In the last couple of weeks I’ve read two memoirs and I’ll crack open a third tonight (The House of Hidden Meanings by RuPaul, This American Ex-Wife by
Lenz, and The Manicurist’s Daughter by Susan Lieu). For many years now I’ve actively sought out memoirs for regular reading. It strikes me that memoir appeals to me because it offers a kind of help for the Self. This isn’t the practical guidance of self help as a tool for every day life. It’s more like a map with routes for understanding, knowing, and appreciating our deeper selves.A good memoir draws you in to the life of a completely different person and leaves you feeling a little more able to discern what it means to be a human in fucked up world and to navigate the messy shitstorm of life. It doesn’t really matter how similar your lives are on the outside. I have a lot more in common with Lyz Lenz (a writer, a mother, a divorced, 40-something white woman) than with RuPaul (do I need to spell it out?) but their books both made me ponder grief, friendship, family, art, and freedom.
Part of what interests me about self help is the potential to know myself a little better. Yes, I love a “life hack,” but ultimately I’m looking for something deeper. Needless to say, self help doesn’t always deliver. It can be full of clichés, superficial ideas, and a kind of toxic positivity that might actually mask what’s really going on, either inside you or in a wider system. Still, most self help is also partly memoir; authors tend to share parts of their life stories alongside their advice.
The point of most memoir, though, isn’t to offer generalizable advice. People write them for lots of reasons: to work through their own feelings about their past; to convey their personal perspective on remarkable events; to shed light on human experiences, both mundane and profound. Ultimately, narrativizing a messy life helps both the author and the reader make sense of it.
While not every memoir is a triumphant story of overcoming terrible adversity, most take us on a journey to a better place. That better place might simply be a sense of peace or understanding about the past, it might be newfound happiness, or it might be a scene of outward success and achievement. For me as a reader, I can observe this journey and try to glean some lessons. They won’t be broken down into neat little steps, like a self help manual, but I might get a sense of what helped someone come to terms with grief, heartache, regret, etc.
The House of Hidden Meanings, for example, tells the story of how RuPaul eventually broke into showbiz. Even if I were looking to do the same, any practical tips would not exactly translate from the 1980s queer club scene in Atlanta and NYC to now. What I took away, though, was an emphasis on following your instincts. No one’s path to wherever they end up is linear; there are always setbacks and disappointments. But in Ru’s story (or, at least the way he presents it) the one constant was following his intuition, especially when it came to people. I feel like I’m still trying to connect or reconnect to my own gut. Ru’s book reminded me that this is a worthwhile project.
Lyz Lenz’s book, This American Ex-Wife, about marriage, divorce, and the freedom that comes from escaping the trap of heterosexual marriage and its deadening gender roles, had passages that I could cut and paste into a memoir of my own. It was a little triggering, to be honest! Even though I’m no longer married and don’t need to be told how great divorce can be, Lenz’s writing encouraged me to keep reflecting on questions of labour and mental load in my current relationship. It made me push myself to think about what norms and compromises and assumptions I make about romantic partnerships and living with other people.
I went back through my Goodreads list and found that I’ve read 10 other memoirs since June 2023. I didn’t love every book on this list. Some really irritated me (see my rant about A Life Spent Listening here). Even a memoir can fall into the same traps as self help and come across as trite or patronizing or self-serving. Most of these had something to offer the confused and ever-seeking life traveller (aka me).
Sure, I'll Join Your Cult: A Memoir of Mental Illness and the Quest to Belong Anywhere, by Maria Bamford
A Life Spent Listening, by Hassan Khalili
The Quickening: Creation and Community at the Ends of the Earth, by Elizabeth Rush
You Could Make This Place Beautiful, by Maggie Smith
Pageboy, by Elliot Page
Year of the Tiger: An Activist’s Life, by Alice Wong
The Other Family Doctor: A Veterinarian Explores What Animals Can Teach Us About Love, Life, and Mortality, by Karen Fine
Bad Vibes Only, by Nora McInerny
Truth and Beauty, by Ann Patchett
Quietly Hostile, by Samantha Irby
Most remarkable to me were the books by Rush, Smith, Wong, and Patchett. 4 incredibly different stories, all of which pushed me reckon with difficult feelings about topics such as climate change, bodies, beauty, parenthood, writing, and more.
Memoir has an important place in my interest in self improvement. It’s the hearty meal to self help’s tray of snackable appetizers. If you want a memoir recommendation, leave me a message and I’ll hook you up!
What I’m listening to: One of the ways I learn about memoirs I want to read is from writer and memoirist Dani Shapiro’s podcast Family Secrets, in which she interviews people—some of whom have written memoirs—about, you guessed it, family secrets. Check out her memoir Inheritance if you’ve ever pondered taking a home DNA test (maybe don’t?).
What I’m watching: Julio Torres’ new show on Max, Fantasmas. If you enjoyed Los Espookys, you can go even farther in Julio’s weird and wonderful brain.