This is one of those books where you know it’s fiction because the events seem too fantastical to ever happen in real life. Only this is an autobiography, not a novel. There are numerous events in the novel which will stick with me for the rest of my life; I was constantly stopping reading to look up and tell my husband, “Oh, my gosh, you won’t believe this!”

I very much enjoyed Maya Angelou’s native style; I was familiar with her poetry, which is marvelous, but unfamiliar with her prose, which I found to be equally as engaging. 

The author did a phenomenal job showing the inner workings of a child’s mind. As awful things happen to the author, the reader can simultaneously feel the innocence and confusion of a child and the cynicism and pity of an adult. It’s a tightrope that Maya Angelou walks perfectly, allowing a full experience for the reader – getting lost in the story itself while allowing for extended thought later. 

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