Becoming

Michelle grew up on the South Side of Chicago, in a small apartment on the upper floor of a great-aunt's house. There were four of them, her father, her mother, her and her brother Craig, sharing tight space and hearing the aunt's piano from downstairs, where she gave lessons to the neighborhood.

The book shows a childhood without luxury and with a lot of presence. Her mother taught her to read early, demanded complete answers and did not accept easy excuses. Family dinner was a commitment, and every child could weigh in. It was an upbringing that valued each person's voice, even a small one.

It is the same value many families cultivate in cramped homes in struggling neighborhoods: what is missing in square footage is made up for in attention. Attention, however, does not pay the bills, and the book does not romanticize a lack of money.

One idea running through the childhood in the book is that her mother wanted kids who could fend for themselves, not children who depended on her for everything. It sounds harsh, but it shaped a girl who learned early to ask for help when she needed it and to understand that making mistakes is part of learning.

Fraser Robinson worked at the city's water treatment plant and had multiple sclerosis, a disease that affects the nervous system and makes movement difficult. Over time, he began using a cane. Even so, he left for work every day without complaining.

The author takes a lesson in character from him: dignity is showing up, doing the job well and treating your children with affection, even when tired. The household seemed stronger than the disease would suggest, because her father was there for his children in everything he could be.

Anyone whose father or mother rode a packed bus at five in the morning will recognize the picture. The quiet courage of people with no alternative also teaches, though the book acknowledges the cost: he died young, in 1991, when Michelle was already an adult.

Michelle was a hardworking student and got into a selective public school in Chicago, Whitney Young, where she rode the bus for more than an hour every day. There she learned that she could compete at anyone's level, but also that she had to prove it more than others did.

When she mentioned applying to Princeton, a counselor said she probably didn't have the profile for a university at that level. Her reaction was to use the remark as fuel. She got in, and the book records this as a lesson that other people's doubt measures their limits, not yours.

For anyone who has been told that public school doesn't lead to a top university, the scene is familiar. Still, the author admits the right support helped: a firm mother and a brother who had already opened the path kept that remark from knocking her down.