
Ordinary Notes is a book of small pieces that carry astonishing weight. In hundreds of brief entries, Christina Sharpe traces how antiblackness saturates the atmosphere, and how Black people build beauty, care, and meaning anyway. She moves from a childhood windowsill to a plantation tour, from museum halls to a memorial graveyard, from a mother’s handwriting to a stranger’s apology. She reads photographs closely. She listens to hard sounds. She honors tenderness wherever it appears. This is not a tidy arc. It’s the feel of living and thinking in real time, with the past pressing into the present. Sharpe guides us through spectacular violence and everyday slights, but always returns us to practices that sustain: reading, singing, noticing, holding one another. Ordinary Notes is exacting, intimate, and unexpectedly consoling. It asks us to look with care, to refuse the easy narrative, and to make a chorus from small true things.