I view ‘Dreams from My Father’ as a creation myth.
I think that most, if not all of us know what it feels like to lack an identity. Perhaps it’s as simple as feeling you don’t share your parent’s beliefs. Obama feels this keenly, with a tumultuous childhood raised by a single mother in Hawaii and Indonesia. In ‘Dreams from My Father’ I think he sets out to create a narrative for himself, one he is well aware that he is spinning.
The book is peppered with large swaths of dialogue and even back and forth conversations from many years ago, and yet at no point does Obama express doubt in what he writes or in what he remembers being said. I don’t think this is because he is arrogant in his intelligence, but instead I see it as him admitting that he knows what he is saying is part-dreamt. I think Obama is trying to piece together a story for himself, of where he came from and what his values are, and that is quite beautiful.
At first I wondered if Obama wrote this book, one where he’s honest of his faults but overwhelmingly charming and likeable, to advance his political career, portraying himself as a good man. However as I continue reading all I feel is his honesty. Honesty in his anger towards the ignorance of racist people as a child, honesty in his desire to help disadvantaged communities as a young man.
I think it would be a mistake to read this to try to glean anything about Obama’s political motives. This book is deeply personal, like all great fiction.