I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings – Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou's “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings” is undeniably a cornerstone of American literature — a raw and powerful account of Black womanhood in an era of overt adversity against her race and sex. 

This is a classic for a reason. Nothing I say about this novel will diminish its relevance, but I must be honest with myself and others when I say that I didn’t really enjoy it. 

Okay, sure, it’s difficult to “enjoy” a novel that features child rape and racism, but the subject matter isn’t why I couldn’t connect with the story, it was because of the storytelling itself. 

I recognize this is a somewhat blasphemous “hot take” for such a lauded woman of letters, but one must also consider that “Bird” was her debut and those are usually flawed gems. This is no exception.

Angelou's poetic prose, while captivating, often overpowers the narrative, creating a disjointed and meandering pace. Each chapter is essentially an interlude with little connecting thread, making the frequent shifts in time, place and characters difficult to follow.

The audiobook likely exacerbated these issues, with Angelou frequently stumbling over her own intricate wordplay. What began as an intimate, conversational tone devolved into a laborious recitation.

Still, her unflinching honesty is both courageous and inspiring. Her ability to evoke laughter and tears on the same page is a testament to her extraordinary talent — especially as a poet.  

While I’m glad to have read this, and firmly believe it is a book that should be read and studied — it is unfortunately one of the most challenged books in the U.S. today — I’m not planning to continue on her autobiographical journey. 

Maybe I’ll read a book of her poetry one day, but in the meantime I’ll explore similar themes of identity through her contemporary and friend James Baldwin, whose writing style is a closer match to my sensibilities. 

Rating (story): 3/5 stars

Rating (narration): 3/5 stars

Format: Audiobook (library loan)

Dates read: August 2 – August 7, 2024

Multi-tasking: Not recommended. The narration is surprisingly difficult to follow given Angelou’s sometimes stilted delivery and the extraneous prose.