Review: 'Manifesto: On Never Giving Up' by Bernardine Evaristo

Evaristo's Girl, Woman, Other was one of the best books I read last year. It opened up a whole new spectrum of lived experiences and gave me a whole new view of the lives of Black women in England. Naturally I couldn't help but be curious about Evaristo herself, especially as this book had been my first introduction to her writing. And Manifesto definitely gave me more of an insight into her work and life. THanks to Grove Atlantic and NetGalley for providing me with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Pub. Date: 1/18/2022
Publisher: Grove Atlantic

Bernardine Evaristo’s 2019 Booker Prize win was a historic and revolutionary occasion, with Evaristo being the first Black woman and first Black British person ever to win the prize in its fifty-year history. Girl, Woman, Other was named a favorite book of the year by President Obama and Roxane Gay, was translated into thirty-five languages, and has now reached more than a million readers.

Evaristo’s astonishing nonfiction debut, Manifesto, is a vibrant and inspirational account of Evaristo’s life and career as she rebelled against the mainstream and fought over several decades to bring her creative work into the world. With her characteristic humor, Evaristo describes her childhood as one of eight siblings, with a Nigerian father and white Catholic mother, tells the story of how she helped set up Britain’s first Black women’s theatre company, remembers the queer relationships of her twenties, and recounts her determination to write books that were absent in the literary world around her. She provides a hugely powerful perspective to contemporary conversations around race, class, feminism, sexuality, and aging. She reminds us of how far we have come, and how far we still have to go. In Manifesto, Evaristo charts her theory of unstoppability, showing creative people how they too can visualize and find success in their work, ignoring the naysayers.

Both unconventional memoir and inspirational text, Manifesto is a unique reminder to us all to persist in doing work we believe in, even when we might feel overlooked or discounted. Evaristo shows us how we too can follow in her footsteps, from first vision, to insistent perseverance, to eventual triumph.

Autobiographies are a tricky genre for me, either because it turns out I'm not actually as interested in the life of the person writing, or because the writing itself is too dry. Technically neither of these were an issue with Manifesto, but I did find myself wondering how much I actually wanted to know about Evaristo as a person while reading. I couldn't help but try to link her life to her fiction, draw links between lived experiences and written lives. Then, for me, there was the subtitle of the book, On Never Giving Up, which felt off to me initially. I have become highly skeptical of optimism over the past few years, which is one of Evaristo's driving forces. I think some of this skepticism comes from an inbuilt desire in our culture for people, specifically creative artists, to be demonstrative in their suffering, to show us their scars and to admit they haven't entirely recovered from their traumas. So to have someone like Evaristo show us her life and her difficulties and yet maintain her optimism and joy and drive initially struck me in an odd way. But as she continued and as I "got to know" Evaristo I began to see the strength that is behind this optimism. When everything goes your way it is easy to be optimistic and let things slide off you. But when you have witnessed and experienced struggle from the very beginning, this optimism is radical. 

Manifesto is split into various chapters that are dictated by theme, rather than chronology per se. First is 'heritage, childhood, family, origins', which was probably my favourite chapter. There is something almost fairy tale like to how she describes her childhood now, at a far remove, in which beauty and cruelty go hand in hand. There are some stunning moments in this first chapter where she delves into the racism faced by her Nigerian father, as well as the racism faced by her Irish ancestors. The love for her family shines through, the pride Evaristo has in her broad ancestry. While she doesn't linger on the cruelty of micro- and macro-aggressions, she never denies their presence. 'houses, flats, rooms, homes' brought me, someone who also has no desire to tie themselves to a mortgage, both hope and despair. Landlords can be the worst, but there is an independence to renting, to being able to move, to knowing you can set down roots wherever. Evaristo ends it on the note that:
            Writing became a room of my own; writing became my permanent home.

I had some issues with the chapter that followed, 'the women and men who came and went', specifically with how Evaristo described her own "lesbian phase". I have no right to disagree with how someone views or describes their own sexuality, but I found myself wondering whether tying her female relationships to her growing awareness of feminism, describing them as a filler rather than a part of herself, does her service. 'poetry, fiction, verse fiction, fusion fiction' will be the chapter most exciting to those hoping to glean insight into Evaristo's writing process. I loved how much her works changed, how inspiration came from so many different places, and how it took time and (critical) feedback every time. The final section, 'drama, community, performance, politics' was truly inspirational, however, seeing how Evaristo consistently works for her community without taking away from her own work. Seeing how much has been accomplished by women like her lights something of a fire within myself.

Bernardine Evaristo is a great writer, which deserves to be consistently pointed out. She writes with a wink, revealing more of herself than one might expect while managing to keep a certain mystery about her. You'll get to read her primary school reports and you'll find out about who she slept with, but she isn't entirely knowable. I prefer it that way. For some Manifesto will read like a bohemian, 'it was better before' kind of book, admiring the days without internet in which rent was cheap and love came easy. For others, like myself, Manifesto reads like a reminder to indeed not give up on life, that optimism is fuel and not a reward. Life won't come easy, it will be hard, but perhaps positive manifestations do indeed help. With all that there is still to do when it comes to eradicating racism, making the world safe for women, and highlighting Black voices, a ray of hope, a tale of growing into one self and finding confidence and power with every step, is exactly what we need.

I give this book...

4 Universes!

Manifesto is a very interesting read which will be fascinating to anyone who has engaged with Evaristo's works before. Evaristo has lived a fascinating life so far and she will prove an inspiration to many.