Soul on Ice - Classic Book by Eldridge Cleaver | Memoir & Social Commentary | Perfect for Book Clubs, History Enthusiasts & Civil Rights Studies" (Note: Assuming "Soul on Ice" refers to Eldridge Cleaver's famous memoir. If it's a different product, please provide context for accurate optimization.)

Outside the generally detached and often cynical reviews that are so typical of those who have little to no understanding of the inordinate complexities commonly born by blacks of the period, do I humbly submit this evaluation. I believe that if one is open enough to the notion of understanding life from an entirely foreign perspective, then one might also be able to appreciate the indefatigable efforts on an impossible journey to sainthood by this book's author. In my mind, Eldridge Cleaver most adequately personified the rebirth of the black conscious alpha male. His writing in this book was the perfect blend of a sort of primal rage coupled with the suave literary sophistication of the most accomplished poet. Soul on Ice is essentially an allegorical retelling of some of the most profound experiences in the life of a man who's awakening in a world drenched in terrorism (of the European variety) was anything but kind.As a black man in his thirties, I am always impressed and then ultimately relieved to see how men of my own ethnicity have torn through the societal constraints (real or imagined) seeking to right the wrongs of their lives that the whole of the community can begin to heal, thus being at peace with itself. Many can learn from this book -including whites- but only if the goal is not to seek justification for condemning the overall purpose of the black panthers harping on the imperfections and past sins of many of it's heralds. Believe me, there are quite a few reviews written about this book that give precisely that impression, only to concede begrudgingly of course, that these black men & women were indeed human after all.For Eldridge Cleaver, the book was a catharsis, in which he admits to the unsavory truth of his involvement in rape - a nearly unforgivable crime in my opinion. Nevertheless, one soon discovers that the author is not beyond the reach of redemption thankfully. His prose and allegory give strong testament to his skill with a pen. The back-n-forth love letters with his one-time lawyer Beverly Axlerod, are endearing and is sure to make every women blush. His unflinching analysis on the social politics of the day is defiant but also lucid; to suggest that the U.S. government (p. 153, paragraph 2), was sending 16% of blacks to Vietnam in order to butcher peasants who like themselves, were fighting for the right to self-determination - not so much to die - but that hate for blacks would metastasize across the rice fields of Asia like a cancer is jarring, but not entirely without merit. Lastly his appeal to black women was a call for reconciliation with the brothas, a call that has mostly gone unanswered even today sadly. Cleaver was no angel, nor should he have been as the world in which he lived, was no place for the faint of heart. And he was not trying to explain away, much less mitigate the severity of his crimes which quite frankly, pale in comparison to the force of the upswing in his life. I don't think his goal was to assuage white people or anyone else for that matter. Instead, he set out to discover himself and the world around him. In Ismael Reed's preface in this extraordinary book, is a most fitting description of Cleaver, given first by Amiri Baraka: Bohemian Anarchist!(Page 34, Paragraph 3)That is why I started to write. To save myself. I realized that no one could save me but myself. The prison authorities were both uninterested and unable to help me. I had to seek out the truth and unravel the snarled web of my motivations...It may be that I can harm myself by speaking frankly and directly, but I do not care about that at all. Of course I want to get out of prison, badly, but I shall get out some day. I am more concerned with what I am going to be after I get out. I know that by following the course which I have charted I will find my salvation. If I had followed the path laid down for me by the officials, I'd undoubtedly have long since been out of prison - but I'd be less of a man. I'd be weaker and less certain of where I want to go, what I want to do, and how to go about it.