Memoirs as Salvation

~~First an apology for the radio silence. I’ve been neglecting Book Barmy lately. Last minute travel preparations dominate right now, as we prepare to leave on a grand trip next week. As a result, my reading has dwindled to a few pages at night- (sometimes the same pages from the night before) until I can’t keep my eyes open. Stay tuned for more on our travel excitement in an upcoming post. ~~

What is it about memoirs? I gravitate toward them in anxious times and decided it was because I’m a bit of a guilty voyeur combined with a dash of schadenfreude. I seem to gain solace from dipping into the disastrous lives of others. So when I came across this wonderful Mary Karr essay HERE , I knew I had a chum — another memoir lover out there.

Her entire essay is worth reading, but here’s my favorite bit:

Out of great suffering come great truths—not just intellectual concepts, but ideas informed by feeling. The word passion comes from the Latin passio, which refers to Jesus’s suffering on the cross. Anytime you take a stranger’s agony into your body, you’re changed by it, refined into a vessel better able to give and receive love, which is the sole purpose of being alive. The best memoirs I’ve ever read deliver such salvation.

I prefer Ms. Karr’s rationale to mine – memoirs as salvation – and yes, in experiencing the agony of another –one may be better able to give and receive love.

In case you’re in need of some salvation or just want to indulge in a bit of guilty schadenfreude –here’s some of my all time favorite memoirs.

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Mary Karr, herself has written two excellent memoirs – Liar’s Club an account of her harrowing yet thrilling childhood and in Lit she tells of her battles with alcohol and depression as a young mother.

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Which brings us to the exceptional Jeannette Wells – The Glass Castle is a Book Barmy must read with Half Broke Horses close behind.

What is so astonishing about these two memoirs is that Jeannette Walls not only had the courage to survive a horrific upbringing by an alcoholic father and mentally ill mother but that she portrays her experiences with such deep affection and generosity. This is a story of guts and unconditional love in a profoundly flawed family.

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Then there’s the infamous Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt. I have a fond memory of finding this book in a little bookshop in Dublin and reading it cover to cover on the flight home. During the flight, as I was hunkered into this book, the attendant brought me my meal and commented on what I was reading — I confessed I felt guilty eating because poor Frank and his family hadn’t had enough food for days.

From the opening of Mr. McCourt’s autobiography:

When I look back on my childhood I wonder how I managed to survive at all. It was, of course, a miserable childhood: the happy childhood is hardly worth your while. Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood.

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One of my all time favorites is Eat Pray Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert. Read this memoir for it’s depiction of a trip of a lifetime and Ms. Gilbert’s personal journey. Rediscovering joy, peace and love while gaining friends, insights and few extra pounds along the way. It’s really not as sappy as I just made it sound – honestly.

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And now for something similar yet completely different … Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs. Once again we witness a nightmarish youth and the reparations, but in this case Mr. Burroughs tells his tale in such a way that it is both entertaining and outrageous. So entertaining, in fact that some studio attempted to make a film based on the book. Just terrible, give it a miss – the film that is – not the book.

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I was recently reminded of the classic Testament of Youth – an autobiography of a independent woman who volunteers as a nurse during WWI. I missed many a wild club scene evening buried in its pages back in the 80’s. It’s been adapted into what looks to be a promising film (trailer HERE).

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The other evening I started this unique memoir. Grieving over the unexpected death of her father, Helen MacDonald rediscovers her love of falconry with a prickly and murderous goshawk — named Mabel. I’m only a few chapters in and it’s riveting (at least for as long as I’m able to stay awake these recent nights).