Part oral history, part urban history, part celebration of a bygone way of life, The Yellow House is a full indictment of the greed, discrimination, indifference and poor city planning that led her family's home to be wiped off the map. It is an instantly essential text, examining the past, present and possible future of the city of New Orleans, and of America writ large
This is a major book that I suspect will come to be considered among the essential memoirs of this vexing decade
Masterful. Large-scale and granular at once. Quietly stunning prose. Wow.
Sarah M. Broom's gorgeous debut, The Yellow House, reads as elegy and prayer . . . Broom is a writer of great intellect and breadth
Gorgeously written, intimate and wise, Sarah M. Broom's The Yellow House is an astonishing memoir of family, love, and survival. It's also a history of New Orleans unlike any we've seen before, one that should be required reading
The Yellow House is both personal and sharply political . . . Readers may hear echoes of James Baldwin in the relentlessness of her inquiry, and in the sinewy cadences of her sentences . . . Pared down to its studs, The Yellow House is a love story. It is a declaration of unconditional devotion and commitment to place.
A great, multigenerational family story . . . Broom is an engaging guide; she has some of David Simon's effortless reporting style, and her meditations on eroding places recall Jeannette Walls. The house didn't survive Katrina, but its destruction strengthened Broom's appreciation of home. Broom's memoir serves as a touching tribute to family and a unique exploration of the American experience
Every few years, a book comes along that teaches readers of memoir how to read and writers of memoir how to write. Calling Sarah M. Broom's The Yellow House a memoir feels wrong . . . Broom narratively glides through choppy air almost in slow-motion, and when I least expect it, she digs into the ground of New Orleans conjuring the most humanely massive intervention I've read in 21st century memoir writing
A beautiful memoir . . . rich and complex