How to Say Babylon: A Memoir
National Book Critics Circle Award Winner
A New York Times Notable Book
A Read with Jenna Today Show Book Club Pick!
A Best Book of 2023 by the New York Times, Time, The Washington Post, Vulture, Shelf Awareness, Goodreads, Esquire, The Atlantic, NPR, and Barack Obama
With echoes of Educated and Born a Crime, How to Say Babylon is the stunning story of the author’s struggle to break free of her rigid Rastafarian upbringing, ruled by her father’s strict patriarchal views and repressive control of her childhood, to find her own voice as a woman and poet.
Throughout her childhood, Safiya Sinclair’s father, a volatile reggae musician and militant adherent to a strict sect of Rastafari, became obsessed with her purity, in particular, with the threat of what Rastas call Babylon, the immoral and corrupting influences of the Western world outside their home. He worried that womanhood would make Safiya and her sisters morally weak and impure, and believed a woman’s highest virtue was her obedience.
In an effort to keep Babylon outside the gate, he forbade almost everything. In place of pants, the women in her family were made to wear long skirts and dresses to cover their arms and legs, head wraps to cover their hair, no make-up, no jewelry, no opinions, no friends. Safiya’s mother, while loyal to her father, nonetheless gave Safiya and her siblings the gift of books, including poetry, to which Safiya latched on for dear life. And as Safiya watched her mother struggle voicelessly for years under housework and the rigidity of her father’s beliefs, she increasingly used her education as a sharp tool with which to find her voice and break free. Inevitably, with her rebellion comes clashes with her father, whose rage and paranoia explodes in increasing violence. As Safiya’s voice grows, lyrically and poetically, a collision course is set between them.
How to Say Babylon is Sinclair’s reckoning with the culture that initially nourished but ultimately sought to silence her; it is her reckoning with patriarchy and tradition, and the legacy of colonialism in Jamaica. Rich in lyricism and language only a poet could evoke, How to Say Babylon is both a universal story of a woman finding her own power and a unique glimpse into a rarefied world we may know how to name, Rastafari, but one we know little about.
A New York Times Notable Book
A Read with Jenna Today Show Book Club Pick!
A Best Book of 2023 by the New York Times, Time, The Washington Post, Vulture, Shelf Awareness, Goodreads, Esquire, The Atlantic, NPR, and Barack Obama
With echoes of Educated and Born a Crime, How to Say Babylon is the stunning story of the author’s struggle to break free of her rigid Rastafarian upbringing, ruled by her father’s strict patriarchal views and repressive control of her childhood, to find her own voice as a woman and poet.
Throughout her childhood, Safiya Sinclair’s father, a volatile reggae musician and militant adherent to a strict sect of Rastafari, became obsessed with her purity, in particular, with the threat of what Rastas call Babylon, the immoral and corrupting influences of the Western world outside their home. He worried that womanhood would make Safiya and her sisters morally weak and impure, and believed a woman’s highest virtue was her obedience.
In an effort to keep Babylon outside the gate, he forbade almost everything. In place of pants, the women in her family were made to wear long skirts and dresses to cover their arms and legs, head wraps to cover their hair, no make-up, no jewelry, no opinions, no friends. Safiya’s mother, while loyal to her father, nonetheless gave Safiya and her siblings the gift of books, including poetry, to which Safiya latched on for dear life. And as Safiya watched her mother struggle voicelessly for years under housework and the rigidity of her father’s beliefs, she increasingly used her education as a sharp tool with which to find her voice and break free. Inevitably, with her rebellion comes clashes with her father, whose rage and paranoia explodes in increasing violence. As Safiya’s voice grows, lyrically and poetically, a collision course is set between them.
How to Say Babylon is Sinclair’s reckoning with the culture that initially nourished but ultimately sought to silence her; it is her reckoning with patriarchy and tradition, and the legacy of colonialism in Jamaica. Rich in lyricism and language only a poet could evoke, How to Say Babylon is both a universal story of a woman finding her own power and a unique glimpse into a rarefied world we may know how to name, Rastafari, but one we know little about.
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Community Reviews
"How to Say Babylon" was our first book club read and it was absolutely incredible. I learned so much about the Rastafarian community and the vibrant landscape of Jamaica.
Safiya Sinclair’s story is one of immense strength and resilience. Her journey to reinvent herself and find happiness in what she loves is both inspiring and moving. Her talent shines through every page, making this book a captivating read from start to finish.
There’s so much to unpack here, and I’m thrilled we chose this as our inaugural book. It’s not just a read; it’s an experience that stays with you. Highly recommended!
4/5
I find it tricky to cast judgement on a memoir. How can I sit here and judge what happens when it's not just plot but someone's actual life and experience, it feels voyeuristic. At the same time the author is handing me their life on a platter, is asking me to come and see and experience. In How to Say Babylon Safiya Sinclair presents us the story of her life growing up in Jamaica under the control of a domineering abusive father who used Rastafarianism to control and terrorize the family. We're taken on this journey to her childhood, her struggles and how she persevered and became an award winning poet. She also explains what Rastafarianism is, how it got started, what are the practices and beliefs, and how that affected her.
I could not put this down, I read it in four days. The prose is beautiful and fluid, you could probably infer her background as a poet. If you don't enjoy purple prose, this might not be a good fit for you, for me it worked because I felt like I was right there in her head with her as the events happened. And boy did things happen to her, this is a book that deals with such complex and heart wrenching abuse. Verbal abuse, physical abuse, emotional abuse, spiritual abuse, at times it felt so heavy and anxiety inducing. I was at a roller coaster right before the drop, or a balloon inflating with no sign of stopping and then... Well the drop didn't happen, the balloon never popped.
That was my only real issue with the book. The pacing brught us to this dazzling height only to gently let us down. To me it felt like perhaps she could have waited to write this memoir, there were a lot of painful memories she had to face and put to paper and the more recent ones just didn't come across as robust as the past. By this I mean I felt like she's too close to the point in time where her book ends to have been able to pull it apart and analyze it, process it. There's a lot of silence at the end, like the story was cherry-picked in some spots. I'm obviously talking about her father. In a horribly distressing scene she depicts a night where he almost killed her, a night that traumatized her youngest sister and put her at odds with her older brother. And yet the book skips any meaningful conversation about this event, jumps right into her life in the USA and then into a reconciliation with her abuser. She spent the whole book painting this boogeyman, this dangerous figure that mistreated her and then did nothing to show the painful path towards forgiveness and personal growth. I don't want to speculate, but I do wonder if she has actually processed everything that happened, if she's been to therapy. It felt like she bent the knee after a full book of standing up for her younger self. As I said at the beginning, it's hard to judge people's personal choices from my outside point of view but after being so in her head and life the ending felt empty of the same fire.
After more than nineteen years, my father still could not see me. To him, nothing I wrote would ever matter. Poetry was the voice I had forged because for so long I had been voiceless; I had written every word because I wanted him to hear me. Now I knew he never would.
I find it tricky to cast judgement on a memoir. How can I sit here and judge what happens when it's not just plot but someone's actual life and experience, it feels voyeuristic. At the same time the author is handing me their life on a platter, is asking me to come and see and experience. In How to Say Babylon Safiya Sinclair presents us the story of her life growing up in Jamaica under the control of a domineering abusive father who used Rastafarianism to control and terrorize the family. We're taken on this journey to her childhood, her struggles and how she persevered and became an award winning poet. She also explains what Rastafarianism is, how it got started, what are the practices and beliefs, and how that affected her.
I could not put this down, I read it in four days. The prose is beautiful and fluid, you could probably infer her background as a poet. If you don't enjoy purple prose, this might not be a good fit for you, for me it worked because I felt like I was right there in her head with her as the events happened. And boy did things happen to her, this is a book that deals with such complex and heart wrenching abuse. Verbal abuse, physical abuse, emotional abuse, spiritual abuse, at times it felt so heavy and anxiety inducing. I was at a roller coaster right before the drop, or a balloon inflating with no sign of stopping and then... Well the drop didn't happen, the balloon never popped.
That was my only real issue with the book. The pacing brught us to this dazzling height only to gently let us down. To me it felt like perhaps she could have waited to write this memoir, there were a lot of painful memories she had to face and put to paper and the more recent ones just didn't come across as robust as the past. By this I mean I felt like she's too close to the point in time where her book ends to have been able to pull it apart and analyze it, process it. There's a lot of silence at the end, like the story was cherry-picked in some spots. I'm obviously talking about her father. In a horribly distressing scene she depicts a night where he almost killed her, a night that traumatized her youngest sister and put her at odds with her older brother. And yet the book skips any meaningful conversation about this event, jumps right into her life in the USA and then into a reconciliation with her abuser. She spent the whole book painting this boogeyman, this dangerous figure that mistreated her and then did nothing to show the painful path towards forgiveness and personal growth. I don't want to speculate, but I do wonder if she has actually processed everything that happened, if she's been to therapy. It felt like she bent the knee after a full book of standing up for her younger self. As I said at the beginning, it's hard to judge people's personal choices from my outside point of view but after being so in her head and life the ending felt empty of the same fire.
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