4.5★
I began reading this as a memoir rather than a series of separate essays, and I think that was my mistake, not the author’s. There’s not a defined timeline from childhood through adolescence and beyond, so I sometimes wasn’t sure how old he was when certain incidents happened.

As it turns out, it doesn’t really matter. This is a difficult story for me, a privileged, Western, white woman, to read about a desperately poor black woman, reduced in her own childhood to eating “dirt” (clay stirred into water to fill her up) who has the strongest spirit I’ve probably every come across. Trevor Noah’s mother.

A Xhosa woman, (looked down on as “a prostitute” by other African tribes), had an illegal relationship with a white Swiss man and announced she wanted a baby. She knew it would be a colored child (the lowest of the low, belonging to nobody), but she was prepared.

“Children could be taken. Children were taken. The wrong color kid in the wrong color area, and the government could come in, strip your parents of custody, haul you off to an orphanage.”

His father agreed to a baby for her, and although they separated, he stayed in touch with his son, although Trevor had to track him down once. I make a point of this, because Trevor didn’t belong anywhere, but his father certainly loved him.

“When it was time to pick my name, she chose Trevor, a name with no meaning whatsoever in South Africa, no precedent in my family. It’s not even a Biblical name. It’s just a name. My mother wanted her child beholden to no fate. She wanted me to be free to go anywhere, do anything, be anyone.”

Apartheid Africa was crazy. Sadly, not unbelievable, but still crazy. Growing up, Trevor looked like nobody else, so nobody knew quite how to treat him.

Classification was ridiculous:

" Those tribes and other nonwhites were systematically classified into various groups and subgroups. Then these groups were given different levels of rights and privileges in order to keep them at odds."
. . .

" So Japanese people were given honorary white status while Chinese people stayed black."

He imagines a cop saying:

“Hey, get off that bench, you Chinaman!” “Excuse me. I’m Japanese.” “Oh, I apologize, sir. I didn’t mean to be racist. Have a lovely afternoon.”
. . .

"The legal definition of a white person under apartheid was 'one who in appearance is obviously a white person who is generally not accepted as a coloured person; or is generally accepted as a white person and is not in appearance obviously a white person.' It was completely arbitrary, in other words."

Trevor identified as black, growing up with his mother in a black area, but he was stared at and singled out and avoided at school.

Some coloreds might apply to be white, but it was up to the person at the desk on the day to have a look at you and try, among other things

". . . the pencil test. If you were applying to be white, the pencil went into your hair. If it fell out, you were white. If it stayed in, you were colored. You were what the government said you were."

and if successful

"you’d be reclassified as white. All you had to do was denounce your people, denounce your history, and leave your darker-skinned friends and family behind."

He was an amazing kid who got up to terrible mischief but who made his way thought high school by being such a quick runner that he made it to the lunch counter first every day and was paid to take orders for other, slower kids.

He’s also multi-lingual, which has served him well, especially considering how many people in the same country don’t speak each other’s languages. He explains why it matters so much.

"Nelson Mandela once said, 'If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his language, that goes to his heart.' "

He says whether speaking to a classmate, a person in a shop (or a fellow prisoner, at one point!), if he used the person’s own language, he is effectively saying:

“I understand that you have a culture and identity that exists beyond me. I see you as a human being.”

[I couldn't agree more. Sadly, I have found both Americans (U.S.) and Australians to be notoriously lacking in enthusiasm for speaking other languages. I like to say that the U.S. considers itself the 'default' country, with its .com and no country suffix, but that's another story.]

Running, talking, and then figuring out how to sell pirated CDs, mix tracks, and DJ for parties, he was a busy guy. His drunk, deadly stepfather just added to the pressure of poverty.

It’s hard to imagine how far he’s come, thanks to his passionate, strong-willed, extremely religious mother who broke every rule in the book by teaching herself to work in offices (unheard of) and making sure Trevor had every chance to improve his lot.

That, he has most certainly done! A story well worth reading even if he’d never become such a public figure. I haven't touched on any of his escapades, his friends, his actual life, so you need to read this for yourself.

Thanks to NetGalley and Random House for the preview copy from which I’ve quoted. Quotations may have changed, but I’m sure the sentiment hasn’t.

You can find him on his own website trevornoah.com or follow him on The Daily Show on TV.

In the memoir Born a Crime, readers are brought into the early years of Trevor Noah, the popular comedian and host of The Daily Show. We learn of his childhood as a biracial boy living in Apartheid South Africa.

Trevor to a white Swiss father an a black Xhosa mother at a time in South Africa where a biracial relationship could put someone in jail for years at a time. His mother is an absolute spitfire, standing up for herself and her family in the face of oppression and stigma. She met her match with Trevor, as he is a total troublemaker (with a heart of gold at the end of the day). For the beginning of his life, he was mostly kept indoors, away from the eyes of prying neighbors and law enforcement. But once the tyrannical rule of their country ended, she refused to keep him isolated and restricted based on his race or hers, living in a “white” area and taking him to places that are often reserved for people of a different race.

This memoir is comprised of eighteen personal essays, ranging from the details of his experience of violence in the home at the hands of a stepfather, to selling bootleg CDs during his teenage years, to accidentally being kidnapped with his mother and jumping out of the moving car to run to safety. No matter what hardship or trouble faced him, Trevor Noah writes about it with a raw honesty and charming humor that proves exactly why he is so successful in the entertainment industry today.

I really enjoyed reading this memoir and getting to understand Trevor Noah’s upbringing. I laughed, I teared up, and I found myself having a hard time putting it down. That being said, some of the essays were a little disjointed and made it a little hard to focus at times. But overall, it was a great read.

4 STARS!

Note: I was given an ARC of this book from the publisher. This is an honest review and all opinions are my own.

An amazing read! I cannot recommend this enough. It is hilarious, heart-wrenching, and informative. Most importantly, Noah's unique voice shines in each of these anecdotes. A must read!

Thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for an eARC of this book.
Treavor Noah, host of "The Daily Show", talks about his life growing up in South Africa
during apartheid. His very birth was a crime since his mother was black and his father
was white. The book describes many fascinating details about life in South Africa during
and post apartheid. It is really a series of anecdotes strung together in stories...not always
cohesive and sometimes repetitive, it is nonetheless compelling and maintains ones interest.
I think the audio with Trevor Noah reading would be even better.

A surprisingly educational look at apartheid from the perspective of modern day cultural icon. Heartfelt, funny and relatable, Trevor Noah's candor and transparency mark this premiere memoir as a must-read.