Last week I blazed my way through this summer’s “it” book, Cheryl Strayed’s Wild. Even before Oprah made Wild the inaugural pick of her interactive online Book Club 2.0, friends and reviewers were lauding it as a must-read – This year’s Eat, Pray, Love! – so I was excited when my local book club (1.0) chose it as our October read.
In Wild, Cheryl Strayed recounts her 1100 mile solo hike of the Pacific Crest Trail, a national trail that runs from Mexico to Canada through California, Oregon, and Washington. Strayed uses her trek as a lens through which to explore her emotional disintegration and reawakening following the death of her mother and the collapse of her marriage. Without any long-distance hiking experience or really any clue about what such a endeavor entails, Strayed decides to hike the PCT as a way of both turning back the clock and moving ahead. She writes:
I had to change was the thought that drove me in those months of planning. Not into a different person, but back to the person I used to be – strong and responsible, clear-eyed and driven, ethical and good. And the PCT would make me that way. There, I’d walk and think about my entire life. I’d find my strength again, far from everything that had made my life ridiculous.
What really elevated Wild for me was Cheryl Strayed’s ability to get and keep me on her side, even as she made decision after decision that confused, frustrated, and downright irritated me. Sure, Strayed and I are both American women who like to read and write and have blue eyes and a fondness for the poetry of Adrienne Rich, but I don’t think our instincts could be any more different. Committed to her project in spirit if not in physical preparation, she sets out on the trail with boots that are a size too small and an overstuffed backpack that’s ten sizes too big. She continues to make risky choices throughout her trip: traveling alone, not carrying enough water, hitchhiking, spending her few dollars too quickly. But I really liked her, despite the ways she tweaked my Type A nature. Her voice is fresh and open and her style is confessional: no one realizes Cheryl’s tendency for screwing up more than Cheryl. She lets us see her, warts and all, and she makes us believe she is a person worth knowing.
Reading Wild, I was also struck once again by a question that often obsesses me as I read memoirs: does a memoirist need a big, dramatic experience in order to have a story worth telling? Strayed’s life has drama in spades: she was raised poor by her mother in rural Minnesota after her mom split from Strayed’s abusive father; her mother died young after a brief battle with lung cancer; Cheryl married at 19 and then split with her husband after dalliances with several men (not to mention heroin). And then, of course, there’s her experience hiking the trail itself – filled with bloody toes, coyotes, and encounters with strangers of mysterious intent. Strayed is a terrific writer – I suspect she could make my grocery list sound interesting – but still I wonder: would I have turned the pages as quickly if her life had been more like mine?
But then I think of some of my favorite memoirs – Dani Shapiro’s Devotion, Katrina Kenison’s The Gift of an Ordinary Day, Louise Erdrich’s The Blue Jay’s Dance – and I’m reminded of the magic a gifted writer can weave into the simplest of stories. And that, if I ever want to write a memoir, I’d better work on my writing since my life experiences alone probably won’t sell my story.
As a reader, do you prefer big, splashy stories or small, quiet ones? Have you read Wild? If you did, what did you think?
{ 15 comments… read them below or add one }
I was just discussing Wild with a friend last week. There were parts of the book that I adored–her honesty, some of her beautiful prose–but I felt like I was one of the only ones who didn’t LOVE the book. I wish I would’ve found more in her pages–more reflection upon her experiences, some of the emotional girth that I find in yours and my favorite memoirs (Devotion and Gift of An Ordinary Day).
A literary agent pal of mine told me that currently, as a genre, beautifully written memoir (with no dramatic story at its core) is a tough sell. You ask a question here that I consider often–can I write a memoir about my ordinary–mundane even–life and make it interesting for others? Since I don’t know the answers, I am grateful for the blogging platform that allows us all to share and grow.
xo
Kristen, you are adding to my reading list. Don’t you know I already have too many books on it?
I like to read a mixture of big, splashy stories and small, quiet ones. As far as memoirs go, I like books that I can learn from, perhaps about a different culture or different era, but also that I can relate to. I like reading stories about a life different than mine, but I also like to see the commonality among us all.
I loved Wild SO MUCH. Also, unsurprisingly, I guess, the other memoirs you mention are among my very favorites. xoxo
Wild was the one just-for-fun book I allowed myself to read this summer (and it set me back with my annotations!). I did enjoy her writing style and her recap of both her on-the-trail adventures and the links to her childhood and past. I once did a long-distance hike (Colorado Trail) and despite all of Strayed’s misery, reading it made my feet itchy to get on the trail again. Although the thought doing it alone gives me horrors. My one complaint with the book was that it seemed like it just wrapped up too quickly, like “Then I got to Oregon and then 200 miles later I was done.” It just seemed like the pace changed and a big chunk of time got brushed over. Maybe she’d done most of her internal work by then. Maybe she didn’t have as many adventures at that point.
Regarding does your life have to be exciting (or horrific) to be memoir-worthy? It seems that when I apply the question to myself, the answer is yes, but when I apply it to books I have read (and enjoyed) by others, the answer is no. I’ll go with a definite double-standard.
I noticed that too – the way the pace of the book accelerated in the final third. If I were her editor, I might have suggested cutting some of the middle third and beefing up the final one. Then again, I can’t think off-hand of any anecdote or reflection that felt too bulky or too tangential to her story. I know that I, for one, wasn’t getting bored.
I find this to be a fascinating question:
Does a memoirist need a big, dramatic experience in order to have a story worth telling?
My own feeling is no, if the writing is top-notch, if the writer can get us on her side (as you say) – even if we disagree with her choices, and if there are – nonetheless – universal points of humanity that we can recognize.
That said, I weary of the element of narcissism that I cannot help but see sitting behind many – not all – attempts at memoir.
Are we writing memoir because it exorcises demons – and is easier than fiction writing?
Is memoir the natural accompaniment in our contemporary social media times, when we’re preoccupied with “this moment” because life feels crushing in so many ways?
I don’t know.
You raise several interesting points here, BLW, and I can’t help but wonder if social media – and blogging and micro-blogging in particular – contributes to the culture of narcissism. As you say, are we becoming more and more self-obsessed instead of confronting our real issues?
Well, as expected, I missed the buzz re: “Wild.” Why is it that I am always seven steps behind? Still, it sounds interesting.
It’s crazy that you bring the memoir issue up–I’m taking a humor writing class (first week down, sigh) and the first assignment was to identify your humor “mentor.” A comedian, in any form, that you admire. And then we were encouraged to analyze why you thought they were funny.
I picked Haven Kimmel. Her novel, A Girl Named Zippy, is exactly the book I’d write if I had the chops. The thing that makes her memoir remarkable is that there’s no real family drama (eg: Augusten Burroughs or Frank McCourt…those guys have juicy material to work with…)–she grew up in rural Illinois. But her voice shines though the whole novel–the child voice–: the confusion of things you aren’t old enough to understand, the wonder you feel at the littlest things, the way everything seems bigger somehow when you are young.
It reminded me that you can make a compelling story out of the mundane; you just have to look through the right lens.
This book is on my list. I didn’t know she was so colorful but I should have guessed from Oprah’s attraction to her. I have that same question about memoirs: must I be dirt poor, suffer great, harrowing hardship in order to entice my readers. I guess if not, then my writing better be out of this freaking world. Seems like heroin would be easier some days. Not really serious, but sort of.
I like both kinds of stories and memoirs, but you need a good writer behind both. Even the most dramatic story is no good if it can’t be told well. I really loved and resonated with Wild, especially since losing my mother at a similar age, and while it didn’t drive me to the trail it did spur me to other adventures that I likely never would have had had my mother lived. I’m so glad you got a chance to read it!
I haven’t read it. But I am a trail girl. Floated through the Grand Canyon on the Colorado River and flipped my raft in the icy waters of the Alsek River of Alaska. I grew up with a backpack on my back. I understand myself best outdoors, breathing extra as I climb a hill.
I like what BLW said about our “Reality World” but I like memoirs best. Her thoughts are making me question why.
“A Girl Named Zippy, is exactly the book I’d write if I had the chops.”
I’m with you, KW. Hamlet is exactly the play I’d write if I had the chops. :-)
BTW, Strayed has outed herself as “Dear Sugar,” the incredible advice columnist on The Rumpus.
And a book of her “Dear Sugar” columns was also published this year. It’s the Summer of Cheryl!
I will add this to my reading list…loved how TKW said ” It reminded me that you can make a compelling story out of the mundane; you just have to look through the right lens.” I find that true. Great post, Kristen
I don’t think you need to have major triumphs or tragedy in your life to be interesting. It is a question of writing and the connections that develop from that.
Some of my favorite reading comes from simple stories about the mundane and routine lives people lead. I love the magic and mystical, but a well crafted tale about homework, housework and soccer games can do wonders.