Analysis Of Brown Girl Dreaming

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The Breathtaking Brown Girl Dreaming
Initially when I began Jacqueline Woodson 's Brown Girl Dreaming I wasn 't convinced her choice of writing style was for me. I didn 't fully grasp how an autobiography could be written in verse and still flow like a narrative. However, Woodson laid to rest any concerns or doubts I may have had prior to starting this delightful novel. I have never been one to avidly seek out memoirs; I get bored with them after only just beginning them. Brown Girl Dreaming is a marvelous exception. It didn 't bore me in the slightest and in fact, I found it a quick and easy read overall.
Writing style aside, the content that Woodson touched on throughout her memoir reads like a well done narrative. One of my personal
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We already have one of those (19).
This is so comical to me on so many levels. I love how it showcases how innocent children are. It also reminded me of what I 've been told about when my parents brought me home from the hospital. Apparently, I cried. A lot. So, when I was taken in for my first check up the doctor asked my then four year old brother what he thought about his new sister he replied with, "I wanna trade her for a mule."
When Woodson touches on her parents separating, I wasn 't honestly surprised. From how their relationship is described in the novel it was apparent that they were not seeing eye to eye with one another. The thing that did throw me for a loop is when her mother decided to leave them with their grandmother while she goes to New York in search of a job and a place for them all to live,
After my mother leaves, my grandmother pulls us further
Into the religion she has always known.
We become Jehovah 's Witnesses
Like her.
After my mother leaves there is no one to say,
The children can choose their own
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But we do not know yet
Who we are fighting
And what we are fighting for (112).
I began to get the oddest suspicion that their mother wasn 't going to come back for them after all.
A them that seemed to fit really well into Woodson 's verse style was her way with how she plays on words; and the hidden meaning in so much. For example, my favorite poem in the entire novel is about half way in, when Jacqueline Woodson talks about those blasted ribbons she and her sister have so grown tiresome of,
They are pale blue or pink or white.
They are neatly ironed each Saturday night.
Come Sunday morning, they are tied to the braids hanging down past our ears.
We wear ribbons every day except Saturday
When we wash them by hand, Dell and I
Side by side at the kitchen sink,
Rubbing them with Ivory soap then rinsing them
Beneath cool water.
Each of us
Dreaming of the day our grandmother says
You 're too old for ribbons.
But it feels like that day will never come (121).
Come on, I think everyone at one point has hated an object like

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