Book Review: Mary Karr's _Lit_

It's ironic, or at least self reflexive, that I should come across and read Mary Carr's Lit, which chronicles, amongst other things, a sojourn in a mental hospital, while I was in such a place myself. I'm not dodging this issue, by the way: I just need to write a review of this book while it's still fresh in my head, having read its 385 pages over two days between groups and appointments and involuntary meds-induced naps and not having access to a copy of it for reference purposes.

Given those circumstances, this isn't going to be a review like reviews I submit to literary magazines. It'll be more of a quick-and-dirty. It's important for me to be reading memoirs like this, since memoir is going to be one component of my MFA thesis on which I'm embarking, and dealing with stories around health and soul-health is an important aspect of what will be memoir'd.

Lit is plastered with rave reviews, including one from no less than Michiko Kakutani on the front cover. Given this unanimous ecstasy, I was distinctly underwhelmed. In fairness, though, without that billing I wouldn't have been disappointed. The memoir is very readable, sometimes funny, sometimes poignant, reflective enough that it isn't just a me-me-me (although of course it is that too).

I learned both some how tos and some how not tos from reading this book. Number one: Get a better editor! Of course that's always my pet peeve; how many books have I read, sympathizing and loving the book, and thinking about every three minutes "Can I be your editor and have you do this again?" Seriously, though, throughout the book the use of em dashes and commas is so erratic and often so ill advised that where it doesn't actually distort the meaning (which it does) it often made my eyes hurt. This being the case, it's not surprising that the whole panoply of pet peeves is out in force, from gerund use to comma splices; from sentence structure to sequence of tenses.The word "scrim" appears thrice--too many for such a word. I saw the word "Ziploc" spelled three different ways; the name "Spencer" spelled differently twice in as many lines.

The latter leads me to the biggest how not to I learned from reading this. Karr uses present tense as her main narrative tense. It's been popular to do this, the last thirty years or so, to impart a sense of vividness and immediacy. I've always been suspicious of the device because I've always loved the richness of time relationships language offers us. How wonderful, for example, that the present perfect allows for us to be in a present state as a result of a past action (I have arrived~I came here and am here now). But in this book, the present tense for narrative really doesn't work. It's not just a matter of making the narrative feel one-dimensional, lacking time relationships. There are many sentences structured something like "A few days after the funeral, she is walking down the street..." This may not look too bad out of context, but the first part is past tense solidly, and the present tense right after can only be unnatural. I don't have examples from the text, but there were many that were jarring indeed.

Some of these jarring instances, however, were created by what's probably the biggest how to of the book for me, which is that Karr reflects as a present time writer on the narrative of her past and inserts these reflections into the narrative. Present time writer and past time experiencer really requires past tense narrative. However, these reflections are probably the most special thing in the book, especially when she gives glimpses of the process of writing the book: not wanting to spend too much time on an episode, wishing a character had signed off on her version of events, choosing a pseudonym or pseudonymous location for an event. These reflections show that the author has her reader in mind and understands what a reader might want to know about, but also is aware of herself both as writer and experiencer--her privacy and the ways in which she wishes to present information are part of the relevant material.

I haven't read Karr's two earlier memoirs--and what's up with THREE memoirs?? But I was at a disadvantage for it. In at least one place, Karr summarizes material from an earlier memoir, but even apart from that there were enough untied ends that it was clear that material presented elsewhere was being assumed. Editorial and present tense problems aside, this may be the biggest problem with the memoir: it doesn't stand alone. But calling this a problem may be simply a matter of perspective. What single work of any writer stands alone? I still wish there weren't so many untied ends, though. 

Their presence prevents me from knowing whether a lack I see in the storytelling would be solved by supplying it from an earlier memoir or if it really is missing. The problem is this: The memoir is dealing with Karr's finding sobriety after years of drunkenness and depression--specifically sobriety via Alcoholics Anonymous, with a kicking-and-screaming arrival at trust in a Higher Power which finally leads her to Catholicism. Now, the book contains plenty about the wretchedness of being a desperate addicted alcoholic trying to claw her way out of an unbearable life situation, but precious little depiction of the earlier phase where drinking alcohol provides a high, exhilaration, a sense of invincibility. Even the younger Mary is at best verklempt. And yet the exhilaration and fun and adventure is referred to as something lost. Except that alcoholism runs in her family and she has pain to get away from, I just didn't feel like I got to know enough about why she became dependent on alcohol in the first place.

If I were to be writing about agreeing to take meds to control bipolar mania, I would want to talk about how mania was making life unmanageable and leading to ever deepening depressions for sure, but I would also want to talk about the experience of the manic high and why it is so hard to give up.  

One last comment, which sort of fits under the information not disclosed rubric: Karr sure makes an awful lot of comments about weight and thinness. She even lists thinness as the number one reason for why she's not the most suffering of afflicted people--ahead of being white, intelligent, HIV-negative... She mentions her own weight going up and mostly down, repeatedly, and depicts herself denying herself food and forcing herself to exercise. The anorectic in the mental hospital is the only one referred to as beautiful, consistently.  So what next? A memoir about her eating disorder? Not meaning to be mean...but it seems like there's something there and she's playing it coy.

And now I'm going away to think more about why this was such a quick and easy and even compelling read for me, even though aspects of the crafting drove me crazy and I didn't especially care about the character. If I could figure that out, I'd really know something about the intangibles of good writing. Answers in the comments, please! (As well as please tell me what to do about the 13,907 comments waiting for me here, all of them likely spam save maybe a half dozen?!)

Psychiatrists as Pieces of Toast?

Well, what am I going to say? Why has it taken me a whole week to write a post? The weather has been unremittingly gorgeous, and I have been unremittingly tired. And busy. And tired. Just finished a whole bunch of editing and am excited to be writing more, thinking about my thesis! I'm excited for the Kachemak Bay Writers Conference, which starts this coming Friday. The keynote speaker is someone I've dearly wanted to meet and know for years now. We would have so much to talk about; I so hope I do get to talk with her.

Almost more importantly, I'm excited I get to go at all.

This time last year, I was at Foie Gras Farm, and I was missing the conference I'd been so looking forward. to. Yes, it's been over a year. And obviously I'm doing at least somewhat better, since I'm here. But how much better are we all doing? I was "inside" a couple weeks ago on the actual anniversary of going down to AZ. Several of my cohorts have gone back inside. The person with whom I've kept the most in touch was doing extremely badly last time we talked and is no longer answering her phone, which is pretty darn scary.

(And not too long ago at all, I was walking on this lake with the dogs.) How I'm doing with the food thing is much much better than last year. Maybe that's not always saying a whole lot but really, it is. I've become expert at showing the weight they want to see but have been 'rumbled' on that a couple times in the Place of No Shoelaces where you don't get to be in charge of preparing for the scale.My lithium levels are good, so I maintain (ha!) that my weight is fine.

And now, I'm about to make a gluten and animal-product-containing analogy. Stand by, and see if you can see these little fish in the unfrozen lake.

Imagine five toast "soldiers" off the same piece of bread dipped into runny egg yolk. If they all get soggy at the same rate, it wouldn't be surprising, right? Now imagine five "toast" soldiers from five different kinds of bread--white bread, wholegrain bread, sprouted multigrain bread, gluten free bread, manna bread, dipped into the runny egg yolk. If these ones all get soggy at the same rate, it might say something objective about the specific viscosity of the yolk, right?

Okay. If you have a mole on your back and five different dermatologists in different places and with different characters say it's a melanoma, would you be inclined to believe them? Are they five different kinds of bread or from a single slice?

Now. If you have certain mental health issues and five different psychiatrists say you need to be taking a certain class of medication in addition to what you're taking already, would you be inclined to believe them? Are they soldiers all from one piece of toast, or might they differ with their respective age, gender, location, training, approach?

I've had the same strong recommendation from five psychs now. Maybe six. With support from other kinds of practitioners too. I would much rather not add a medication and I would much rather not add this class. But then I remember I was against going on lithium, and it's been a godsend. But I wasn't already on other meds then. Okay, actually I was. Still. Why is it different when five dermatologists or surgeons or oncologists tell you the same thing on the one hand and when it's to do with your mental health on the other?

Since mental health issues are now known to have physiological components that can be seen on brain scans and verified in terms of chemistry, many doctors and therapists are encouraging people to think of treatment for these conditions as analogous to treatment for asthma or diabetes or cancer or other chronic health conditions. The fact that there's a continuum from migraines to bipolar to schizophrenia to epilepsy in terms of commonly used medications, the difference only being in the dosage, also strongly suggests the reality and commonality of these conditions. I have to keep telling myself this; the "it's all in your head" story is so strongly ingrained.

With all these conditions also, the meds don't carry all the weight. With all these conditions, whether they're perceived as primarily mental or primarily physiological, it's important to take care of things like diet and exercise, good relationships, a healthy spiritual practice, and other nurturing and healing ways of being. She says.

That said, sometimes in order to be able to do that, you need help getting your chemistry into that space.

I haven't decided to go on this medication for sure. But I do have a prescription. And I do think these advisers come from different pieces of toast; they're not all cut from the same slice. It's been a long time since I've gone on a medication and been in a position to blog about it. If I do go on it, I might just share, if it sounds like something interesting. Wanna see what happens?

Seven Lessons from a Visiting Writer

Last night (Wednesday night--as the light palpably returns, it's easy to burn the candle at both ends), Boise based fiction writer Alan Heathcock gave a reading and informal talk at the college. It was the easy informality of a small town's dedicated community of writers who all know each other; also the special intimacy of a small audience. The roads, rain upon snow upon ice, prohibited many from venturing out. 

From Alan's website. He doesn't really look like this at all. He has much more beard, but also a bigger, more expressive mouth. Different hat and glasses too. He looks much younger than this photo.

From finding out about the event to showing up to the event itself to the bar afterward to going home, working late, and digesting, I felt enriched. Aside from Alan's engaging candor, immediate sincerity, unabashed passion, which produced an easy familiarity of conversation despite the fact that I believe none of us, Alan included, are particularly gregarious people...aside from feeling like we'd been gifted a new friend, I felt I'd gained some important lessons.

Lesson (1): Pay attention to news sources in the local community. I heard about Alan's visit from my friend Lynn in Anchorage, and that's not the first time she's tipped me off to a Homer event. Because I'm the round-up coordinator for the literary blog 49 Writers, I tend to presume, nay, expect that people will feed me any literary happenings in town to put in the round-up. Turns out many people in town consider 49 Writers a source for statewide rather than local literary information. "Well, it's advertised on the radio, it's in the newspaper, there are flyers up at the Library," they say. I don't listen to the radio or read the newspaper; some days I don't make it out of the cabin and its immediate surroundings. I'm woefully disconnected to local newsfeeds, and I should have my feelers out for events to post, rather than assuming I'm at the center of the web and will be fed announcements, neatly cocooned like flies. Speaking of the web, the local newspapers are well represented online, so there's really no excuse. A new habit for me: pay more attention to what my friends are doing. So, be where you are, and pay attention.

But, lesson (2), be willing to expand from your "local" zone. Alan was raised in urban South Chicago, but he says that during his MFA, he received consistent feedback that his stories set there seemed inauthentic, largely because of reader bias insisting that he was not from that demographic. "Write what you know," they would always say. Alan performed his marvelous full-body face-scrunched-open shrug--well, it is what I know... But, he listened, and began setting stories in rural Indiana, where his mom was raised, and things began to fall into place in terms of audience response.

But (3) insist on your own sense of what is right--he gave some examples of instances in which he would not compromise, particularly in the context of a movie adaptation of a story, and also underscored the importance of knowing who you are, including your family of origin (he read some stunning excerpts from the journal of his great-great-great-great-great grandfather); of getting to know the pulse of your own creativity, the way things come out of your mouth.

Therefore, (4) be proud of what you send out into the world! He said it was easy, during his MFA,  to feel like he was in a race, with huge pressure to rack up publications. So, he sent something off, and the thing got accepted, but when it came to galleys he was horrified. He had no pride in the story whatsoever, didn't want anyone to see it ever, is still ashamed of it, says "don't read this." Thereafter, he published just five more stories over the next dozen years. And now his collection Volt is out (and has won a Whiting award, which is no small thing, but which he barely mentioned). If he's going to publish a story, he wants to be so excited about it that he'll be standing up (again, with one of his wonderful physical postures) and proclaiming, "You gotta read this story!"

To get to that point, (5) when he's starting work on a story he tries to get all the words down asap, all the bare bones structure and start-to-finish through-line, and then he goes back and does the hard work on it so that every single sentence feels "correct." He doesn't analyze in great detail this sense of correctness; he keeps going back to instinct, which is also belief in and respect for oneself, which is about developing the most finely tuned ear, and a gut response to your own voice. 

At the bar, we talked with more hilarity and less restraint about his writing habits and our own, and one additional message that struck me (6) was the value of getting into the piece of writing (no matter the genre) with your whole self. Full body, more than chewing a pen or scratching a hole in your head. As I've suggested a few times, one of the most impressive things about Alan is his full-bodied self, especially when he talks; even more especially when he reads. He moves with the narrative as if miming a map of the story. When he reads, it sounds like he's singing the Blues--his voice so melodic, the cadences of his phrases so much the theme and variation of a Blues riff--bo daa daa daa-bo daa daa -- bo daa daa daa-bo daa daa -- -- -- bo daa daa daa daa dabodabodaboda bo daa daa. 
Yes, he said in explicit words that we're all "eggheads" (guilty giggles) but that we need to get into it in a more felt way. But the fact that he not only said it but did it was the amazing thing.

One final, wonderful lesson, (7), and this is about parenting, but is also hugely inspirational to anyone, parent or not. Alan shared that he has a sixteen-year-old son who is an extremely talented musician--jazz piano and singing, already somewhat in demand, likely to be competed for by the top music conservatories rather than the other way round. Family members are asking what his "fallback" career plan is, because music should just be a hobby, of course. Alan told (miming with his body, of course) of his absolute insistence that there is no fallback plan. If his son wants to be a musician, that's what he is aiming at, full body, full mind, full spirit, and that is what he is going to believe in, and that is what he is going to do. What are you talking about, "fallback plan?" He is, and is going to be, a musician.
I restrain myself from further comment, and offer, simply, a standing ovation.