Archive
Book Review: For a Dancer: The Memoir by Emma J. Stephens
Summary:
Emma recounts her childhood growing up with an outgoing older sister, a permissive father, and an addict stepfather in rural America. She then relates attending college as a single mother, her failed marriage, and studying abroad in Paris.
Review:
Imagine the most whiny, entitled, immature person you know. Now imagine that person perceives herself as simultaneously awesome, intelligent, and put-upon. Now imagine that person wrote a memoir and couldn’t even maintain the same tense throughout. That’s Stephens’ memoir. To a T.
Yes, a few things in Emma’s childhood weren’t perfect, but most people don’t have life handed to them on a silver platter. Her sister overshadowed her a bit. Her stepfather was an addict who had to go to rehab. Interestingly, though, Emma and her sister were unaware of his addiction until her mother and stepfather sat them down to explain why he was going into rehab. It seemed to me that they actually handled the situation quite well. When Emma’s stepfather returns from rehab, he and her sister clash a bit in the typical teenage angst style, but since the girls also have a father, Emma’s sister moves in with him and their stepmother. It is at this point that Emma starts making the series of dumb decisions that really mess up her life for….well for forever.
Emma ditches her mother and stepfather who had just made over her room for her and goes to live with her absentee father and stepmother who really aren’t behaving like parents at all. Emma proceeds to whine about this situation, when she did it to herself. She whines about everything about living there, when all she had to do was go back to the healthy household with her mom and stepfather. Why didn’t she? Dare I to suggest that she actually liked the freedom, no responsibilities, slacking off in school, getting drunk, having sex, etc…? Why, yes I do. She then proceeds to run away from home multiple times, scaring the crap out of her mother, who appears to be the only one who goes looking for her. It’s the typical what do we do with this horrible out of control teenager story only told from the teenager’s perspective. Aka, it’s terrible. It’s horrible to read about. There is no remorse, no chagrin. Everyone else is always at fault but Emma.
Perhaps teenage angst can be forgivable, but what occurs later was simply horrifying to read about, partially because at first it seems that Emma is straightening her life out. She gets pregnant, keeps the baby, and still completes her pre-med courses and graduates with her BS. This is admirable. I’m sure it was difficult, and she seems to be focused on providing a good life for her son. That all quickly ceases though when she gives up on becoming a doctor, gets married, moves to LA, gets a boob job, and then starts shopping herself and her son around for movie roles. You claim you want to give your son a better life, so you throw him to the wolves in Hollywood? Really?
Naturally, the marriage doesn’t work out, and we then see a series of men coming into and out of her son, Gabriel’s, life. He is routinely left with friends or family so Emma can gallyvant around with these various men, oh, not to mention go do a semester abroad in France without her son when he’s only 11 years old. All she can seem to think about or focus on is money. Not creating satisfying relationships. Not broadening her horizons. Not anything but money. Think I’m exaggerating? She ends up ditching her son for weekends so she can fly across the country to be a high-class hooker. Meanwhile, her mother has settled in the mountains and become an addiction specialist. If you’ve ever needed proof goodness isn’t genetic, there it is. In fact, I’d love to read her mother’s memoir. I bet she has a lot more valuable things to say.
Perhaps all of that could be bearable if she simply wrote well, but she doesn’t. She talks in circles and constantly changes tenses to the point where following the story is incredibly difficult.
Overall, this is a badly written memoir by a person who is a bad daughter and irresponsible mother who has seemingly learned nothing from her mistakes. I cannot in good faith recommend it to anyone.
1 out of 5 stars
Source: Print copy via LibraryThing’s EarlyReviewers
Book Review: From This Moment On by Shania Twain
Summary:
Shania Twain shot to fame on the country music charts in 1995 with her second album The Woman in Me. Her music was part of the new generation of 90s country, featuring such artists as Toby Keith, Tim McGraw, Faith Hill, etc…, that would blend country and pop for a new sound. In her memoir Shani recounts her life from her childhood in the northern part of Ontario, Canada to her sudden fame to the heartbreaking realization that her husband was cheating on her with her best friend to her recovery and new life.
Review:
While other girls of the 90s were obsessed with The Spice Girls and Britney Spears, I fan girled out over Shania Twain. My family was a country music household to begin with, so getting my parents to be cool with me listening to pop was always a creative act. (I remember I got away with listening to Britney Spears by getting my mother to listen to Hit Me Baby One More Time and like it and then revealed that it was Britney Spears. I’ve always been a wily lady.) In any case, I needed to employ none of this trickery to listen to Shania. As country music she had the stamp of approval, plus my big brother had bought her cd. I was 8 years old when The Woman in Me came out, and I remember being completely blown away by “Any Man of Mine.” (Go watch the video. I can wait.) I was blown out of the water. Whereas most country I’d heard prior was all about love and heartbreak and cheating husbands, here was a woman saying loud and proud that she deserves to be treated right, dammit! Let’s just say it really appealed to the feminist inside me. When I found out she was from “the bush” of Canada and a poor family closely tied to Native culture, well, I was insanely curious, but Shania has always kept her private life private, so I was left to wonder. Needless to say, when I heard at the beginning of this year that Shania would be publishing a memoir, I pre-ordered it. I had to know more about this woman whose music so spoke to lonely little rural girl of the 90s.
Shania’s memoir is very different from any others I have read. She does not involve many storytelling tropes. She only quotes people twice in the entire book. She reflects a lot, similar to, perhaps, if you’ve ever had the chance to listen to an older relative think out loud about her life. It does not read like a story, but it does feel as if you were granted a couple hours of private access to one of the more private country stars.
The strongest part of the book is without a doubt when she is reflecting on her family and upbringing in Canada. It becomes abundantly clear that perhaps Shania’s reclusiveness has more to do with the fact that while she loved music she had no dreams of being a star. Her mother decided her daughter would be a star and pushed her into it.
Imagine what a burden that is for a young girl. I just wanted music, not necessarily a music career. But because I felt obligated by her dedication to me her singer, I never had the heart to consider anything else in life, even though I’d dreamed of maybe becoming a veterinarian. I also developed a passion for design and architecture that continues to this day. In fact, that’s probably what I would have pursued had my mother not been so forceful about music. (location 1634)
I find it fascinating how often famous people were pushed into that career path as a child. What makes parents do this? I remember when I was a kid I wanted to “be a star,” and my father sat me down and told me to think really hard about it, because I’d lose all privacy and normalcy. I gave up on the idea and decided to be a reclusive writer instead. So what makes other parents push their kids into it?
Well, it’s obvious Shania’s mother had an incredibly rough life. Her family was below the poverty line with young mouths to feed. Her mother’s relationship was abusive, and she struggled with depression.
The perpetual undertow of financial instability took its tool in other ways, as it usually does, compromising my parents’ love for each other at times and no doubt feeding my mother’s recurrent bouts of depression. (location 189)
Ah. I can only guess that Shania’s mother saw a chance for financial stability for her daughter’s future in her talent, pinpointing most of her life’s troubles on a lack of money. Funny how Shania then succeeded and went on to have similar problems simply on the opposite end of the financial spectrum.
The section of the book dealing with fame, recording, making music videos, etc… is frankly disappointing. Shania barely brushes the surface of what actually went on behind the scenes, instead focusing in on how drained and dissatisfied her newfound fame made her feel. Passages largely read like this:
I was starting to feel as if I’d lost my chops at life’s fundamentals—and I’d been someone who could survive on my own in a cabin in the woods with no running water or electricity in subzero temperatures and snow up to my butt. Now, with a skilled full-time staff at home to handle every domestic and personal chore for me, I felt…useless and inept. (location 4905)
An interesting reflection, no doubt, but I really wanted to know what happened during the, at the time controversial, “The Woman in Me” video shoot in Egypt, for example. Details like this combined with the reflections on the dissatisfaction of fame would have made for a more powerful book, in my opinion.
The last section of the book addresses Shania’s time off from music, the birth of her son Eja, and the dissolution of her marriage to music producer Mutt Lange. This part is hard to read, because it is so abundantly clear that those around her have used and abused Shania (her husband cheated on her with her best friend in Switzerland). This is a woman for whom for her whole life family and being in touch with nature have mattered to her far more than anything else, and yet these things seem to be denied her. It saddens me that the woman who sang such strong music has in fact spent most of her life trying to make other people happy. This memoir was written as a way to deal with the end of her marriage, and I hope that through it Shania has found some peace and starts listening to her heart about what she really values and needs. It is so evident in the last third of the book that she is trying to buy happiness with more and more property and perfectly built homes. If only there was some way for the peace and quiet loving singer/songwriters of the world to get their music to others without suffering from the entrapment of fame. Maybe the internet will help with that.
Overall, I found this to be a moving memoir, if a bit flawed. It meanders sometimes and skips over some things that fans would definitely want to know about, but it is an interesting insight into the mind and life of a famous country singer and gives an interesting look at the negative effects of fame, even if they aren’t as huge as drug overdoses.
4 out of 5 stars
Source: Amazon
Book Review: A Stolen Life by Jaycee Dugard
Summary:
On June 10, 1991, eleven year old Jaycee Lee Dugard was abducted from her school bus stop by Phillip and Nancy Garrido with the aid of a stun-gun. Jaycee was locked up in a backyard compound and repeatedly raped and abused by Phillip in a bid to satisfy his pedophilia. Over the course of her 18 year captivity, Jaycee gave birth to two daughters in the compound. Eventually with her increasing age, the sexual assaults stopped, but she was still held captive. Finally, on August 26, 2009, Phillip brought Jaycee and her daughters with him to the parole office in an attempt to explain away why he was spotted in public with the two girls. Jaycee, who hadn’t been allowed to speak her name for 18 years, was able to write it down for the police. This is the memoir of her experience and gradual recovery from the captivity.
Review:
Jaycee wrote this memoir without the assistance of a ghost writer, something very uncommon in memoirs by victims of abduction. She states in the beginning that her way of remembering things is a bit off because of the trauma, but that her way of telling her story will provide a genuine experience for the reader to truly see how the abduction affected her. She is correct that the memoir is not set up in a traditional way, but this tends to make for stronger books when discussing something as painful as this. It reminds me a bit of the very non-traditional story-telling methods used in another memoir When Rabbit Howls. Eliminating the ghost writer and letting the victim speak grants us, the readers, the opportunity to truly connect with a survivor. I humbly thank Jaycee for her bravery in this.
Most of the chapters start with Jaycee remembering the events from the perspective of her younger self. This absolutely makes scenes such as her first molestation by Phillip incredibly haunting. She then ends each chapter with a reflection from her adult, free perspective on the past. This structure is unique, but it provides an interesting perspective, showing both Jaycee the victim and Jaycee the survivor. Toward the end of the book this structure is lost a bit as we suddenly are shown many pages from the journal Jaycee carefully kept in captivity, as well as talking in a more present manner about the therapy she’s been going through. Her therapist sounds truly remarkable. She uses horses to help the survivors deal with problems, which seems to work incredibly well for Jaycee who often only had animals around to talk to during her 18 year ordeal.
Although Jaycee does recount her abuse and manipulation at the hands of Phillip, that is not at all what stands out in this memoir. What comes across is what a strong, sensitive, caring woman Jaycee is. She is not lost in woe is me. She does not even think she has it the worst of anyone in the world. The one thing she repeatedly states she’s learned is that she was not assertive enough as a little girl, and that personality trait backfired on her repeatedly throughout the ordeal. She states that she sees this as the reason abuse of all kinds are able to go on, because people don’t speak up.
There are moments in which all of us need to have a backbone and feel that we have the right to say no to adults if we believe they are doing the wrong thing. You must find your voice and not be afraid to speak up. (page 143)
This message of “speak up” is stated repeatedly throughout the book and leaves the reader feeling empowered rather than downtrodden at such a tale. If Jaycee could live through such a situation and come out of it stronger and as an advocate for victims and survivors of abuse to speak up, how can any of us do any less?
I recommend this book to those who enjoy memoirs and survival stories and can handle scenes of a disturbing nature.
4 out of 5 stars
Source: Amazon
Book Review: I Am Hutterite by Mary Ann Kirkby
Summary:
Mary Ann Kirkby recounts her unique childhood in her memoir. She was born into a Hutterite family. The Hutterites are a religious sect similar to the Amish only they believe that living communally is a mandate for Christians. Mary Ann recounts her childhood both in the religious sect (her particular group was located in western Canada), as well as the journey and culture shock she went through when her parents left the Hutterites when she was nine years old.
Review:
I actually read this memoir because of the situation in which I first ran into Hutterites and have been fascinated with them ever since. For a couple of years, my father and brother lived in Montana. I went to visit them and was shopping in Victoria’s Secret at the mall and rounded the corner to discover traditionally-garbed Hutterite women buying thongs. I had no idea what a Hutterite was, but instantly hunted down my brother elsewhere in the mall to find out who these people were. All that the “English” seemed to know about them was that they lived in a commune, dressed kind of like the Amish but different, traveled all together to town in a few big vans, and the Hutterite women were always buying thongs at Victoria’s Secret. Hutterites are rather quiet about their lifestyle though, so when I stumbled across this on a new releases list, I knew I needed to read it to find out more about the community.
This is a completely fascinating memoir that I devoured in one day. Mary Ann is able to see both the faults and the beauty of various experiences in her childhood with the clear eye of an adult. Yet simultaneously she harbors no ill-well toward either the Hutterites or her parents or any of those who made her transition from a Hutterite girl to an “English” woman more difficult. Kirkby writes with a sympathetic ear to all those she encountered in her life, which is a refreshing change in the memoir genre.
Additionally Kirkby’s writing offers an immersion into the fascinating world of communal living with a religious belief system to hold it all in place. Kirkby recounts a childhood where no homes were kept locked, everyone was always welcome in everyone else’s home, and most meals of the day were eaten communally with your age-mates. In fact, one of the biggest changes for Kirkby when her family left the Hutterites was suddenly needing to interact with her siblings on a regular basis instead of her same-age female friends. She also had trouble understanding the English need for privacy in the home or the relative silence with which meals were eaten.
Another point of interest is that Kirkby’s father was from a Russian family that was persecuted in Europe and had to run to Canada to escape the Nazis. His father sought refuge and a sense of safety in the community of the Hutterites. Conversely, her father who grew up in this safety found himself craving more freedom than the strict rules and constructs of the commune would allow for. The book thus not only recounts a unique girlhood and insight into the Hutterite way of life, but also addresses the age-old question of freedom versus security.
Anyone interested in the Hutterite communities or unique childhoods will absolutely enjoy this memoir. It is well-written, intriguing, and contains not a trace of bitterness. I highly recommend it.
5 out of 5 stars
Source: Amazon
Book Buzz: Orchids and Memories: 3 Stories of Hawaii by Robert Soares, Illustrated and Edited by Erin Soares
Hello my lovely readers! Since I’m increasingly becoming good friends with writers and other creative types, I want to be able to let you all know when they release new work. However, I don’t feel like I could fairly review it, since I’m their friend. Hence the new feature–buzzes! I’ll just let you know that the piece is out, what it’s about, and where you can get it. The rest is up to you. ;-)
First up, my friend Erin, who you may remember illustrated my book cover, has edited and assembled a collection of three nonfiction short stories written by her grandfather chronicling his life as a Filipino growing up in Hawaii then coming to the mainland. The collection calls to light many issues that I know are important to many of you, such as being non-white in America, the problem of higher education for non-traditional students, and environmentalism versus economy. However, the collection also has universal appeal, as an older person reflects on his life and the successes and mistakes and possible mistakes he’s made. I think it has wide appeal, and is of course beautifully illustrated by Erin. It’s available for $2.99 via the Kindle store, and I do hope those of you who find the description appealing will check it out.
Bloggers’ Alliance of Nonfiction Devotees (BAND): July Discussion: Favorite Type of Nonfiction
Hi guys! So the lovely Amy (of Amy Reads) let me know of a new organization of bloggers who love to read nonfiction–Bloggers’ Alliance of Nonfiction Devotees. The group has a tumblr, and basically the various members will post links to their reviews of nonfiction books as well as participate in themed discussions once a month. You all know that I definitely partake in nonfiction periodically, so I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be involved!
This month’s topic is our favorite type of nonfiction. I’d be hard-pressed to choose just one, so I’m going to cheat a bit and talk about, well, three of them.
First, the type of nonfiction that I continued to read even when working full-time and attending grad school at night was memoirs. Memoirs hold a special allure for me. Nothing connects me to people from different walks of life than mine quite like reading their first-hand account of their own life. I especially love memoirs by people who suffer from mental illnesses or have survived abusive situations. Memoirs simply never fail to touch me, even if I disagree with the author on a lot of points. It is truly astounding how different and yet the same we all are.
Second, I love books on health for the layman, particularly books on vegetarianism and veganism. I have a whole pile of tbr books just waiting for me about the health crisis in the US, such as Diet for a New America
Finally, I was a history major in undergrad, and history books still appeal to me. Currently I am reading a biography on Heinrich Himmler
So that’s the types of nonfiction I love! What about you, my lovely readers?
Book Review: Wild Swans: Three Daughters of China by Jung Chang
Summary:
In this memoir, Jung Chang recounts the lives of herself, her mother, and her grandmother growing up in pre-communist, revolutionary, and communist China. Mixing extensive historical facts with intensely personal remembrances, Jung Chang presents a vivid portrait of real life in China.
Review:
As an American, I was raised being told communism is bad, but not particularly taught much about it. So when Meghan blogged about this memoir, I was immediately intrigued. My history BA taught me to favor first-person accounts over academic ramblings, so a memoir of communist China from a woman’s perspective was frankly ideal.
It has been a very long time since I’ve learned so much from a memoir. Chang was extremely careful to verify the facts of the historical events surrounding her family’s various issues. Starting with her grandmother who had bound feet and was essentially sold by her family as a concubine, Change moves up through the drastic changes in China. From her mother who was part of the communist revolution to herself who ended up an ex-patriot in Britain.
My preconceived notions of communism were frankly tromped upon by this memoir. As a liberal person, I never quite understood what was so bad about communist China. Chang makes it clear throughout the book that the governing body of China never actually lived up to the communist ideals of her revolutionary parents. The passage where Chang best explains the warped version of communism enacted by Mao states:
The Cultural Revolution not only did nothing to modernize the medieval elements in China’s culture, it actually gave them political respectability. ‘Modern’ dictatorship and ancient intolerance fed on each other. Anyone who fell foul of the age-old conservative attitudes could now become a political victim. (page 413)
Thus, communism in China was and is not at all what many hippie Westerners believe and/or believed it to be.
Beyond opening up understanding of communist China, this memoir also distinctly demonstrates the human spirit under pressure. From Chang’s father who stood by his ideals at all costs to her grandmother who simply wanted everyone in her family to be comfortable and happy to neighbors with their own agendas, Chang demonstrates how an oppressive regime s bring out both the best and the worst in human nature.
This is a fascinating book both for its insider’s view of communist China as well as its female perspective on said regime. Similarly, it offers an intriguing commentary on human nature. I recommend it to anyone interested in the history of China as well as those with an interest in women’s studies or political science history.
5 out of 5 stars
Source: SwapTree (now defunct)
Book Review: Lunch in Paris: A Love Story, With Recipes by Elizabeth Bard
Summary:
Elizabeth has always been drawn to museums and the Old World, so when she’s doing her graduate work in London and meets Gwendal, a Frenchman, she jumps right into dating him. Gradually she falls for not just Gwendal, but Paris in general, especially the food. This memoir tells about her falling in love and the process of becoming an expat in France through the lens of food.
Review:
This memoir starts out strong. Who doesn’t enjoy a good real life love story? Paris sounds incredibly romantic and appealing to anyone who enjoys open food markets, museums, and the big city charm of small spaces. Two things held me back from really enjoying the book though.
First, as a vegetarian, I really didn’t appreciate the incredibly long and frequent sections describing eating meat, cooking meat, how awesome meat is, etc… Where Elizabeth describes her future husband, Gwendal, telling her “I love you” for the first time over a piece of bloody meat, I was thoroughly distracted by the poor, dead, bleeding animal. I could not identify with Elizabeth at all in these frequent sections. How can she claim to be a romantic at heart yet have so much of her life revolve around eating innocent creatures? I wound up skimming a lot.
Granted, I know readers who enjoy eating meat themselves won’t be bothered by these passages, but I am fairly certain they’ll be irritated by the change of tone of voice partway through the narrative. From telling us about how lucky she is to be living this life in Paris, Elizabeth suddenly changes into a bit of a pity party. Poor Elizabeth, living in Paris with a man who loves her, cooking food for him every day, giving tours of the Louvre. This isn’t how she imagined her life would work out. Um….ok. I’d suggest Elizabeth try reading some memoirs of true struggles such as The Glass Castle and get back to us.
Overall, the scenes of real Paris life are interesting and enjoyable, but the frequent scenes featuring bloody meat and Elizabeth’s pity party really detract from the book. If you are a meat eater yourself and a foodie, you’ll probably enjoy this memoir anyway. I’d advise others to stay away.
3 out of 5 stars
Source: Amazon
Book Review: The Buddha and the Borderline: My Recovery from Borderline Personality Disorder through Dialectical Behavior Therapy, Buddhism, and Online Dating by Kiera Van Gelder
Summary:
Kiera here recounts her struggle with mental illness, first undiagnosed and indescribable, marked by episodes of self-harming, frantic attempts to avoid abandonment (such as writing a boy a letter in her own blood), alcohol and narcotic abuse, among other things. Then she recounts how she was finally diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder (definition) and her struggles to recover from this difficult mental illness usually caused by a combination of brain chemistry and trauma in childhood. Kiera recounts her experience with the most effective treatment for BPD–Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT). She honestly discusses her struggles to encounter and interact with the world and establish relationships, often utilizing online dating websites. Finally she brings us to her final step in the recovery process, her embracing of Buddhism, which much of DBT’s therapy techniques are based upon.
Review:
Many memoirs talk about events in a person’s life, but the thing about mental illness, is the person writing the memoir must somehow be able to show her audience what it is to be inside that head. Inside that person who perceives the world in her own unique, albeit messed-up,way. It takes a certain level of brutal honesty with yourself to be able to do so. Kiera achieves this with flying colors here.
BPD is an illness that, unless you have encountered it in your own life either by having it yourself or caring deeply for someone who does, is often difficult to clearly describe in a sympathetic manner. Popular culture wants us to believe that these, by and large female, sufferers are akin to the femme fatale or the main character in Fatal Attraction. But people with BPD aren’t bunny boilers. They are individuals who experience emotions much more extremely than everyday people do. A visual Kiera uses throughout the book that I believe is quite apt is that a person with BPD is like a person with third degree burns all over their body. A touch that wouldn’t hurt a non-injured person makes the burned person cry. That’s what emotions are like for people with BPD.
Kiera depicts what it feels to suffer from BPD with eloquent passages such as these:
I am always on the verge of drowning, no matter how hard I work to keep myself afloat. (Location 236-240)
In an instant, I shift from a woman to a wild-haired girl kicking furniture to a balled-up weeping child on the bed, begging for a touch. (Location 258-263)
Similarly Kiera addresses topics that non-mentally ill people have a difficult time understanding at all, such as self-injury, with simultaneously beautiful and frightening passages.
I grew more mindful as the slow rhythm of bloodletting rinsed me with clarity. It wasn’t dramatic; it was familiar and reassuring. I was all business, making sure not to press too deep. (Location 779-783)
But of course it isn’t all dark and full of despair. If it was, this wouldn’t be the beautiful memoir that it is. Kiera’s writing not only brings understanding to those who don’t have BPD and a familiar voice to those who do, but also a sense of hope. I cheerleader who made it and is now rooting for you. Kiera speaks directly to fellow Borderlines in the book, and as she proceeds throug her recovery, she repeatedly stops and offers a hand back to those who are behind her, still in the depths of despair. Having BPD isn’t all bad. People with BPD are highly artistic, have a great capacity for love.
I become determined to fight–for my survival, and for my borderline brothers and sisters. We do not deserve to be trapped in hell. It isn’t our fault. (Location 1672-1676)
So while it’s undeniable that BPD destroys people, it can also open us to an entirely new way of relating to ourselves and the world–both for those of us who have it, and for those who know us. (Location 5030-5033)
Ironically, the word “borderline” has become the most perfect expression of my experience–the experience of being in two places at once: disordered and perfect. The Buddha and the borderline are not separate–without one, the other could not emerge. (Location 5051-5060)
Combine the insight for people without BPD to have into BPD with the sense of connection and relating for people with BPD reading this memoir, and it becomes abundantly clear how powerful it is. Add in the intensely loving encouragement Kiera speaks to her fellow Borderlines, and it enters the category of amazing. I rarely cry in books. I cried throughout this one, but particularly in the final chapter.
This is without a doubt the best memoir I have read. I highly recommend it to everyone, but particularly to anyone who has BPD, knows someone with BPD, or works with the mentally ill. It humanizes and empathizes a mental illness that is far too often demonized.
5 out of 5 stars
Read my fiction novella starring a main character with BPD. I read this book partially as research for it.
Source: Amazon
Book Review: A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Donald Miller
Summary:
In this memoir Donald Miller recalls how turning his previous memoir into a movie impacted his life. When working on the script, Donald learned what makes a good story and started applying it to his current life. He went from sitting on the couch all day watching tv to biking across the country to raise money for clean water in Africa.
Review:
This book could have been brilliant. It contains various clear information on what makes a good story that is quite useful to writers. It also is inspirational in asking us to stop watching characters live stories and live our own. Unfortuantely, Miller persists in plopping in his spiritual ideas, which tend toward the mainstream Christian variety. I don’t mind skimming over a few praise God’s. I do, however, get profoundly irritated when a writer goes from saying something meaningful like life is about what we learn and not about achieving something in particular to saying that the people with the worst lives have it the best because they’ll appreciate heaven more. Um, excuse me, what the hell?! It’s such an odd mental position to take. Can you imagine saying that to someone with AIDs or a starving child or someone who’s being abused? Then, to take the mental oddness further, he goes on to seek to help people better their lives. That’s great that he does that, but it seems that based on his theory that a rough life leads to a better after-life that he’s just stealing a good after-life from these people. My brain hurts just thinking about that mind-fuck.
I guess what made the book such a frustrating read for me is that I can see Miller being so close to a humanist view but then ruining his current life by pining for the after-life. He talks a lot about what makes a good story but I bet even he could see that a movie wouldn’t be any fun if a character spends the whole film pining for something that he isn’t sure is actually going to happen to the extent that he misses things happening right now.
That said, the book is well-written and does contain some memorable scenes and people. Actually, I wish the book had been about some of the people featured in it in lieu of Miller, such as the family that went around interviewing world leaders with their children or the man who went from a childhood in the ghetto to running a law firm to running a mentoring program. At least we get to hear a bit about them though.
On the other hand, Miller’s view of the world tends to rip you from the story and make you want to smack him upside the head. Like when he tells the story of how a man stole his ex-girlfriend’s cat and then told her on the phone he was going to hurt it if she didn’t come back to him then proceeded to squeeze the cat until it cried. Miller called this “depravingly charming” (219). Um, no, it’s awful! And Miller finds this story inspiring because the man “found Jesus” and “changed.”
It basically reads almost as if two different people wrote the memoir. One who recognizes we have one life to live and it’s better to live it doing things than sitting on the couch. The other spends his time with his head in the clouds hoping for the after-life and believing in the power of a dead man. If you can handle the cognitive dissonance in those two stances, you’ll enjoy the book as it is written well. If you find it as troubling as I do, though, you should skip it.
2.5. out of 5 stars
Source: Won from Minski of okay, peanut
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Opinions of a Wolf 