| August 16, 1998 The Stone Diaries by
Carol Shields (1994). Possibly the most intriguing book
I've read this year. The Stone Diaries tells the story of the life
of Daisy Goodwill, from before her birth to after her death. Yet Daisy's life, though
interesting in its own way, is not what you might expect of a literary heroine, and the
book itself is not really a novel as much as it is a finely-woven collection of viewpoints
and documents. What makes this book fascinating to me is the way Shields explores
the idea of how we are defined by ourselves and by those around us, how we make meaning of
our lives through the narratives we create about ourselves and others.
As Daisy's life unfolds, we are left to make sense of it
through the words of those around her, both intimate friends and mere acquaintances.
Daisy herself finds a voice for a span of ten years in the middle of her life -- but only
through the persona of "Mrs. Green Thumb," a garden columnist for the Ottowa Recorder.
Yet even her own voice conflicts with the others telling her story, and one wonders
whether any one voice can truly be privileged in the retelling of a life. And
finally, what is left? This book provides an opportunity for reflection on
questions that I find most absorbing.
Naked by
David Sedaris. Naked, a perfect counterpoint
to The Stone Diaries, is a memoir by David Sedaris that sends up the
genre while asking some of the same questions that Carol Shields asks: how do we make
sense of our lives? Who tells the "true" stories of who we are? Who
defines what our experiences mean?
Basically, Naked is a collection of
loosely-connected chapters detailing some of the events of one man's life. Sometimes
the stories are belly-laugh funny, sometimes they're sad, and sometimes they're
disgusting. But almost all of them are over the top in one way or another.
Because of this, I kept forgetting that the book is presented as a "memoir," and
every time I remembered that it was, I wondered, "How much of this is
true?" I found myself wishing for another point of view, someone who could
verify or disprove the outrageous stories Sedaris was passing off as his life.
But the real question is, I think, "Why does that
matter?" We make sense of the world through the flawed lenses of our own eyes
and minds. All of us create the stories of our lives through the narratives we tell
ourselves and others. As long as there is language, this will be true. Sedaris
makes this point again and again in this entertaining and poignant book.
Thanks to Katynka for sending this book to me, even if
she did it mostly because she knew I'd like the cover illustration -- a photo of a pair of
men's boxer shorts. (I think she knows me too well.)
The Liar
by Stephen Fry. The multi-talented Stephen Fry (Wooster of
TV's Jeeves and Wooster) published his first novel, The Liar, in
1991. The protagonist is a public school boy who grows up to attend Cambridge and
finds himself in the thick of an international intrigue. It's a clever and funny
story of uncovering the truth -- and the not-truth -- to see what lies underneath.
And yes, the answer to that is mostly lies.
Fry is a witty, intelligent storyteller who uses plot and
narrative in creative ways -- starting the story at two different points, unfolding the
plot in several non-chronological sections, finally bringing them all together seamlessly
by the end of the book. I laughed aloud in places, but I also found his descriptive
passages on Cambridge -- the river Cam along the backs, in particular -- evocative and
true. And really, who can resist such similes as this:
'A good wine is like a woman,' he said. 'Except of
course it doesn't have breasts. Or arms and a head. And it can't speak or bear
children. In fact, come to think of it, a good wine isn't remotely like a woman at
all. A good wine is like a good wine.'
Crooked
Little Heart by Anne Lamott. The sequel to Rosie
by Anne Lamott, who has become one of my favorite writers in the past year. I was so
happy to see these characters again, Elizabeth and her new husband, James, and of course
Rosie. A funny family, as Rosie says, but one I think is strong and beautiful.
Rosie is on the verge of becoming a teenager; she's playing competitive tennis and
learning about dealing with the world. She finds out some ugly truths about herself,
and about the world around her, and discovers that danger can come from places you'd never
expect. But she also finds that grace and mercy can come from unlikely places,
too. And that's something that we could all stand to learn. Like its prequel,
this novel is full of those bright moments where Lamott presents the perfect detail, and
the story itself is real and lovely. |
