Some authors write their autobiographies so that we can read a good, inspirational story. Others write stories about their lives so that we can see how they overcame challenges in their lives to rise to greatness. Still other people are just very interesting to read about. But try as I might, I cannot for the life of me figure out why Gary Soto wrote an autobiography.
Living Up the Street tells about the circumstances involving the childhood of Gary Soto, a writer from Fresno, California. From the very beginning, the story is not interesting. The first chapter, titled "Being Mean," tells of how Soto and his brother Rick greet their new neighbors by getting in a fight with them. When Gary and Rick lose, they find a stray cat, and put it and their own cat in a bag to hit their neighbors with. Oh boy, that sure makes me want to be like you, Soto.
And the time when he talks about breaking into his friend's recently married sister's house to steal her radio, food, and lamp, and then return it before she gets home just because he did not have enough money to escape to San Francico with it, that sure makes me feel good inside.
Oh, I almost forgot about the highly inspirational part where Soto talks about hanging out with his friend Jackie on the weekend. They sure are good citizens, knocking over trash cans and breaking into stores to steal their mannequins so that they can fight with them. Gosh, Soto, you're like George Washington, such an asset to society.
Living Up the Street is a very terrible autobiography. The events written about are so base as to be slightly offensive. Does Soto actually think that readers will learn something from his book, that they will want to be more like him after reading it? Because no one will. This book is not worth the ink and paper that was used to make it. I am sorry, Soto, but we just do not care.
Grade: 2.5
Living Up the Street tells about the circumstances involving the childhood of Gary Soto, a writer from Fresno, California. From the very beginning, the story is not interesting. The first chapter, titled "Being Mean," tells of how Soto and his brother Rick greet their new neighbors by getting in a fight with them. When Gary and Rick lose, they find a stray cat, and put it and their own cat in a bag to hit their neighbors with. Oh boy, that sure makes me want to be like you, Soto.
And the time when he talks about breaking into his friend's recently married sister's house to steal her radio, food, and lamp, and then return it before she gets home just because he did not have enough money to escape to San Francico with it, that sure makes me feel good inside.
Oh, I almost forgot about the highly inspirational part where Soto talks about hanging out with his friend Jackie on the weekend. They sure are good citizens, knocking over trash cans and breaking into stores to steal their mannequins so that they can fight with them. Gosh, Soto, you're like George Washington, such an asset to society.
Living Up the Street is a very terrible autobiography. The events written about are so base as to be slightly offensive. Does Soto actually think that readers will learn something from his book, that they will want to be more like him after reading it? Because no one will. This book is not worth the ink and paper that was used to make it. I am sorry, Soto, but we just do not care.
Grade: 2.5
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