I greatly appreciate what the main character goes throughout her life. Puerto Rico is vividly painted and so our the lives of the lovers in this story. The use of drugs, running wild in the streets and not knowing which way to turn. Life offers so much and so little at the same time. You will be stricken by the truth in this tale. I think that this is a must read. You will find yourself loss in this story. ( )

Se Ordinary Girls fosse un romanzo, probabilmente adesso starei iniziando questa recensione lamentandomi di come alla protagonista ne siano accadute troppe per rendere la narrazione credibile; invece Ordinary Girls è un memoir e inizio la recensione lamentandomi del fatto che non è stato tradotto in italiano e che abbiamo bisogno di più storie di questo tipo, per due motivi.

Il primo riguarda il modo in cui Díaz racconta la sua storia: questo genere di memoir spesso ha un andamento ascendente – dalle stalle alle stelle – prendendo avvio da un contesto di povertà e disagio per arrivare al successo coronato magari dalla pubblicazione del libro stesso. Ordinary Girls, invece, ha un andamento ondulatorio: non c’è il successo definitivo che salva per sempre Díaz, ma è un continuo oscillare tra lo stare bene e lo stare male, tra eventi positivi ed eventi terribili. Il che la rende una storia con la quale è facile empatizzare (quale vita può vantare il successo definitivo che ne sistema ogni aspetto?), per quanto possa essere lontana dalla nostra specifica esperienza di vita.

E abbiamo davvero bisogno di empatizzare con le vite delle persone come Díaz, il che ci porta al secondo motivo per cui abbiamo bisogno di queste storie. Se la vita di Díaz avesse smesso di oscillare e fosse deragliata verso lo stare male in maniera irreparabile, oggi non starei scrivendo questa recensione. Non solo perché Ordinary Girls non esisterebbe, ma perché le vite delle persone povere, che vivono in contesti di estremo degrado, che magari finiscono loro malgrado nella criminalità organizzata, che vengono distrutte dalle dipendenze e da malattie mentali mai diagnosticate o mal curate – tutte queste persone ci causano al massimo una scrollata di spalle.

Quella gente lì è ovvio che finisca male. Quante volte l’abbiamo detto, pensato, sentito? Come se ci fosse chi non vede l’ora di vivere una vita di merda. Quanto sappiamo essere arrogantз: ben vengano le storie che ci fanno vergognare della nostra insensibilità. ( )

Ordinary Girls: A Memoir (2019) by Jaquira Díaz is a story for the seemingly powerless. I haven’t read nonfiction in a while, and this book brought me to become interested in the genre with how immersive the story is. Díaz recounts her life experiences, but her use of imagery and description transport you to right there next to her as the event plays out. This read was inspiring, with a message of taking the circumstances fate had brought you and striving for a better life. Reading this memoir was certainly entertaining, but emotional taxing as Díaz covers darker parts like sexual harassment when she was younger.
I would recommend for those who felt like they were handed the wrong cards since birth, "for the black and brown girls...For the wild girls and the party girls, the loudmouths and troublemakers. For the girls who are angry and lost. For the girls who never saw themselves in books. For the girls who love other girls, sometimes in secret," (Díaz 304) as Díaz represents and reaches out to all of these with comfort.
My one area of criticism would be related to the fact that there are many characters presented in Díaz's story; many of whom are mentioned only a couple of times. It is quite difficult to keep track of all these figures over the course of the memoir. ( )

Diaz' story of her difficult life growing up in Puerto Rico and Florida with a mentally ill mother and an irresponsible father is passionate and engrossing. She painted a vivid picture of her life as a young girl and teen constantly getting into trouble, showing us what's really under the "bad girl" label.

Where this book fell short for me was that it's missing the big step that took her from troubled young adult to a successful writer. The book also mentions that she finally understood she was queer but for the entire book she is married to a man and although it mentions glimmerings of attraction to women, there's never a moment when she comes out or falls in love with a woman.

It felt like a big gap in the book, like a decisive moment and we never got to learn what happened. Was it just that she grew up?

Still a worthwhile read and a look at a very different life from my own.

Digital audiobook narrated by Almarie Guerra

In this memoir, Díaz relates her childhood and teen years with brutal honesty. She grows up in a dysfunctional family, first in Puerto Rico and later in Miami. Her mother battles both mental illness and drug addiction. Her father is frequently absent. She gets support and love from her friends, but lacks direction. She relishes her Puerto Rican cultural heritage, but her bisexuality does not fit the cultural model. A few teachers see the spark of her intelligence and nurture it, but she has a long, hard road to traverse (mostly alone) before she achieves some success.

I found her writing gripping and enthralling, despite the many cringe-worthy scenarios. Diaz does not flinch when reporting her own misdeeds, or a sexual assault, or her time in juvenile detention. There were times when I wanted to turn away, because the scenes were so painful, but her writing kept me going. My heart went out to the young girl and struggling teenager. I applauded the woman she became and the ways she found to reconcile with her parents.

Almarie Guerra does a superb job of narrating the audiobook. I had to double check that it was not narrated by the author, herself, because Guerra’s delivery sounds so very personal. ( )