If you haven't read Anne Lamott's books, I just want to make a pitch here. I recently tore through the newest collections of essays, and I miss them already. I miss the direct connection Lamott can make with a reader.
This person's general approach is to take moments of deep pain or embarrassment and narrate these moments, as clearly as possible. At her best, she resists bromides. (She is not always at her best.) Her point seems to be: Whatever pain you're enduring, it's not unique to you. This--alone--is a comfort.
Lamott writes about an alcoholic friend who plowed her vehicle into a family (and now must live with the knowledge that she is responsible for a few deaths). Lamott also writes about a suicidal acquaintance--about the wish to help, the feeling of powerlessness, and the struggle not to "blame" the acquaintance after the suicide has occurred. It's easy enough to find meaning and sustenance when there are new babies in your life, Lamott writes (or she writes something like this). What do you do when things are unbearably hard?
Maybe my fondest Lamott memory is the story she tells about her young motherhood. Her kid is in school, and she--Lamott--can't really be bothered to read all the memos about cupcakes, pickup time, and so on. (She has books to write!) With maybe just a slight sense of entitlement, Lamott routinely arrives an hour late to collect her son. (I was a classroom teacher. I know this kind of parent, and I know the feelings this parent can inspire.)
Lamott is a mess, and a judgy Republican neighbor wants to "help" her. "I hear you're having trouble with some of the rules of the classroom," the neighbor says. "I'd love to sit down with you--over coffee--and review our routines."
This is such a great set-up, because we've all endured the intrusions of a righteous busybody. And we've all been Lamott, asking for special treatment, feeling disappointed in ourselves, not acknowledging that disappointment.
I'm not sure how many writers would recognize the material in this scenario, and how many would write with humor and insight about the series of half-misunderstandings that follow.
Anyway, I think Lamott is pretty close to a genius, I think she has earned her spot in the California Hall of Fame (whatever that is), and I recall something from her work, just silently, in my head, maybe once per day. Her new book--a good book--is "Dusk, Night, Dawn."
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