy and everyday humor of real life humming through this book. A real gem that I can't wait to recommend and discuss.
This book seemed like it would be good... but it didn't make sense. The main storyline was interesting but there were other random parts and little chapters that didn't make sense. I read the entire book assuming things would all come together... but they didn't. This book was terrible. Do not read it.
Mixed race family with kids whose skin colors are different, one looks white, one looks black. There's a great scene where the white-looking girl is approached from behind by a black boy trying to mug her in New Haven. Similar themes in Caucasia, by Danzy Senna.
an interesting look at race relations, family, and the way different experiences along the way form who we are. i appreciated getting to know the internal lives of different characters, especially after i already thought i knew them. some of the more metaphysical pieces, however, lost me.
Bernie-ism 15.2: That mess about judging people by the content of their character and not the color of their skin –that's some bullshit. Nobody has the right to judge anybody else. Period. If you ain't been in my skin, you ain't never gonna understand my character.
I like it a lot if you read it as a series of stories or as a metanarrative about the author's search for her own identity. I have a few more qualms if it's actually supposed to hold together as a novel, but I'm okay with that.
The book would have been better as a collection of short stories. The thread usd to pull the stories togetherwas weak. I enjoyed the book, but didn't care for the ending.