Book Review: Trumpet by Jackie Kay


I’m a book addict. I formed the habit young, and it’s still my best and primary tool for understanding myself and the world I live in (or wished I lived in). I’ve always had a rough go at writing about books, in part because I feel like I’ll reveal that I’m not smart enough to really grasp the nuances, and also because it feels like starting to deconstruct a book ruins it in some ways. I hated writing book reports when I was a kid, and I frustrated my literature professors in college by being able to talk about books breathlessly and eloquently (or at least coherently) but not being able to put together a meaningful written analysis of anything.

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