Book review

Educated

~ gypsy116toast2001 ~ Leave a comment

I just finished reading Educated by Tara Westover. I’m not really going to review the book, other than to say that it is well written, and interesting. I would have liked more description of emotion but as we’ve discussed before, that’s a me thing. The book is good. I would recommend it. I don’t actually want to talk about the book though. I want to talk about the thoughts the book inspired.

Towards the end she, Tara, has a conversation with her mother where she felt seen, finally. Without getting to deeply into the story (I don’t want to spoil anything), this conversation sparked an internal shift in Tara. Upon reflection, she realized that the shame she had carried throughout her life wasn’t about her life circumstances, it had much more to do with the messages she received about herself, her worth, her identity, through her parents words and actions. Their refusal to accept her for the whole and unique person that she is.

This got me thinking about the weight we carry as parents. The responsibility that we have to our children. And the almost hypnotic power our parents tend to still have over us as adults. I’m not sure we ever fully get out from underneath those wounds.

The chances of my own mother ever fully seeing and accepting me as I am is near zero. I’ve accepted that and that I have to be that source of acceptance and validation for myself. I was going to write that I’m not sure I know how to do that, but no, I am sure that I do not. It’s something that I struggle with constantly and I’m sure will to some degree all of my life.

How, knowing the affect our parents have had on us, do we go about parenting our own children? I understand that it isn’t possible to not cause your child any damage, but I definitely would like to minimize any negative affect my unhealed parts have on my son and maximize the affect of the opposite.

I don’t know. I’m struggling here.

As I’ve talked about before, my son is autistic, PDA profile. I’ve finally (after about two years of searching) found someone who should be able to accurately assess him that I can afford. My hope is that she will be able to recommend appropriate support. Even with support, I’m having a hard time seeing how I can find balance in my life. Balance between his needs and my own.

I’ve recently seen a few videos about a study done on the effects of parenting a PDA child on the parents (link to first video in the series) and I received this comment, “PDA tends to be the hardest parenting, a 110% job”, when emailing about my son’s upcoming assessment. Both of these things were highly validating.

I’m not going to sit here and complain. I am so grateful for my son. It took me twenty years to get him (long story, I’ll save that for another day). He is my miracle and I love him so much. But…In this society, with the lack of support given to any and all parents, how are we meant to not only survive but thrive as parents? To give our children the best of ourselves so that we can stop passing down these old wounds that no longer serve anyone? Please, comment with your thoughts and experiences.

Writing Hard Stories

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I just finished reading Writing Hard Stories by Melanie Brooks.

I had purchased it second hand and was surprised to find that this copy was signed by the author 😊

I liked this book but I was simultaneously bored by it. Writing Hard Stories is a collection of essays based off of interviews with memoirists who have done just that, written hard stories. Stories mostly of loss and grief.

It’s well written and the interviews are informative and inspiring but… While all of the authors have their own unique voices, the things that are said all amount to pretty much the same thing. The upside of this and the thing that makes me glad that I read it, despite the tedium, is that in speaking of their process. Not their writing process exactly but the way that these books came to be, well, books. Their struggles. Their confusion over what story it is that they are telling and how to best tell it. Their feelings throughout. These things are all reflected in my own journey.

In reading this book, I’ve come to the conclusion that everything that I’m stressing about while trying to bring my book to life, is the process. This is how books like mine come to exist. I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. I am right on time. My journey is coming together perfectly.

The Kiss

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I just finished reading The Kiss by Kathryn Harrison. It feels uncomfortable to critique a memoir for anything past the writing itself. Having an opinion on the story feels a bit bizarre, I mean, it’s someone’s lived experience but… Here we are.

For as much as I fear people, man do I love the beautifully complex creatures that we are. I really liked this book. This story could be easily dismissed for the perverse nature of the story (and affair between a father and adult daughter) and it seems there were quite a few people trying to do just that when it was first published but that isn’t how I see it. All I see is how vulnerable are our psyches. How vulnerable we are emotionally. How rich and vibrantly complex our lives, even in the messy, the moments that we and most definitely society would consider failings.

I know many criticized the author for publishing this story. Called her attention seeking, creepy and implied that what was most definitely abuse was not because of her age at the time of the affair. I can only see the sharing of her story as brave and necessary, really. Things like this persist because we keep them hidden. The book should make you feel uncomfortable, hopefully uncomfortable enough to not look the other way in the face of abuse in and around you own life.

Crying in H Mart

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I just finished reading Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner. If you don’t already know, as a makeshift crash course on memoir writing, I have been reading memoir almost exclusively. Every list of recommended memoirs includes Crying in H Mart, like every damn list. So… I read it. I have mixed feelings.

The book is well written. Much of the prose quite beautiful and though the timeline in nonlinear, it didn’t feel confusing to me in the slightest. That said, I really didn’t like it. Like it was ok. It was fine. Not how I want to feel after reading a memoir… I want my heart ripped out of my chest. I want it to hurt in the best way and then… Then I want the wound to be dressed and cared for, gently. I want to feel made whole again by words alone. I want inspiration. And I didn’t get that here. For me, I feel like the description of outside events, environment, what have you, far outweighed internal experience and quite frankly, I was bored.

I’ve come to realize that I may have different taste than the average reader and/or whoever the readers are that decide that a book is so good and deserves all the praise. This isn’t the first highly recommended memoir that I’ve felt this way about. It always comes down to the same thing. I am so much more interested in the writer’s internal experience, the description of their thoughts and emotions than I am the outside world. I have to be able to relate to the author and I have to be able to relate emotionally.

I don’t know why any of this is surprising to me. This is absolutely the reason that I consume media, whether it be books, movies/shows or music. Unless I am in it to learn, which is also huge for me (I need to know all the things, ALL THE THINGS), I’m basically using it to process my emotions. I have difficulty with identifying my own emotions. I’m very good at seeing them in others but myself, well, it’s s struggle. I need someone outside of myself to trigger these emotions so that I can feel and process them fully.

This post is definitely not a dis on Crying in H Mart or Michelle Zauner’s writing. It is a well written book. If you enjoy books that are highly descriptive of the environment, this may be for you, especially if you like descriptions of food or foreign cultures. If you’re like me and are more interested in the internal, maybe not (in maybe a third of the book there is more emotional description), maybe then you’d like the book I just read (Unbearable Lightness by Portia de Rossi) or the one I’m reading currently (Girl in Need of a Tourniquet by Merri Lisa Johnso) more 🤷

Anyway, this has me thinking about writing and my memoir. I’ve heard over and over that most writers new to memoir struggle with the whole show don’t tell thing but that that is easy to learn. That the real struggle tends to be understanding that when you are writing your memoir, you aren’t just talking about yourself, you are making a connection with a wider theme. You are using your story as an example of some wisdom that you attempting to impart. It isn’t about you, it’s about the lesson.

I think that may be backward for me. I may struggle with the former much more then the latter. The general point of my public writing is to use my life, my story, my struggles to help others feel less alone. I definitely use it for my own processing but I do so by connecting my experience to larger societal themes, right? I feel like that kind of comes naturally to be but description of things outside of myself… that may be a struggle for me.

Like I said, it doesn’t interest me. If I’m being completely honest, at times I just skim the outside description. It feels like unnecessary filler and it bores me. Given that much of my life had been lived inside of my head, that makes sense. What about you? How do you feel about description in writing? Do you prefer description of the scenery? The action? Or are you similar to me and prefer the internal landscape? Maybe both are equally important for you? I’m genuinely curious. Please drop a comment and let me know.

But Everyone Feels this Way

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I was thinking about writers and how it’s easier to publish a book if you already have an audience, and the need to support those that you enjoy and that brought me to the realization that I totally forgot to do a review for Paige Layle’s book, But Everyone Feels this Way. I read it quite awhile ago, so I don’t really remember the specifics but I do remember what I wanted to say.

If you are unfamiliar with Paige, she makes content on social media speaking about autism. I like Paige. I have from the first video of her’s that I came across. She does , however, have a way of sometimes coming across as if her opinion is THE truth. I find that irksome at times but…. I like her. I find her content relatable and entertaining.

That said, after reading her book, I like her even more. Reading her story helped me to reframe some of what I found off-putting. This is definitely one of my favorite memoirs about autism.

Autism presents in such a wide variety of ways… If you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person, so it’s hard to say whether or not anyone else would feel the same way that I do. I think the memoirs people tend to like best are the ones they most relate to but… Other than Drama Queen… This is my favorite.

So, here’s me showing support for Paige. I highly recommend it.

No Impact Man

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I finished reading No Impact Man by Colin Beavan. I am sobbing. I’m talking full on body shaking, convulsing, cathartic sobbing.

When I was looking through the reviews for this book on Goodreads, I was surprised. While it received many more positive reviews, there were a surprising number of one star ratings, complete with negative reviews. There seems to be a lot of criticism of the author himself for not initially knowing seemingly simple solutions to eco problems (like diapers or tissues) and writing about his personal revelations during the project.

I do not agree. The point of the project, of the book itself, was for Colin, a regular dude and his family to reduce the negative impact his family is having on the environment as much as possible. The point was to figure it out as the project progressed and write about the impact that had on him and his wife and daughter. To me, it seems, mission accomplished.

Regardless of whether or not you liked the book or the author himself, it does highlight things we should all be concerned with. Is the life you’re currently living, the life that you truly want to be living? Do all of the things you do and buy and consume and support really make your life better? Is this way of life that we are living worth our health…our happiness…our fucking planet?

For me, the answer is no. I need to start to do things differently.