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The Vine: May 15, 2009

Submitted by on May 15, 2009 – 10:21 AM62 Comments

FYI: Wednesday Vines will return next week.   I happened to have cross-country flights on each of the last two Wednesdays, and forgot to mention it here, but the service interruption is a temporary one.   Sorry for any confusion or consternation.

And now, your regularly scheduled Ask The Readers entry.

*****

Dear Sarah,

My brother M (and I, to a lesser but still significant degree) endured some of the most bloodcurdling childhood abuse we’ve ever heard of.Take the film Nobody Knows, throw in Angela’s Ashes, Mommie Dearest, and A Child Called It, and you might begin to scratch the surface of the poverty, abuse, neglect, deprivation, torture, and isolation our sociopathic mother subjected us to.

My late therapist, who was a PTSD specialist, told me that he’d never even read case studies that came close to that kind of horror and actually compared my mother to Hitler. Yay for happy childhood memories!

A few months ago, at age twenty-six, M began writing a memoir of his childhood. Initially, it was just an attempt at catharsis, but as the stories unfold he’s beginning to think that he might want to try to publish it. He’d like to develop his storytelling abilities (describing his current writing style as encyclopedic) so that his memories are put forth in a rich and three-dimensional way.

He wants the reader to get an honest sense of who our mother wasto us — not just the abhorrent parts of her that eventually led us to sever contact in late adolescence, but also the parts that were charismatic and funny and beautiful and for years inspired our love and devotion despite the pain she inflicted on us.

I’ve suggested that he read as many books as he can get his hands on (both fiction and nonfiction) that deal with similar material to get a feel for the devices that those authors use that he finds effective. Not to rip them off, but just to begin the process of consciously shaping his own style.

So we finally arrive at the question: Do you (or your readers) have any suggestions for books that he should be adding to his must-read list? I believe this is an important project for him, even if it results only in having an unpublished record of what he survived.

With gratitude,

Proud Big Sister

Dear Sis,

I’m actually in the middle of Son of a Grifter right now, which is about Sante and Kenny Kimes and is by Sante’s older son, Kent Walker, the one who turned out relatively normally.It’s not notably well-written, but it might be helpful to M based on what Walker is trying to do — to explain what it was like growing up with Sante, why it took him so long to cut her out of his life, how anyone could love her.

I would also suggest Elie Wiesel.It’s the second time I’ve recommended him on TN this week, for slightly different reasons, but he’s very good at filtering the level of horror so that we get enough information to understand the reality without feeling overwhelmed. M might also find Roald Dahl’s memoirs helpful, tonally.

This is a good example of what not to do.

These suggestions come from a writing/reading standpoint, obviously, because the closest my parents got to abuse was not letting me watch Dukes of Hazzard, which in retrospect was really a mitzvah, so as far as firsthand understanding, I can’t really speak to that.Let’s see what the readers have to add.

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62 Comments »

  • petitechica says:

    The Glass Castle, by Jeannette Walls, springs immediately to mind.

  • RJ says:

    Sis –

    I don’t often read books like you describe because they’re so heartbreaking. I read parts of “A Child Called It,” and I read “Mommie Dearest” (although in all honesty I took that one with a grain of salt).

    But I think it’s fantastic that your brother is doing what he’s doing, and I hope he’s successful. I’m sorry I don’t have any suggestions, but I did want to offer encouragement!

  • felicitythistle says:

    I strongly recommend Caroline See’s “Dreaming: Hard Luck and Good Times in America”. I have by now bought something like 10 copies of it over the years because I keep giving it to people.

    Part of her focus is writing about the role drugs and alcohol played in her family, which may not be the thing your family struggled with, but one of the things I thought was extraordinary about this book was the depiction of her mother, a woman who essentially destroyed her younger sister’s life. You come away from the book horrified, and yet also with the sense of her mother as a three dimensional person, who struggled ferociously to be someone/something more than her life allowed her to be …

  • Mercutio says:

    Patty Duke’s memoir affected me powerfully. I felt she had a very good bead on her foster parents–their motives/fears/craziness. And anything by Augusten Burroughs.

  • Bev says:

    My first impulse was that it would be better for M to start writing. It is SO easy to read, and call it research compared to writing. There is something I find in writing, where first i get in down on paper ( now on computer) then make decisions about which of the many styles I used work best with the material. Sorry, I know that doesn’t answer your question, but maybe it will be a useful thought anyway.

  • c8h10n4o2 says:

    I just finished Augusten Burroughs’ “The Wolf at the Door” (I’m too lazy to remember html italicization methods), which paired with “Running with Scissors” Gives a bit of the “both sides of the coin” horror/humor take at the situation. And it’s pretty well written in my eyes.

  • I’d also recommend “The Glass Castle: A Memoir” by Jeannette Walls. It’s a fabulous read…well-written and with a great story about the author’s own bizarre childhood experiences and how they have contributed to who she is today.

    Actually, I’d recommend it to anyone, but it seems especially appropriate for this situation. It’s one of my favorite books of the last couple of years.

  • BetsyD says:

    I’m so sorry for what you both endured, and I hope your brother’s writing is cathartic for both of you.

    I think a major stylistic decision is whether or not to write from a present perspective. That is, do you write in the voice of a child, or an adult looking back, or something in between? Angela’s Ashes, Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha, and The Speckled People are all examples of memoirs/novels written in the voice of the child, and they are powerful because they show the child’s reasoning for, for example, loving the parent.

    I think The Liar’s Club is a beautiful memoir of childhood, and Drinking: A Love Story and The Year of Magical Thinking are beautiful examples of compelling memoirs.

  • J says:

    My brother, an English professor, recommends The Situation and the Story: The Art of Personal Narrative by Vivian Gornick (Amazon at http://tinyurl.com/rbv2kl) – as a reference about the process of writing an effective memoir. It could be a good compliment to the excellent memoirs I’m sure will be recommended here – helping him understand why what he likes works and why other things don’t.

    Good luck to him, and congrats to both of you for surviving a difficult childhood, and getting the help you need as adults.

  • Elyse says:

    Count a third for The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls.

  • ferretrick says:

    From the fictional side of things, I’d recommend Pat Conroy, especially The Prince of Tides and The Great Santini. Warning, Conroy has a tendency to go laughably over the top with a story (i.e. the family’s pet tiger eating escaped convict rapists. Yes, that happens). But, at his best, Conroy’s writing is poetic, eloquent, and moving and the characterizations are excellent. His works are fiction but they also supposed to be highly autobiographical (last I heard, one of his sisters has not spoken to him since the publication of Tides). I’d suggest him for a good insight into how to pull off the voice of an adult reflecting on a horrible childhood.

  • Merideth says:

    These are both teen fiction books, but two novels that I felt really nailed the voices of abuse survivors are The Rules of Survival by Nancy Werlin and Living Dead Girl by Elizabeth Scott.

    These books cover very different situations, but both give a vivid portrait of both the abuser and the abused, and why no-one would intervene in the lives of these characters.

  • Kim W. says:

    I’d actually caution you AGAINST reading too much of this one specific kind of memoir, and instead try to read memoirs in general.

    Memoirs such as this are undergoing a sort of vogue now, which on the one hand works to your advantage; but on the other hand, has produced a flood of books that may be somewhat…exaggerated. It’s like the literary equivalent of the Monty Python FOUR YORKSHIREMEN sketch —

    “I was forced to drink bleach!”

    “….well…I was forced to drink BOILING bleach!”

    “That’s nothing! I was forced to drink boiling bleach MIXED WITH ANTIFREEZE!”

    “Well, I was forced to drink boiling bleach mixed with antifreeze and then …prevented from peeing!”

    You know. So my hunch is that if you confine yourself to only this kind of memoir you may miss the point of writing a good memoir, which is what I think you’re more after.

  • tulip says:

    The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls was a good example (I thought) of writing in this genre. The Tender Bar by J.R. Moehringer was another. Neither of these comes close to the level of, I would assume, horror but they are both good examples of difficult childhoods told with a compassionate but realistic tone.
    Good luck to both of you.

  • Leigh says:

    I thought immediately of The Glass Castle and Augusten Burroughs too, for what it’s worth (haven’t read Wolf at the Door, but I love everything else).

  • Jen S says:

    It’s not a memoir, but White Oleander paints a vivid fictional portrait of a teenage girl with a monsterous asthestic narcissist of a mother, and the twisted path she hast to follow to finde her own balance in a world that seems to prefer her mother to her.

  • La BellaDonna says:

    Sis, I don’t have much to offer except my heartfelt “congratulations” on both of you surviving, and my earnest well-wishes for you both. I would suggest checking out violentacres dot com; less for the writing style, perhaps, then for the reassurance that it really WASN’T just you. I know that sometimes one of the worst feelings a survivor can have is just dealing with the disbelief of other people, who don’t want to believe it was really as awful as you remember. V makes her voice heard, and it’s a voice worth listening to.

  • Lisa says:

    http://www.amazon.com/Broken-Child-Marcia-Cameron/dp/0821748262

    While the writer wrote the book because she is/was a sufferer of Multiple Personality Disorder (or Dissociative Identity Disorder, as it’s known now) but it is an excellent chronicle of child abuse from the perspective of the child.

  • JenV says:

    I just have to say I did a serious double-take when I read the part of this Vine letter in front of the cut and then immediately noticed that the first tag is Dukes of Hazzard. I was like, “What?!? Where the hell is this going?”

  • JC says:

    Although I don’t think it rises to the same level of what you’re describing, I’d recommend “This Boy’s Life” by Tobias Wolff. His childhood is probably closer to “cruddy” than “horrific,” but he’s one of my all-time favorite writers, and it’s a great memoir.

  • Kat C says:

    Put down a fourth for the Glass Castle. I loved that book, in large part because the author managed to paint her parents as interesting, complex characters, even as they made terrible choices and did shocking things to their kids. And now for something completely different: I would also recommend Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, by David Sedaris. Not a story of abuse, but rich protrayals of family relationships, and some very awkard times. Also, a good break from the more traumatic memoirs.

    Best of luck to you and your brother.

  • Sarah D. Bunting says:

    @JenV: Yeah, immediately followed by “Elie Wiesel.” Oops.

  • AHT says:

    Sickened: The Story of Lost Childhood by Julie Gregory. Her mother had Munchausen by Proxy.

    And yes, The Glass Castle as well. I also know of a memoir by a woman, I can’t remember her name, but the book is called When Rabbit Howls. She was on Oprah years ago. I still remember watching it, she endured abuse so severe she claims to have developed Multiple Personality Disorder. I never read the book, but it comes to mind.

  • Jaybird says:

    Just finished re-reading Nuala O’Faolain’s “Are You Somebody?” and my eyes are still swollen. It isn’t so much a memoir of abuse as neglect and alcoholism, but it does manage to incorporate all that, and her adult experiences, into a fairly well-rounded (but agonizingly heartbreaking) book. Then, when you Google her and find out she’s dead and now will NEVER find love, you can cry some more. I mean, *I* can.

    I’m also extremely sorry for what was inflicted on you and your brother, Proud Big Sister.

  • Stephanie E says:

    Bastard Out of Carolina. How much is fiction and how much is memoir I’m not sure, but based on other things Dorothy Allison has written, I’d say closer to memoir.

  • Tashi says:

    Here is another in support of The Glass Castle. I recommend it for anyone who is going through any sort of difficulty (now, in the past, or future.) I heard her speak soon after finishing the book and she is downright inspirational and I don’t say that about many people.

    I wish you and your brother the best of luck.

  • Fellmama says:

    @JC: I thought of Tobias Wolff immediately as well. I especially thought of Wolff because his brother, Geoffrey, also wrote a memoir (The Duke of Deception). Reading the two is an interesting exercise in how two people from the same family–although frequently separated–make sense of their childhoods.

  • Linda says:

    This will sound weird, but I recommend listening to the incredibly moving piece Dan Savage read about the death of his mother on This American Life a couple of weeks ago. It’s part of this show:

    http://thisamericanlife.org/Radio_Episode.aspx?sched=1294

    His mother was not abusive at all, but the piece is an amazing example of how to write things that are incredibly emotional and moving without collapsing into cliched sentiment. I have many issues with Dan Savage, but I admired the heck out of this piece, and it really made me admire him for being, if nothing else, fearless about doing lots of kinds of writing: sweet and dirty and sentimental and kind and unkind. And for the purposes of this question, I agree with those who have said it should be about more than just reading about abusive childhoods; it should also be about reading writers who are good at expressing difficult and complex emotions with great clarity. And for that: this Dan Savage piece.

  • Sandman says:

    I might suggest Me Talk Pretty One Day. As Kat C notes, Sedaris’s story is certainly not one of abuse, but, as funny as his work is (and it can be breathtakingly hilarious), he’s good at suggesting the complex and singular mixture of pain, disappointment and tenderness that marks the love of every family. As to the fiction already mentioned, Conroy’s novels, especially Santini and The Prince of Tides are superior to the movie versions by at least an order of magnitude. No, seriously.

    “not letting me watch Dukes of Hazzard, which in retrospect was really a mitzvah”

    Hee. A “someday you’ll thank me” moment if ever there was one.

  • AKN says:

    All the Fishes Come Home to Roost, by Rachel Manija Brown, might also be worth a look.

  • Natalie says:

    Again, The Glass Castle and agreed on The Liars Club (Cherry would work too but there was more in The Liars Club). Different subject but still deeply personal and intense is Lucky by Alice Sebold.

  • k says:

    Shot Through the Heart by Mikal Gilmore is pretty un-fun stuff but I did read to the end and it seems to fit the criteria.

  • Ted says:

    Sis: I second recommending reading memoirs in general, especially since the issue is keeping a narrative. I recommend Augusten Burroughs highly, but I actually think Dry was his best memoir – it touches on his childhood in various parts, but it’s mainly about him going through rehab.

    Personally – and with all my own predisposition to it – I’d recommend finding a writing class/course/session/what-have-you done in Story Workshop format. Given that that isn’t as widespread as I’d like it to be, and acknowledging that I hate most writing books (I’m not even going to speak of Stephen King here), I recommend John Schultz’s Writing From Start To Finish. The Story Workshop format focuses on you (or, in this case, your brother) telling the story rather than mechanics and techniques and all that crap.

  • Jenn says:

    For abuse: Janine Latus’ If I Am Missing or Dead

    For memoir tone, etc.: Julia Scheeres’ Jesus Land (which also features some abuse), David Sheff’s Beautiful Boy

  • t.alice says:

    I agree with Kim W. – if M only reads the really traumatic memoir, he’s going to become highly entrenched in the pain and may miss that dimension that shows the beauty and your mother’s more compelling side. I think memoir as a whole is a good way of looking at one’s self and how to communicate it. Obviously some stories will have more of an impact than others, but still – great material. Also agreeing with JC: Tobias Wolff’s memoir is really good. David Sedaris is always a fun default who can put the most awkward of situations in a hilarious light.

    That said, Alice Sebold’s “Lucky” is an interesting view on how she dealt with rape, and Kathryn Harrison’s “The Kiss,” which is the story of a woman whose father left her when she was little, and later in life when they met, they become involved in an incestuous relationship. The latter, especially, shows the love that had been built, even in the midst of something dysfunctional, and the reader’s also given a great illustration of the father. The list could go on and on, but this is my Writing major side geeking out, so I’ll leave it at this.

  • JenV says:

    Me five for Glass Castle. I love that book.

    I also concur with the David Sedaris recommend. I love the way he writes about his family and the way he captures how truly weird people are. Most of his books have stories of his childhood, but I seem to recall Naked has quite a lot of them. And I don’t remember which book has the story of his mom’s death, but that one is a really touching balance of sweet and funny.

  • Elizabeth says:

    Ruth Reichl’s Tender at the Bone is something to look at from a stylistic perspective — it’s primarily a memoir of the author’s relationship with food, but worked into the narrative is her family’s struggle with her bipolar mother. The mother is not abusive, but she stands out as both charismatic and intensely flawed, and Reichl has a talent for rich description.

    I concur with others who say not to focus solely on narratives of abuse, partly for the reasons mentioned, and partly because a wide variety of childhood memoirs will provide better examples of the color and dimension your brother’s looking to impart to his writing. Of course, any good books will help contribute to that end, so by all means encourage him to read all kinds of stuff. The more influences he has, the less likely he is to copy any one of them.

  • Jim Donaldson says:

    I’d recommend “The Liars’ Club” by Mary Karr. Not Hitleresque, but a very unusual childhood with eccentric and destructive parents.

  • Bitts says:

    I’m going to be a voice in the wilderness and vote AGAINST “Glass Castle.” Though the story is fascinating, I found the style very off-putting — Wells is clearly a journalist which, in this case, did not translate well to long-form narrative. I was also left feeling less than sympathetic toward her as an adult … possibly because I didn’t think she was much of a writer. Regardless, 1.5 thumbs down, over here.

  • Sarah D. Bunting says:

    Going to have to disagree with @AHT; that’s the book I said not to use as a guide. Should have been gripping; instead was annoying. Weak editing was likely the culprit, but if you’re looking for strong examples of *writing* in the genre, I’d skip that one.

  • Candy says:

    Oh wow, Linda, that Dan Savage piece killed me. So, so sad. Thanks for that link.

  • Ash says:

    I would like put forward my seconding of all 3 @t.alices’s suggestions of Wolff (which is all @JC), Sedaris, Sebold. As well as Sars addition of Dahl. Definitely Dahl. Those were the first four authors that popped to mind. I think the strength of all four is that they do not shy away from the grotesqueness of humanity and trust the reader to find the balance. They are searingly truthful with the good and bad. They position their voice completely in the present of what the character is going through at the time and at the character’s level of life experience. Therefore avoiding any judgement/analysis of hindsight.

    I would like to add that I am suggesting this from a reader point of view. I am in no way a writer. So for me, as a reader, the best writing of this sort of difficult topic is where I don’t feel the author is trying to stear me in a particular direction or judgement of a character. They trust me and afford me the luxury to find out about this person, particularly an abusive one, myself. If you brother trusts his voice, is truthful with direct simple elegant language, doesn’t try to trick or manoever his reader….he will be fine.

    I’d like to also add I think it is courageous of him to do this. And courageous of you to support him. Even if this comes down to an experience of catharsis and healing for the both of you, I believe it is terrific. I hope this doesn’t sound patronising but well done the two of you for surviving and beyond. Really. Well done.

  • Pippi says:

    “He wants the reader to get an honest sense of who our mother was to us — not just the abhorrent parts of her that eventually led us to sever contact in late adolescence, but also the parts that were charismatic and funny and beautiful and for years inspired our love and devotion despite the pain she inflicted on us.”

    This is admirable. I don’t have any useful suggestions for models but if you do go to publish please please please don’t let them put your brother’s work anywhere near the ‘misery memoir’ market (seriously, that’s the term they get listed under in bookselling catelogues), which Kim W. already discussed, purely because these books get treated as homogeneous, and they get dismissed, and I’m sure your story deserves more dignity than this.

    http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-486478/The-pornography-misery-memoirs.html

  • Jen S says:

    A second recommendation, this time for a writing guide, Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott. I love her stuff in general (and Operating Instructions is a great read for a memoir-type record of raising her son as a single parent) but her writing guide is both hilarious and truly useful.

  • Big Sis says:

    I just wanted to thank all of you for your time and suggestions, which demonstrate once again that the TN readership is not only literate but also insightful and generous. You’ve given Little Brother a lot to consider and we are truly grateful.

  • Erin W says:

    I’m with Bitts–did not like The Glass Castle at all. In fact, “encyclopedic” is probably how I would have described her prose if I had thought of it: “I was six and then this happened.” “Then I was seven and this happened.” I think David Sedaris is great; he can spin significance out of anything; I’d call Annie Dillard the gold standard of creative nonfiction, although she doesn’t tend to write about characters so much as leaves on trees and whatnot. An American Childhood has some good stuff about her family, though.

    My real recommendation, though, is sort of a hybrid memoir-writing manual, Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. It’s got tons of information about writing, but it’s also true to Lamott’s life (as far as I know) so it’s a model memoir, as well. Bird by Bird: http://tiny.cc/3qaYB

  • anotherkate says:

    Although it’s not a true story, “Sarah” and “The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things” by JT Leroy are both gripping, I really admired how much was conveyed with such simple phrasing. Also “Gemma” and “Singing Songs” by Meg Tilly are good. Gemma is fiction but Singing Songs is a fictionalized account of Tilly’s awful childhood. Also, The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini is just a great book, and the author is unflinching in his acknowledgement of his own flaws. I agree that reading in general is better than restricting yourself to one genre though; your brother definitely wouldn’t want to be accused of plagiarism.

  • Shannon says:

    Late to the party but wanted to chime in with William Zinsser’s Writing About Your Life for technique and to highly concur with the recommendation for Sedaris, particularly “The Youth in Asia” in Me Talk Pretty One Day. I cannot get through that essay without laughing so hard my stomach hurts and then subsequently crying so much my head hurts.

  • Bactria says:

    For fictional perspectives from a long time ago – Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte and Mansfield Park by Jane Austen. There is no physical abuse in the latter, but the constant persecution by Mrs Norris and then the description of life with Fanny’s original family show the various kinds of suffering a child can endure, superbly written. More recently, The Bone Flute by Nicole Bourke is a bit grisly, but effective.

  • robin says:

    The Glass Castle was the first book that popped into my head while reading this request. Also, selected sections of The Ciderhouse Rules and of The Secret life of Bees, both of these novels touch on family relations gone horribly wrong. I agree with the recommendation of The Great Santini, definitely the book is far better than the movie. And just for the sake of a well-rounded fiction background, let’s not forget those two masterpieces of English & American literature: Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens, and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain.
    Whatever he winds up reading, using, or writing, I hope that Brother and his Sis will be well.

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