Lit: A Memoir | BOOK CLUB CLASSICS!

Release date: 2009 / 386 pages

Synopsis (from back cover): Lit is about getting drunk and getting sober; becoming a mother by letting go of a mother; learning to write by learning to live…

First line: “Any way I tell this story is a lie, so I ask you to disconnect the device in your head that repeats at intervals how ancient and addled I am.”

Review: First, a brief moment of true confessions: This was my second attempt at reading Lit.

As an avid memoir reader, I attempted The Liars’ Club last year and just couldn’t do it. Then, when Lit arrived from the library a few months ago, I finished about 50 pages and, again, just couldn’t do it. Now at this point in my review, if I was addressing one of my students, I would grind my teeth and politely write “please avoid using the pronoun ‘it’ without first including a clear antecedent.”

However, I could not identify what “it” was that I could not embrace about Karr’s writing. I find the genre of memoir fascinating and have stated ad nauseum that a quality memoir must be either very well-written, tell a captivating tale, or reveal a very likable narrator. I could tell that Karr had managed to meld all three of these qualities — so rare! — yet, I could not get past the first few chapters of either memoir.

So, when TLC contacted me about reviewing Lit, I knew I had been granted a second chance at Karr that I could not deny. And how grateful I am for this second chance! I had not known that Karr was a poet first, and memoirist second, although the luminous quality to her prose was nearly blinding at times. She expressed moments so far from my own experiences, so perfectly, that I lived through her. I understand why the individuals she writes about are never offended by seeing their unvarnished lives revealed to the public. Karr writes so well and so instinctively, and never strikes a false note.

Lit is a love story to her son, a heroine’s journey in the Greek tradition, a spiritual awakening, and a damn good story. 300 pages flew by in a manner of hours, and when I finished I immediately requested The Liar’s Club from the library.

I did discover why I had not trusted Karr in my earlier tries: I feared self pity or harrowing brutality unredeemed by humility. When I attempted The Liar’s Club, I did not know her well enough to experience her childhood. I realized this during the passage about her first meeting with her in-laws. Karr kept flashing to her childhood, her own parents, her own upbringing, her own slideshow of childhood memories — relentlessly comparing her experiences to what Warren’s must have been as a boy. I became irritated, wanting to escape Karr’s past for at least the span of the dinner, to get to know Warren’s family as well as I already knew Karr’s at that point.

And then it dawned on me… This was precisely the problem! Karr was unable to get out of her own way, unable to see other people without the relentless filter of her paradigm. And then I knew I trust her and greatly anticipated reading the rest of her journey.

Although my own life is disperate from Karr’s on the surface, her hard-earned wisdom resonates universally, and when we wholeheartedly cheer for this heroine on her journey, we realize we are truly cheering for our own redemption as well.

Now, I couldn’t end this review without including Karr’s own words, so here are a few passages that resonated:

Regarding poetry:

I told him I wanted to believe in quality the way I had as a kid, when a great poem could flood me with certainty that there was something good in the world. Or somebody out there knew who I was even if we’d never met — or never would meet.

And her son:

Joy, it is, which I’ve never known before, only pleasure or excitement. Joy is a different thing, because its focus exists outside the self — delight in something external, not satisfaction of some inner craving.

And escaping her paradigm:

But around me I feel gathering — let’s concede I imagine it — spirit. Such vast quiet holds me, and the me I’ve been so lifelong worried about shoring up just dissolves like ash in water. Just isn’t. In its place is this clean air. There’s a space at the bottom of an exhale, a little hitch between taking in and letting out that’s a perfect zero you can go into. There’s a rest point between the heart muscle’s close and open — an instant of keenest living when you’re momentarily dead. You can rest there.

If you are interested in winning a copy, simply leave me a comment and I’ll choose a lucky winner by Saturday!

Here’s the full list of TLC tour stops!

Wednesday, July 7th: Book Club Classics

Thursday, July 8th: The 3 R’s: Reading, ‘Riting, and Randomness

Monday, July 12th: Rundpinne

Wednesday, July 14th: Nonsuch Books

Thursday, July 15th: Fizzy Thoughts

Wednesday, July 21st: Sasha and the Silverfish

Thursday, July 22ed: The Girl from the Ghetto

Tuesday, July 27th: Bloggin’ ‘Bout Books

Wednesday, July 28th: Chefdruk Musings

Thursday, July 29th: Raging Bibliomania