The Florist’s Daughter by Patricia Hampl
Release date: 2007 / 227 pages
Synopsis (from jacket cover): During the long farewell of her mother’s dying, Patricia Hampl revisits her Midwestern girlhood. Daughter of a debonair Czech father, whose floral work gave him entree to St. Paul society, and a distrustful Irishwoman with an uncanny ability to tell a tale, she remained, primarily and passionately, a daughter well into adulthood. Hampl traces the arc of faithfulness and struggle that comes with that role — from the postwar years past the turbulent sixties.
First Line: For once, no flowers.
Review: I read this memoir for my book club — the same group that choice The Empress of One — and I must admit that I need a break from Minnesota writers right about now! I have read about Hampl for years (I do live in the Twin Cities, after all) and know that she is greatly respected. I was also intrigued by the quote on the cover by Pat Conroy: “Patricia Hampl writes the best memoirs of any writer in the English language.” Whew… quite high praise!
Well, this is the best written work that I have ever completely and thoroughly not enjoyed. How’s that for a mixed review! I do actually recommmend this, without reservation, to anyone who enjoys memoir or has ever contemplated writing a memoir. However, I was so very glad that it was short and fast and easy to finish.
First, unique to my own situation, I am simply tired of reading about Minnesota right now for a couple of reasons. I’ve realized the charge of myopia that I have frequently directed at New York City writers can be just as true about Minnesota writers.
Just as I really don’t care about the status distinctions between the various avenues in NYC, the awe and respect Hampl had for Summit Avenue seemed stale and limited. Hampl must have mentioned Summit Avenue and Crocus Hill, and the shadow of the Cathedral, on just about every page (and F. Scott Fitzgerald on every other page).
Now, for those of you who do not live in Minnesota — Summit Avenue is a street lined by beautiful mansions, including the governor’s mansion. Simply lovely. I used to walk my dog down this avenue in the spring and fall and what a stroll… But the emphasis on class distinction grew tedious — and I at least know what the heck she is referring to! God help a reader from NYC…
Second, as a Minnesota transplant, I have the unique privilege of not having been indoctrinated into preconceptions of what certain neighborhoods represent or “mean.” I have lived here for almost 20 years, so I do know which neighborhoods are concerned advantageous, and which are not, but I still have the lovely distance of simply not caring! Freedom…!
Third, as I wrote last month, I’m just plain tired of memoirists waiting until their parents die and then dredging them through emotional mud. Geez! I understand how cathartic writing can be, but trashing parents for their shortcomings (especially when the writer is not a parent) is just uncomforable to read.
Lastly, one more frustration that has plagued me for a few years… There are so many achievements we should feel proud of in our lives — strong, healthy relationships, a college education, etc… but I do not understand the fierce pride and loyalty so many people have regarding the two elements we have NO control over — where we were born and the ethnicity of our ancestors. We have no control over either, yet seem to gain some sort of validation by this.
So, now I hope you can see that while I did not enjoy this memoir, my review is too subjective to apply to most of my readers. Hampl’s prose is lovely and her narration is reminiscent of the circuitous, slippery way memory works. So, I do think many, many readers would appreciate — if not enjoy — this work.
If you have read it — or decide to read it — please let me know just how subjective I have been in this review! 
Ouch. I know you said your review was with subjective, but it still stung a little to read. (Not necessarily a bad thing.) LOL
Just curious, since you said it was a very well-written memoir, aside from your own bias, was there anything you found particularly good about it? A reason why someone who wouldn’t have the same bias might want to pick up a copy and read it?
Grr…must learn to proofread before submitting. The first line was supposed to be “…your review was subjective…” *sigh*
I read this for my book club last year, and liked it about as much as you did – that is, not very. From my own review post: “It’s a well-written book, but I just didn’t find it particularly engaging.” I’m just glad I’m not alone
.
Hi Ann-Kat! I know… I’m afraid with this review I broke most of Updike’s rules of good reviewing!! I wish I had included passages to highlight her prose (before I returned it to the library), which was quite beautiful. I appreciated how she replicates the way the mind moves and jumps around when reminiscing — especially when we are thinking about people or issues that cause conflicted emotions. I found the memoir read very quickly, but did irritate me quite a bit. Unfortunately I had to leave the book club discussion very early and do not know whether my fellow members felt the same…
Thank you for asking, though! You are allowing me to redeem the subjectivity of this review a bit…
Isn’t it interesting to stumble across a work that you can appreciate, yet not particularly like?! Hard to know whether or not to recommend it then, isn’t it?
As someone who is interested in providing information about orchids and orchid care, I stumbled on your blog due to the title of the book ‘The Florist’s Daughter’ thinking there would be something about orchids. There wasn’t, of course, but I enjoyed reading the synopsis from the jacket cover anyway.
I appreciated how she replicates the way the mind moves and jumps around when reminiscing especially when we are thinking about people or issues that cause conflicted emotions. Aside from your own bias, was there anything you found particularly good about it.
As someone who is interested in providing information about orchids and orchid care. I appreciated how she replicates the way the mind moves and jumps around when reminiscing especially when we are thinking about people or issues that cause conflicted emotions.