My Favorite Memoir

Erica Jong gave birth to Molly Jong-Fast and disappeared; Molly was raised by nannies.

Although famous for her feminism, Erica was mostly focused on men; she auditioned a series of boyfriends, who would befriend Molly, then evaporate. Erica wrote several books in which little Molly was a supporting player and Erica was the hero; Molly refused to read the books ("they would not help me protect myself"), but strangers would often approach her to discuss her secrets. Through these interactions, Molly identified the bits of her own life that had been offered up in print.

Erica described her parenting as "benign neglect," but Molly questioned this label. Is Mom benign if she misinterprets your actions and mocks you in a novel? People in Molly's life demanded that Erica spend an hour per day with her daughter; the expectation was too harsh, so it was downgraded to half an hour.

Molly became an addict but saved herself; somehow, in her late teens, she dragged herself to AA (and possibly to NA), and she began to stitch together her own adult life. She wrote about her own worst behavior. She had a family.

In her mid-forties, Molly realized that Erica had severe dementia and required round-the-clock care. (It was "the human shit in the bed" that finally sounded five alarms.) Molly told herself that she was losing her mother, but then she asked, "How do I lose her if I never had her?" As Erica became a husk of her former self, Molly also struggled to digest the news that her spouse had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. ("It's the GOOD kind of pancreatic cancer!" Molly said. And her spouse showed her "murderous eyes.")

Molly--aware of her status as a bad daughter--resolved to visit Erica once per week. But then the resolution changed. Once every TWO weeks. Molly began to sit quietly in a corner of the room and to think mean thoughts about her mom. "She was famous, but she wanted to be FAMOUS FAMOUS, like Roth or Updike. But she picked the wrong field. People no longer care about books. Roth and Updike were clearly more talented than Mom--but, also, no one cares about Roth and Updike in 2025."

I really love this memoir. I love that Molly does not let herself off the hook; she is as "challenging" as Erica herself. I love the twin timelines; you're reading about a deranged event in 2020, and suddenly you're back in 1975, reading about an *earlier* deranged event. (It's a special highlight when Barnard decides that Erica's dementia does *not* make her incapable of giving remarks to students. "She can totally do it!") Finally, I love that Molly plunges you into various "scenes"; there isn't a great deal of expository throat-clearing. The many moments when Erica greets a small child with her own breasts spilling out of her unfastened robe--and the moments when Erica gives vicious, unsolicited, ranting toasts at weddings--are all treats.

Sometimes, I get tired of crime fiction; it's as if I've eaten way too many chocolate-covered strawberries. Molly Jong-Fast has been "thrown from the sky." It's as if she is saying, "Here's how you write a book." What a triumph.

How to Host a Baby

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Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic. She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...

Liars and Saints

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