Anne Lamott is the queen of the personal essay, and it's unjust that she doesn't even want to be doing this. She wants to retire. But the stories still come out of her.
Lamott's gift is an ability to see material where others would see nothing.
Today I woke up old and awful in every way. I simultaneously cannot bear the news and can't turn it off--Gaza, Israel, the shootings in Maine. Cobra hypnosis. The world is dark as a scarab. I have two memorial services this week. A dear friend is dying; she keeps assuring me, "I ain't in no ways tired." And I say, "Stop with that, or I'm not going to visit again."
Lamott makes herself a character; she pokes fun at her own hyperbolic misery ("old and awful in every way"). She then highlights her own pettiness. A dying friend's sense of resilience is a pet peeve. "Stop with that!" Who could fail to relate?
To me, an essay is a chance to show off various crazed characters--and Lamott does this so well. We see her contemplating her seventieth birthday: "Now, for me, a celebration is just a choice to skip flossing for one night." We see The Future Mr. Anne Lamott getting philosophical on a first date: "I DON'T KNOW is a portal to richness...." We see a neighbor, choosing between graciousness and standoffishness; we actually notice the split-second transformation, the moment of change.
These are wonderful stories--and Lamott makes the work look easy. I'm happy to anticipate the arrival of the new book.
Comments
Post a Comment