Week Six: Memoir Analysis

I loved both memoirs. Both were real and relate able to me. But only one pulled me in like a story and didn't let me go until I had finished the last line.

Difficult Girl; Growing Up, With Help by Lena Dunham, spoke volumes to me. Not just for the story she was telling, but for how she told it as well. I appreciated the well developed thought process, the introduction each character in her tale was given, because it was their characters as much as their actions that had an impact on her life. She protected their privacy, but at the same time, she helped me see them as she did. And that helped me connect to her story on a much deeper level.

The progression of her story was also a tool she used effectively. She didn't tell every memory, just the ones that added to her story and message. But the ones she did tell were detailed in such a way as to justify why they were being included. There was not doubt that the moments that she illustrated for her readers were foundational not just to the theme of her memoir but also to the timeline of her life and her own self image.

One might owner if her story rings true simply because if the depth of her memories and the distinct air of self awareness that colors the moments she chooses to share with us even at an early age. But that same self awareness does not seem the kind developed later in life when one is trying to make sense of their story in light of the world and their place in it.

"And so my third session is with Lisa. Lisa’s office is down the block from our apartment, and my mother, sensing some trepidation, pulls me aside and says to think of it like a playdate. If I like playing with her, I can go back. If not, we’ll find someone else for me to play with. I nod, but I’m well aware that most playdates don’t revolve around someone trying to figure out whether you’re crazy or not."

Far from immature, her self awareness does have a true childlike quality to it. Which helps the reader believe that her recollections are in fact factual. Thinking back on my own childhood, I do remember wondering if I was loved, if my personality didn't fit somehow with what I should have been, and having fears that seemed to be too big for me. I can recall the looks on my parent's faces when I disappointed them, and on teacher's faces when I surprised them in good and bad ways. I remember the way adults treated me, and how it varied from person to person. And I remember wondering why.

Knowing these things about myself, and understanding my own capacity for childhood retrospection, the depth of her memories does not surprise me, nor does it take away from the credibility of what she writes.

I could see myself in this story in a way that was shocking. As a child who struggled with mental illness, and that of certain close family members, it became my normal. I think this is something that Dunham illustrates very well in her own story and shows how one functions with these dynamics being present in their family. It would be more unbelievable if she had concentrated more on the fact that she always felt like an outcast and never had any normal memories/experiences. I appreciate that she did not do this. She doesn't appear to be psychoanalyzing her childhood, merely telling the truth of her tale as best as she can.

That is not to say that the other memoir was bad, or untrue. But it was not personal to me. It was an every person story. It did not present me with a new way to examine my interactions. It simply added the same truth to an already worn out conversation that we have all heard many times. If their had been more detail, if the author had expanded on her cousin's character or some of the experiences they had shared during their time together I probably would have connected with the story more. But there just wasn't enough there.