Thursday, 12 June 2014

In defence of memoirs

I read an interesting article recently about whether people think memoirs are self indulgent. To be honest, I happened upon the post because I typed in the words, “are memoirs self indulgent?”

It is something the voices in my head are constantly whispering to me as I slog away at the first draft of my own memoir. Self indulgent. Self serving. Who do you think you are?

Illustration copyright Matt Clare at Mono Design
The general consensus on the site seemed to be that the people who didn’t like memoirs had problems believing that others could remember with perfect clarity conversations they had 30 years ago.

Fair point.

I liked Katie L’s response to the topic… “First, as opposed to autobiography, which is told chronologically and must be strictly accurate in terms of dates and events, memoir is a literary retelling of real life events. It is more concerned with “emotional” truth than historical accuracy. This doesn’t mean that a memoirist can just make stuff up, but it’s okay for scenes and conversations to be dramatized for literary effect, so long as the emotional content remains true and it’s basically consistent with actual events. Like fiction, memoir is concerned with literary themes and is crafted with a strong narrative arc (at least good memoir is).”

I have loved memoir ever since I read Helen Keller’s autobiography in primary school and have read hundreds of memoirs since that time.

I feel this genre offers readers a rare chance to deeply explore the way another person has lived in and thought about the world. Opportunities to have these conversations face-to-face don’t happen often enough for my liking.

The real-life forces that shape a person have always been a personal obsession of mine. I have studied counseling, kinesiology and soul-centred psychotherapy (among many other things) because I am desperate to understand why people behave the way they do.

Whether or not someone is able to perfectly recall the exact words another spoke does not diminish a memoir for me as long as I can feel the emotional honesty in the telling. For me, memoir is all about personal truth. It is the way someone remembers people and conversations, inherently influenced by their own agendas, prejudices and emotional state at the time.

I've always been a big fan of Socrates' assertion that "The unexamined life is not worth living." I love that people have examined aspects of their life intensely enough that they have been able to come up with 80,000 words on the topic.

What does everyone else think?

7 comments:

  1. Hi Ruth, I'm very interested in this post on many levels. But I will just choose one dimension to comment on. I agree that 'memory' and 'truth' are subjective and from an individual point of view I have no concerns about people writing memoirs according to how they recall things and even dramatizing them. On a relational level though I wonder what accountability the memoirist needs to hold in terms of the effects on other people recalled in the memories and how stories chosen and how they are told might impact for those other people and their own 'truths'? I'm very interested to hear what you and others think about this. Congratulations on starting this memoir and this project, I look forward to reading it's progress! Troy

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  2. Hi Troy,
    Thanks so much for your insightful response (and for being my first ever comment!). You make a very interesting point and it is certainly something I have grappled with.
    In my case, my father has been dead for a long time and my mother has dementia so I am hoping that any hurt or pain my story has the power to inflict on others will be minimal. As for my brother and sister, I am willing to give them editorial control over the parts in which they are mentioned if they feel I am representing them incorrectly. I have tried as much as possible not to tell their stories and to keep the narrative exclusively from my perspective.
    I think if my Dad had not died so long ago maybe my desire to write this book would not be so strong. I would like to think he would have taken responsibility for his actions and our relationship might have had a chance to heal. But that is not something that happened before he died. Mum has been an alcoholic since I was 11 (it caused her dementia) so the capacity to have any conversations with her has always been minimal.
    In terms of accountability though, I think it works both ways. If a parent is not accountable for their actions, where does that leave the child? Should a child be unable to tell their story because it will hurt the feelings of a parent? If that is so, at what point does the child have the right to own their truth? I think secrets are the breeding ground for shame. When the child is told they can't tell, they are the ones who carry the shame, not the parents.
    I hope this has covered the ground you brought up in your comment. Feel free to come back and discuss it all further if you have any new thoughts/ feelings related to my response.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you Ruth for your considered response, and thanks especially for answering my question (definitely intended as a question rather than a comment or point) in terms of your own experiences.

      I agree very strongly with you that a person should be able to tell their story and to do so without any limitations of secrecy or shame. In my work I make efforts to use narrative practices and these practices very much follow principles that healing and justice are inseparable and part of justice is the opportunity for the person to tell their story in their own way and to be understood in terms of their stories and experiences (you might be interested in the Narrative Therapy Charter of Story-telling Rights at http://www.dulwichcentre.com.au/current-projects.html).

      Your response has definitely answered my question in regard to how you have 'grappled with' and made decisions about the story-telling rights of others affected by these experiences. You have obviously been very considerate of your sister, brother and mother, and it seems you have also thought about the effects for your father. I hope your memoir will have healing effects for all of you, and likely also for some of your readers.

      A quick story that may be of interest to you: I had the privilege to have some conversations with a woman in the later years of her life (sadly she passed away recently) and she told me many stories including some about her father and her very understandable decision to end any contact with him until well after he passed away. It was interesting that as she told her stories it seemed some change in the relationship with her father occurred even though he had long ago passed away. She certainly didn't find forgiveness for her father and didn't desire to, but what she did seem to find was a different understanding of how her father may have seen her (including how important she was to him) and of the circumstances that may have contributed to (but not justified) some of his actions. I wonder if something similar might occur for you as you share your own stories. Feel free to respond but please don't feel obliged :).

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    2. Wow Troy. What absolutely amazing work you do.
      Reading those words... ‘We never separate healing from justice. These go hand-in-hand. We see in our work how justice is a form of healing and how healing is a form of justice.’
      What a profound statement. I have never considered those ideas together but it is exactly how I feel.
      And this... "Narrative therapy defends people’s rights to name their own experiences, to define their own problems, and to honour how their skills, abilities, relationships, history and culture can contribute to reclaiming their lives from the effects of trauma."
      Since I was pregnant with Scarlett eight years ago when all of this stuff came to the surface so fully again I have wrested with whether or not I had the right to my story. The words on The Dulwich Centre website have perfectly described my experience. I am really blown away.
      And I love your story about the older woman you knew. I don't know if anything will ever convince me that I was important to my Dad but I can definitely understand the circumstances that contributed to his actions.
      I make a short reference to his experience in Vietnam in my book. It wasn't something that was ever discussed as we were growing up but I am sure undiagnosed PTSD related to his experience in Vietnam was the reason for his behaviour. I am definitely interested in exploring it further to more fully understand what he went through.
      Related to what you say in the story, I have found that in writing this book I am remembering more moments with him that were loving and I am very grateful for that.
      Thank you so much for sharing your work with me Troy. I am really bowled over by it and will need to spend a lot more time exploring what you do and the organisation you work for.

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  3. Just to clarify Ruth, I don't work for the Dulwich Centre but I have been fortunate to work alongside the people there, they are one key source of inspiration for my work.

    Beautiful to hear you have been able to remember more loving moments. No doubt another important part of your story will be the ways you and your loved ones responded to the more difficult times.

    Can't wait to read about the progress of your stories!

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  4. A good story is still a good story. I love anything written that grabs my attention and I think education is stunted because text books suck for the most part. As humans, we're surrounded by stories and in a memoir you are giving a story based on your life. Strong focus on the word based. Some people beg for accuracy while I beg for a good story and I'm not the only one. i think it's fascinating you're writing a memoir because people have some notions of the requisites of a memoir. To me, a good story goes beyond the facts, burrows deeper into the heart of the matter and provided something as deeply personal as you can get. So cheers and best of luck with your work. :)

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  5. Hey JD,
    Thanks for commenting. I am still on my blogging training wheels and I kind of forget that people out there might be reading : )
    I agree, and I especially like what you say about burrowing into the heart of the matter and making something as deeply personal as you can get.
    I remember all the controversy over the fabricated components of James Frey's, "A million little pieces" even though 95 % of the book was true (as much as anything in life can be described as true).
    His description of his rage and his confusion about his ambivalent/ troubled relationship with his parents were the aspects of his work that blew me away. They rang with deeply felt personal truth. So many other parts of the book as well. To throw the value of the book away because some parts had been made up seemed utterly ridiculous to me. He is a great storyteller.
    Nice talking to you!

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