Lit: A Memoir

So, next book in the series is Lit: A Memoir by Mary Karr. I ordered it from the library in February, and it finally arrived- huzzah!

Now, in the spirit of a memoir (hopefully), I'll be honest: I wanted nothing more than to just skim through this book, post, and then move onto the book I have to read for book club by Saturday evening and finish the baby blanket I'm working on. Unfortunately for me, I couldn't.

The short story is that I absolutely adored the book. Beyond adored- it's going onto the short list of must-buys.

The long story is not too terribly long, I hope, because I'm confident that you will go get the friggin' book and see for yourself, because I am commanding it of you. And because you'll thank me for it. But here's something to pique your interest- an explanation of sorts.

Lit is the third of Karr's memoirs, this one taking place from her late teenage years, through her messy battle with alcoholism, her divorce, and to about the age of forty. Her first two memoirs, chronicling the years before this, are The Liar's Club and Cherry, both of which I intend to read soon (a decision that should show you my vote of confidence based on how many other books I have remaining on this year's list).

I think that anybody can relate to her life- maybe not as extreme as she lived it, but in aspects, she reflects every person that's ever been hurt or done the hurting (if you've experienced neither, I would love to know your secret) in a way that is easy, understandable, and poetic. Her struggle to become a writer fascinated me particularly, especially when she writes:

"Crazed to see my name in print, which would prove poethood, I mailed to hapless editors work bad enough that- in retrospect- I'm surprised the rejections didn't come with a cyanide pill" (p52).

So there's hope for me yet?

I was also struck by how honest she was. Obviously, that's the hope for a memoirist- that this one won't be another Million Little Pieces that's praised for it's rawness, only to be proven a hoax. (Side note- I'm confident it's not, but something preternatural might happen if it were. I think I'd turn into a werewolf and rip her into shreds... verbally, of course.) She even shows, though, that she knows she cant trust her own memories.

"Whatever the case, those years only filter back through the self I had at the time, when I was most certainly- even by my yardstick then- a certain species of crazy... When I reach to grasp a solid truth from that time, smoke pours through my fingers" (p 88).

Here's what I'll leave you with, because I'm running late to work- it was absolutely worth the three month wait. If you read nothing else, accept one of my highest endorsements.

Also a side note- would you ever write a memoir? Why or why not? I thought about this a lot as I read on... still no answer.