A classic in American literature, one I first read years ago as a freshman in high school. I remember appreciating it then, but thinking it was a bit boring (a 14-year-old's opinion, on a book being taught in high school English class). Re-reading gave me a much better appreciation of it, and of Angelou as a writer.

The story meanders a bit, but ultimately heads us in a single direction. And during that meandering Angelou shows us what an exceptional writer she is and her ability to write different styles of story. (One of the chapters is basically a ghost story.)

As I got towards the end of the book, I began to see what 14-year-old me was thinking, in that it slows down a bit, and it took me a while to get through the last 100 pages. But overall a really good book by an American icon. ( )

Non so perché a quest’edizione Frassinelli sia stato dato questo titolo, visto che stiamo parlando di I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, riportato fedelmente nella nostra lingua dalla nuova edizione BEAT (che propone, tra l’altro, la stessa traduzione che ho letto io), Io so perché canta l'uccello in gabbia. Oltretutto, stiamo parlando di un titolo che è un verso tratto da Sympathy di Paul Laurence Dunbar, quindi i motivi della decisione della CE italiana mi rimangono oscuri…

In ogni caso, quale che sia il titolo dell’edizione che riuscirete a procurarvi, vi consiglio caldamente di leggere questo romanzo, con l’avvertenza che contiene una delle scene di stupro più terrificanti che abbia letto nella mia vita.

Il canto del silenzio è un romanzo autobiografico e di formazione che ci racconta quante difficoltà aggiuntive possa incontrare una giovane donna nera nel percorso per diventare adulta. È un libro sugli assurdi privilegi dei bianchi, degli uomini, dei ricchi e di come le persone che non godono di certi vantaggi portino in sé i semi capaci di portarle a rivendicare il proprio spazio.

Se crescere è doloroso per una bambina nera del Sud, rendersi conto di essere fuori posto è la ruggine sul rasoio puntato alla gola.
È un insulto superfluo. ( )

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings is the 1969 autobiography of her early years by American author-poet Maya Angelou. This is a powerful coming of age story that covers her life from age three to eighteen, ending with the birth of her son. The author details some of her struggles with both racism and misogyny and she explains how the love of literature, her strength of character and her eventual acceptance and embracing of black culture allowed her to move forward and feel empowered.

Most of her growing years were spent in the small segregated town of Stamps, Arkansas under the care of her paternal grandmother who implanted a strict moral code. They are taught to avoid contact with white people and stick to their own kind but nevertheless there were some racist incidents. When she and her brother were sent to live with their mother in St. Louis, eight year old Maya is raped by her mother’s boyfriend, another trauma for her to overcome.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings is considered a classic of African-American writing as her story shines a light not just on her race and gender but many other aspects as well. She wasn’t afraid of showing that at times she was confused, uncertain and naive which in turn, allowed me to see her as a real person and become invested in her childhood journey. ( )

I'm glad I finally read this book. ( )

I place autobiographies with the author's place of birth, which Maya, birth name Marguerite Johnson, was born in St. Louis, Missouri, on 4 April 1928. But in this book, Maya begins her story at age 3 in Stamps, Arkansas.

Wow! Be sure to watch the short 22 minute video on Maya Angelou's Goodreads page before reading this book. You will get a great feel for her voice and true character. She revisits Stamps, Arkansas. After her parent's divorce, her father shipped her and her brother, Bailey, on a freight train all alone from California to Stamps, Arkansas, to live for the next 10 years with their grandmother who they would call Momma. She was 3-1/2 years old; Bailey was 4.

They lived in the back of the only black store in Stamps, the Wm. Johnson General Store, pictured in the video, which her grandmother owned and ran for 25 years. This was the hub of east Stamps and the safest place for Maya. They rarely crossed the railroad tracks that separated the whites from the blacks. They were so segregated that most black children didn't know what a real white person even looked like. They only heard about them. Only twice a year would their grandmother give Bailey and Maya money to cross the tracks for meat, usually liver, for the dinner table.

Her brother, Bailey, was the pride of the Henderson/Johnson family. He was everything Maya wasn't. Maya frequently got picked on about her ugliness, even from among her own black people. Bailey was the one to give Maya her name when they were little. He would never call her Marguerite. He would always say, Mya Sister. As time went by her name became "Maya".

It's interesting that the poor working people of Stamps didn't feel the Great Depression for two years because they were already so poor and lived off the land. It wasn't until the price of cotton they sold dropped so low, from ten cents to five cents a pound of cotton that they realized the Great Depression wasn't just for white folks.

Her father showed up one day from California, picked up the kids and drove them straight to St. Louis to see their mother, who was, in Maya's eyes, too beautiful to have children. But, here in St. Louis, they lived and learned more of the rough nightlife of their mother and her mother's wild and loud family. They were a mean bunch and her white German Grandmother Baxter married into the black world and had a lot of pull with the policeman, and with the lowest of criminals. They lived with their Baxter grandparents for a while then moved in with their mother and her boyfriend who ended up raping her when she was 7-1/2 years old. This is when she became mute. Maya stopped talking. They were only in St. Louis one year before being shipped back to Stamps, Arkansas, on a train. The town people gathered around them with questions about the north, and treated them like they were great travellers. The blacks there in Stamps couldn't understand how people made their money if they didn't grow cotton. Her brother, Bailey, played it up while she remained mute. Maya didn't like St. Louis as much as she didn't like Stamps. In her mind, these were only temporary homes.

She later goes to visit her dad and his live-in girlfriend in California. What a wild ride. He brings her into Mexico where he disappears at times for drinks, drugs and a romp in the sack with a Mexican gal. He was so wasted, and at age 15 with no driving experience, she had to drive them back across the border into California. It really was a miracle she made it through those growing years and became the person we all grew to love and admire.

Maya writes: "The needs of a society determines its ethics." She might be right about that, just take a look around us.

She died at age 86 on 28 May 2014 in
Winston-Salem, North Carolina. ( )