In Defense of the Memoir

In the January 25th edition of the New Yorker Magazine, Daniel Mendelsohn tackles the subject of memoir and its rise in importance within the popular culture in his essay, entitled But Enough About Me. From the internet blogosphere, (of which I am guilty of partaking), to the public's fascination with reality t.v. (of which I am not), Mendelsohn examines the fine line between fiction and memoir and the power that the promise of a "true" story has on a reader. His deft criticism has caused me once again to examine my own fascination and attraction to the genre.

As a late baby boomer, I have had the privilege of being mid-wife to the birthing of memoirs, to witnessing the transformation that comes from the labor of facing the sometimes painful and often times revelatory stories of a generation who did not grow up with a constant diet of therapy and Oprah.
While my bias for self-expression through the personal narrative is obvious, just last week in my memoir workshop with participants between the ages of sixty- something and eighty- something, I was struck by how the need for the high touch experience of sitting in a literal circle reading to one another one's life stories is a phenomenon that will likely die out with that generation of story-tellers.

While I understand the criticism that is heaped upon the genre of personal memoir, I hold to my firm belief that the process of story-telling can be healing. I also understand that the "true" story lends an inherent drama that can be inspiring. Listening to how a family survived the Great Depression, sacrificed during World War II, carried on after the death of their child or built their lives and fortunes from scratch, not only provides perspective for future generations, but allows the story-teller to understand his or her own journey and to derive meaning from their experiences. Some call this self-reflection therapeutic. Some may call it narcissistic.

The fact that the public seems to have an insatiable curiosity and need for such stories I think says something about the post-baby boom culture. The generation of storytellers with whom I work experienced true hardship but they experienced it within the structure of family, church, community, and neighborhood. I realize that much has been written about shifting values, lack of community, and sense of entitlement that permeates the culture today. But, the more I work with "elders", the more I believe that the erosion of the community has contributed to a vast feeling of isolation in our society. This, coupled with the illusion of connectivity through technology, cable television, and reality shows, has distorted and confused the collective psyche. The cheap confessional is a way to make the reader, audience, viewer feel "not so alone." It is a distant replacement for the authentic connection experienced by the pre-boomer generation.

At the same time, the stories that emerge from my circle of writers are every bit as stunning as the stuff of cable television - heroic tales of heartache, intrigue, abuse, deceit, and romance. The fact that these stories are being shared for the first time is liberating and transforming for the writer. While today's generation reveals all - all the time - the writers in my workshop are experiencing the thrill of something fresh and new.

The last of a breed, the generation of storytellers in my workshops may be the last for whom the process of writing one's personal narrative is true "discovery."

I also believe their stories are a history and legacy of heartier souls.

I have born witness not only to a unique period in self-revelation resulting from the boom of autobiography, but because of it, I have also born witness to the stories and the collective wisdom that has shaped their generation.
Because of this, I do not despair for the future. I draw courage because I know through their stories, that even the hardest things are survivable. Especially if you stick together.

I don't need to get lost on some fictional t.v. island to discover that truth.

And I don't apologize for believing that memoir, as a genre, is important and valuable for both the reader and the writer.