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Lives of Girls and Women

 I like the personal essay because it's accessible to anyone; you do not need a talent for inventing characters or finding clever rhymes. You can look out your window, or make a list of your grudges--and, suddenly, you have an essay.


To me, the exciting moment in a personal essay is the space between paragraphs. It's here where eccentricity pops up. If you're writing, a certain word or image can lead you on a bizarre, digressive path--a path no one else would take--and that's the fun of the essay.

A great example is Yiyun Li's recent piece for the NY Times. I have no idea how she achieves what she achieves. She begins by talking about her teaching life--how she is drawn to one story, by Amy Bloom--but the discussion of the story paves the way for a surprising tour of crazy people in the world. We see Li's mother, making an accusation: "You love your children more than you love me." We see Li's despondent child, with a question: "If you understand suffering, how could you choose to make a new life, Mom?" We see an angry reader at a Barnes and Noble event: "Can I ask one question? Do you love your kids? Then how could you ever consider suicide?" (Li's private response is wonderful: "I decided not to point out her own promise to stick to one question....")

This essay seems to unearth one hundred mysteries--without offering any answers--and its gracefulness, its apparent ease, is really startling to me.

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