American Daughter: A memoir
So, I’ve spent the last two years reading memoirs. Many, many memoirs, I might add. I’ve always found it useful to learn from those who’ve already achieved what I’m attempting to do so I read and learn.
A writer needs to read, especially the kind of book they’re hoping to write.
I am working on my memoir about living through a childhood with a mother with untreated mental illness on an Alaskan homestead followed by a lifelong quest to realize that love isn’t earned by being perfect. It’s challenging to write the arc of one’s own life, but that is the quest.
In a workshop this week, a student wrote in the chat, “Everyone writes about their traumatic childhood, or grief or loss. If I’ve had a happy life, can’t I write about that?”
The answer is, “Of course you can! The world certainly needs cheerful books.”
However, as one of my favorite memoir teachers, Marion Roach Smith, says, “A memoir is about what you learned from what you went through.”
The answer is, of course, you can. The world certainly needs cheerful books, though most memoirs deal with Universal Themes of love, grief, loss, and growing up.
Memoir is a journey to extract meaning from experience.
While we may not agree with Frank McCourt with the opening to Angela’s Ashes, it does indeed give an author a lot to write about.
When I look back on my childhood I wonder how I survived at all. It was, of course, a miserable childhood: the happy childhood is hardly worth your while. Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood.
This book is plunked in the middle of the miserable childhood category.
I just finished American Daughter, a Memoir by Stephanie Thornton Plymale with Elissa Wald and it certainly falls plunk into the middle of the miserable childhood category. The title refers to the premise that this is an all-too-common example of a family who struggled without the help they needed.
It is surprising the author even survived and her resilience is inspiring. Although her mother received sporadic treatment for her mental illness, she never was able to find stability. Her chaotic life wreaked havoc on her children, who were terribly affected by their mother’s trauma.
The structure of the book felt disjointed with frequent flashbacks that were hard to follow. Her adult life was hard to read about as I often found the narrator narcissistic and unlikeable. I had to keep reminding myself that she was doing well considering she had no help learning to navigate life. Most compelling were the stories about her mother’s experiences, Plymale’s childhood, and her quest to discover the truth about her parents.
Plymale summarizes what she learned on the final page,
The damage can’t be reversed or undone. sometimes we don’t arrive in time.
But if nothing else, I could honor the lives I couldn’t save.
Using Marion Roach Smith’s idea of discovering what the author learned from what she went through, I found her summary a bit short in personal reflection. I wanted to know: How did she change going forward? How would she honor those lost loved ones?
At times the book felt vaguely disjointed with simple writing, which may be a result of the author working with a collaborator. I give the author maximum applause for writing what must have been a painful story and being willing to revisit these memories.
An interesting, quick read, I would give this book ‘3 Stars’.
