Maya Angelou’s Poetic Prose Resonates In Book Of Essays Few Pieces In Collection Offer Deep Insight Of Writer’s Previous Works
“Even The Stars Look Lonesome” By Maya Angelou (Random House, 145 pages, $18)
I came to this book as many fans of Maya Angelou might: with respect for her as an artist, a woman, a writer, a friend of Oprah’s.
I finished with the wrinkled brow of one expecting a meal, and having to settle for a snack.
“Even the Stars Look Lonesome” is a collection of short essays - very short, some only a page and a half. Few of the essays, though beautifully written, offer the deep, sometimes soul-touching, insights of her previous works.
In her first essay, she tells how bad vibes from a house ruined her marriage. She states it with such fervor that readers may really believe a house can have that effect on a relationship. It might have been more honest to say that a change in feelings, lack of passion, and inattention to the marriage might have more impact than an untuned piano and curtains that don’t stay on the rods. But perhaps it wouldn’t have made for intriguing prose.
Another deals with her vacation in Mexico and watching other tourists pay to paint clay vases and bric-a-brac. She laughed at how they were squandering their hard-earned vacation time. Her response? She went to her room, unpacked paper, pens, dictionary and thesaurus and sat down “and took three days of my vacation to write this essay.”
She should have gone to the beach.
Still, the book does contain bits of her own view of life and love and aging and sex among the aging. Her humorous recollection of a phone conversation in which she encourages her stepfather to tend to her mother’s sexual needs gives hope to all those who worry about sexual ardor decreasing as the years pass.
In this collection, Angelou pays tribute to her friend Oprah Winfrey, describing her as an “honest, hardworking woman who has developed an unusual degree of empathy and courage.” It’s only fitting; the two belong to a mutual admiration society that benefits both.
As in earlier works, she uses life events to strike a chord of recognition with readers. Even her adversities (of which she’s had many) have their use.
She left her mother’s house as an unmarried 17-year-old with an infant son. Often, after she had fallen on her face, she’d return to her mother “to be reminded by her that although I had to compromise with life, even life had no right to beat me to the ground, to batter my teeth down my throat, to make me knuckle down and call it Uncle. My mother raised me and then freed me.”
Angelou explains why she supported Clarence Thomas’ nomination to the Supreme Court, saying that despite his conservatism, he is intelligent, well-trained, black and “young enough to be won over again. …”
Basically, this book is for those who want a complete set of Angelou’s works. If you have been living in a cave somewhere for the past decade or so and are unfamiliar with her works, don’t use this book as an introduction. Instead, read “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings” or her other autobiographical works. Read her poetry - “And Still I Rise,” for example - which is strong, evocative and moving.
Angelou is strongest in those instances. This slim collection seems to suggest that she believes that she must speak with wisdom and insight - and then publish it - even about situations that contain little scope for wisdom and have little opportunity for insight.
Still, there are times when her insight and writing are right on the money. When she speaks of returning home after time on the road, she strikes a chord that should resonate for all.
“When I am on a plane and the pilot announces, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into North Carolina,’ my burdens lift, my heart is at ease, and a smile finds its way all the way across my face. I know that soon I will be in a car that will stop on a quiet street in Winston-Salem, and I will step out and be home again.”
That is prime Angelou, conjuring the simple but human emotions that most people feel but don’t know how to say.