Heartland is Sarah Smarsh's memoir of growing up poor in rural Kansas, herself the youngest of generations of poor women, and the effect that systematic poverty has on her people. The book contains some interesting points about growing up rural and poor, and includes some eye-opening anecdotes about herself and her family.
And yet, I'm not sure this book ever rises above the sum of its parts. Yes, there are some interesting tidbits, but I'm not sure Smarsh ever really consolidates them into making her point. The book feels haphazardly arranged to me. She includes stories about the women in her life (great-grandmothers, grandmothers, mother, herself), but they're all interspersed throughout in no particular order. So it comes across as a rambling, not-really-chronologically arranged collection, sprinkled with historical context and additional personal thoughts. But it doesn't build up to anything or come together cohesively at any point, so I don't feel like I'm walking away from it with any new insights.
For example, she mentions at one point that the people she knew didn't really care about politics or public polices and could hardly be bothered to care. In fact, they pretty much mistrusted all politicians. Well, if these people couldn't be bothered to figure out who was good for them and who was treading on their backs to gain more wealth and power, then how can the system get better? It's an interesting issue that she could have explored further, but she didn't.
Another example is that she talks about how prevalent teen pregnancy is. When it inevitably happens too soon to the women in her life, they'd be set on a lifetime of poverty. But she doesn't address why teen pregnancy happens at such a high rate to her people. After all, teens have sex everywhere, no matter their class. So is it a problem with affording the cost of protection? Or is it a lack of education and understanding about how reproduction happens? This is the sort of insight that could then lead to a discussion on public policy changes that could break the cycle of poverty. But she doesn't talk about any of this. In fact, she alludes to many promising areas for discussion, but doesn't really address any in a profound way.
Don't get me wrong, I understand and concur with her general theme that it isn't fair or acceptable for a society to subject its people to a lifetime of poverty without a way for them or their progeny to get out. The poor aren't afraid of hard work, and they work just as hard as everyone else. It's just that the system stacks the odds such that almost no one can escape. But that's insight I already understood from reading other books, and not gleaned from this one.
One odd thing that I have to point out because it so detracts from the book is that it's written to the author's unborn, unconceived, unwanted daughter. She addresses her as "you" and names her August. At the most random moments, she'll talk to her and it's extremely jarring. It completely pulls me out of the narration every time. It feels awkward and sappy, like I'm observing a private moment that I shouldn't. I wish the author didn't include this, as it came across like an affected device that wasn't really necessary.
In the end, I had such high hopes for this book, and it just didn't quite meet them. If you approach this book as another diverse voice that helps you understand a country full of diverse voices and experiences, then I think you'll get what you want out of it. But to expect any further insights would only lead to disappointment.
Readaroo Rating: 3 stars
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