Reading 2017: Memoir

Memoir is a genre I read often.  Each life has its own unique combination of characters, circumstances, and quirks that spark natural interest and seem to make memoir a bit more of a forgiving genre. In 2017 I read both traditional memoir as well as some epistolary collections.  I take the liberty of expounding on the full range here.

I started the year with The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion.  This memoir goes through the period of time when her husband John Dunne passes: a time when her daughter was also in a coma. Her husband passed when her daughter was already fully grown, yet even in my mere two years of marriage, I felt the shock and could resonate with her feelings. My brother died in 2003, and ever since then I automatically evaluate an author's astuteness in conveying the experience of grief. A brilliant writer, Didion wields her sentences, repetition, and structure to mirror the wave-like nature of grieving. Moreover, she cited such interesting texts and research throughout the book; she includes poetry and excerpts on grief etiquette alongside highly medical texts on what happens to the organism in death. In addition to being skillfully written, it rings true on every page. She captures and expresses her experience incredibly well. I think it can be appreciated by anyone who is experiencing or seeing another experience grief, but it also can appeal to a wider audience, as grief will touch each of us at some point.

I mentioned The Year of Magical Thinking as one of the books I loved when I was a guest on the What Should I Read Next (WSIRN) Podcast (episode 85).  One of the books Anne Bogel recommended in response was Madeleine L’Engle's Circle of Quiet as well as L'Engle's other Crosswick's Journals.  Having loved L'Engle's Walking on Water, the recommendation was spot-on.  The Crosswick's Journals are memoirs based on times L'Engle spent living at her Crosswick's home.  As usual I appreciated L'Engle's perspective and thoughtfulness.  I've yet to read the entire series, but am currently reading Two-Part Invention, which is about her relationship with her husband.  She chooses and relates each moment carefully, and I am fascinated by each detail.

Another of Anne Bogel's recommendations was Dani Shapiro's Hourglass, which also heavily emphasizes her marriage (as well as time and memory).  I loved the thoughtful tone.  It's a small volume, and I couldn't stop myself from reading quickly, yet even as I did so I was kicking myself and promising myself I would reread it and give it the time it deserved.  It's returned from a stint at the home of another readerly friend, so perhaps it'll be a nice follow-up to L'Engle's Two-Part Invention.

Another wife and mother that I read this year was Amy Chua, and I read her Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother after reading the acknowledgements in Hillbilly Elegy and realizing that Vance wasn't making a pop culture reference in calling his former professor Amy Chua his Tiger Mother. Rather, she was the Tiger Mother. I remembered hearing about this book years ago, and I think I was mislead by reviews, just as I was originally swayed against Gretchen Rubin (see former postjust by hearing talk around her. This fast, self-effacing, humorous memoir is centered on her experience of raising two daughters. The title comes from a reference to the Chinese zodiac, Chua being born in the year of the tiger. As a daughter of Chinese immigrants, she grew up with much stricter expectations than those around her. She implements the same principles of Chinese parenting with her children (forcing her straight-A daughter to do all extra credit, sitting in on each piano lesson, driving 2 hours each weekend for violin lessons with a renowned teacher), with mixed results. When I compare my experience reading the book with my experience of hearing about the book when it came out in 2011, I feel like the media misrepresented the book. It’s a memoir, and there are some wild conversations between mother and daughter recorded, but Chua also makes fun of herself, and it's clear that she's not above questioning her approach. Moreover, I appreciate that in the afterword, she talks about reading the drafts to her children and husband and getting their feedback on the work. (As an aside, I think reading the book while thinking of each family member in context of Gretchen Rubin's The Four Tendencies would be fascinating.)

As referenced above, I also read Hillbilly Elegy: A Memoir of a Family and Culture in Crisis by J. D. Vance in 2017.  I first heard about this book from my sister Faith’s blog, and then the title kept popping up. The book was easy to read, though the content (language warning) was far from “easy.” Vance writes of his and his family's experience as hillbillies, and about the hillbilly subculture.  His observations are at times surprising (that it's more affordable for a person in poverty to attend Harvard than to attend a state school due to the types of aid/scholarships offered) and enlightening.  It has all the aspects of a great memoir: a unique story, unexpected content, and a chance to better understand someone different than yourself.  And as many critics mentioned, it might be a particularly fitting read for this time we're in.

For those of you wondering about the nonfiction epistolary books I promised, those were C.S. Lewis' Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer and 84 Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff: two vastly different books, but both with ties to England.  Neither book was intended to be published.  In Lewis' book, his friend and he decide to correspond especially on prayer, and as usual, Lewis keen perspective and humility shines through.  (Malcolm's letters are not included.) Hanff (writing from New York) is far from humble in her hilarious correspondence with a bookseller in the UK.  The presence of the dry replies to her outlandish letters amp up the humour all the more.  Initially, I didn't know this was a collection of real correspondence, and because her tone can be so assaulting, the revelation was all the more delicious.  The letters span from 1949-1969 as she orders books from the UK.  She becomes familiar with the booksellers, and seeing as it was still difficult to acquire all the foodstuffs one would want after the war, she also starts ordering things for the bookshop employees through catalogs.  The tone transforms throughout the book as friendships emerge between the various bookshop employees and Hanff.  A hilarious, touching, quick read (under 100 pages).  Just thinking about it makes me want to pick it up again.


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