The Color of Water (part uno)

After reading roughly 85 pages of a book that my little sister could probably read in an hour or two, I've come to a few conclusions about James McBride and his Hitler-esque mother.  First and foremost was the latter, primarily her obsession with telling her children to be social outcasts and to care about nobody but themselves.  I understand her telling them to worry about themselves only, but the way she tells her children to completely disregard other people and their opinions was a little outrageous.  Had McBride followed his mother's instructions exactly, he never would have gotten this book published or accomplished anything noteworthy in his life.  My problem isn't as much with McBride as it is with his mother's philosophy on life.  Sure she had a rough childhood, but that doesn't mean she had to attempt to shield her kids from the real world because, despite what she may have thought, they were going to be thrown into it eventually.  Yet, I did admire one aspect of McBride's mother: her intentional obliviousness.  She had a great mindset when dealing with problems, the best mindset actually, which was to completely ignore them.  This is a lost quality that doesn't seem to exist anymore.  For example, imagine me, a small white boy, walking in the hallway and accidentally brushing shoulders with a black girl who was, admittedly, a little on the chunky side.  I, knowing that the halls were crowded and that it happens regularly, trudged on, ignoring the incident.  She, on the other hand, turned around and let out a roar of anger, the likes of which I'd never heard, exclaiming that, and I quote, “This white boy done pushed me up!”  The scene that ensued was a flurry of empty threats and foul language (Not from me, of course.  This is a true story by the way.) that would make any old lady plug the ears of the nearest child.  Evidently, we can all use a little bit of voluntary obliviousness.
    The more I read the more I tired of hearing stories of McBride's troubled childhood.  They all repeat the same, endless message: "We are poor.  Listen to how poor we are.  Man, we were so poor that this one time...”  I enjoyed the first chapter, but the incessant redundancies soon took their toll, and I was overwhelmed with feelings of lethargy and utter boredom.  I'm sure McBride thought he was being funny or cute when he was writing these tales, but enough is enough.  Unfortunately, there are a great many pages left to read, and I fear that there are many more 'adorable' stories of McBride's childhood to come.  We'll just have to wait and see.