I actually have a lot of thoughts on this one, in a way I haven't had about a book in a while, so please bear with me while I try to get my thoughts in order.

I read Evaristo's Girl, woman, other a few months ago and I absolutely adored it. I simply fell in love with it, its characters, and especially Evaristo's writing. Even though I read it in translation, it was clear to me that the novel was written in a poetic, almost magical way. So, of course, I was delighted to receive an ARC for this.

At this point, I have to admit that I really struggled to get into this book. Because, while Girl, woman, other showcased some of the most phenomenal, most exceptional writing I had seen recently, Manifesto just felt a bit sloppy - especially in comparison. The first few chapters especially made me question if the book was going to go through another round of editing before being finalized and published. The writing was a bit all over the place, but not in a whimsical, let-it-consume-you way; just sloppy.

It did, however, get better, to the point where the last two chapters were simply wonderful. When she starts talking about her actual writing and writing processes, how involved she's been in the publishing world for decades now, and how she writes - or rewrites - her stories, it all falls into place. It was wonderful to sneak a peek inside a writer's world in this way, being allowed to see behind all the magic and mystique of a published, final manuscript.

That being said, I also did, at times, struggle with some of her more personal views and opinions. For instance, when talking about a toxic relationship she herself had experienced, she also talks about allowing herself to be in that situation, or allowing the other person that sort of power over her. I get what she was trying to say - I think - but I do feel uncomfortable with the use of the word "allow" and I think her point could have been expressed in a different way. She also says that homosexual tendencies are latent within everyone, which I again disagree with, as - to me- it is a stance that trivializes queer identities. Even in her last chapter, when she talks about having conversations instead of rioting or shouting at people, I think she could have gotten her point across in a way that honours those who have rioted, because that is all they could have done, all the outlets they had access to. I think that it is important to recognize, especially as a very popular author, that certain people or groups are, in fact, so marginalized, that simply having a conversation is not possible, that being in a place and time that allows for fruitful conversation is, indeed, a privilege. Now, I am not saying she is necessarily wrong and I am not saying that she is disrespectful; I recognize that experiences vary between individuals, so these are just two points where we two clash as people.

Apart from that, it was quite an enjoyable read, with many interesting points and tales. Definitely worth a read, even if only for those last two chapters.

** An ARC was provided via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review. **

I received a copy of this book through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

This is a beautiful read.

Evaristo walks us through her life through personal essays and stories.

She talks about growing up in England as a Black woman and a lesbian. She shares stories of her family, her parents, and her relationships. She also talks about her writing and her determination and what has kept her going. This is a read that's inspirational, informative, and fascinating read. I liked getting to peak into Evaristo's life and her experiences.

A vibrant account about the background of the writer, her path through life, love, the publishing industry and society at large. Evaristo her voice is as captivating as ever and her message is both important and uplifting.
At nineteen I was already determined to lead an alternative live. Having grown up in an unconventional household, I learned to wear my outsider status with pride.

In Manifesto: On Never Giving Up 2019 Booker prize winner Bernardine Evaristo tells her personal tale. Her childhood, growing up in a family with 8 children and her the middle child, with a white mother and an authoritative father from Nigeria, encompasses the first chapter. We get to know that her Yoruba first name is Mobalaji, and how the values of her father, being a Labour councilor, and her mother who was a kindhearted schoolteacher, shaped her.
The 12 rooms home where she grew up made me think of the Weasley's Burrow, but the fact that the windows were often thrown in, make the image less idyllic. Class, racism and sexism permeate the book, for instance the razor sharp memory of a schoolmate coming to Bernardine gleefully with the statistic that 75% of the student body wouldn’t want to live besides a colored family.
About sowing her own clothes in the last classes of high school, making her a stand out appearance, she writes: Rather like the plays and books would someday write, I decided to create the things I convinced myself I needed to have in life.
Also endearing is her quoting from 55 year old school rapports, that already show her character clearly.

From a crowded home Bernardine moves out, struggling part time jobs and moving from decrepit home to attics till her forties (I wasn’t tied to a mortgage, but I was at the mercy of landlords). But also her real calling comes into the picture: Writing became a room of my own; writing became my permanent home.

Evaristo talks frankly about her love life (I had spent the relationship in longing, and I believed that to be in longing was to be in love), swinging from men to women to men again. The relationship she describes with the twice as old "the mental dominatrix" is familiar to anyone who read the first few chapters of Girl, Woman, Other.
The ending to this relationship was cathartic and empowering for the author nearing her thirties: There was no guilt because a violent person doesn’t deserve loyalty and How many times do we beat ourselves up when we’re the ones being treated unfairly?

Her writing kicks off with poetry, which I was unaware of. The description of the making process of her books makes me want to add all her work to my want to read, including I think hard to find Lara, but excluding Soul Tourists that Evaristo describes in a very honest manner.
The importance of resilience and carving out one's own space is very clear from her story. As a positivity propagandist, Bernardine believes in manifesting once thoughts, thinking of the best possible outcome, and she recalls that when using this method with her first fiction novel that she dreamt of winning the Booker Prize already. Winning it at 60, with a catalogue of works to discover for readers is a treat.

Nowhere is this a gloom or preachy book, despite the struggle and heavy subjected interlaced with the career of Evaristo. Even a recent anecdote, of the writer being invited to an Ivy League college, including housing, leading to a cop standing at her door, since a published resident writer couldn’t be a black woman apparently, is brought with the characteristic Evaristo humor, while pointing out the absurdity of the situation.
I highly enjoyed this book and found it an inspiring read from one of the most distinct recent Booker Prize winners.