Skip to main content

My Dream Writer: Ruth Reichl

A few thoughts on Ruth Reichl's "Save Me the Plums," now causing waves in bookstores:

*Reichl says, in childhood, she was drawn to fairy stories. In such a story, there would often be a "magic door," a portal to another world. Reichl understood that food could be her own magic door. By paying very close attention to the things she was eating, Reichl could begin to narrate fairy stories of "a different sort." She could have an adventurous life. (Reichl can also be unsentimental about writing. She says a gift of newspaper-writing is: seeing your carefully-crafted words from yesterday "wrapping up today's fish." Writing is a job, just as fish-preparation is a job.)

*One thing that inspires me about Reichl is her sense of empathy. Reichl does not describe her adversaries with a sense of incomprehension. Instead, she takes the time to understand where people are coming from. So, for example, Reichl tangles with her advertising director, but she doesn't demonize this director. She knows the director needs to sell, sell, sell. As Reichl describes the director with amusement ("The thought of stepping into a subway terrified her"), we're able to see the scene *both* from Reichl's perspective *and* from her adversary's perspective. That's good storytelling.

*Reichl is able to laugh at herself. Some of the humor in the newest memoir comes from Reichl's sense of bafflement in the offices of a big magazine. "I'm great with a teeosee," says one thirsty employee, and Reichl has to call a friend, covertly, to grasp what this word means. "T.O.C.," says the friend. "Table of Contents."

Reichl also captures for us how uncomfortable she is at Meeting One, and we feel her sweat; we relive her anxiety, with her, as she forgets all the words she planned to say. Portraying yourself in such a vulnerable way takes real confidence. Reichl isn't afraid to let us see her foolishness and humanity.

*Reichl can also spot a metaphor before many of us can. A seemingly innocuous discussion about a chocolate cake, at "Gourmet," is really a way for peons to test whether Reichl knows what the hell she is talking about. The tension and suspense, and inherent silliness, in this moment, all make me think of Meryl Streep in "The Devil Wears Prada." I wonder if Reichl watched this.

*Finally, I love this book because of its back photo, which has Reichl standing by some outdoor chairs, overlooking a grand vista (the Hudson River?) Reichl has come so far in her life. She grew up in a tricky household, but she didn't allow her difficulties to hold her back. She makes me think of a Viktor Frankl observation--"You can control very little in life, but you *can* control your own response to adversity"--and (again) she inspires me. I'm curious to read her book about childhood (which has had at least two titles), and possibly "Comfort Me with Apples" -- very soon.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

Joshie

  When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...

Josh at Five

 Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...