Mary Karr is one hell of a writer. As a person, however, she's looking heavenward.
This fact is nowhere in evidence in today's review of her latest memoir, "Lit," by ace reviewer Michiko Kakutani in The New York Times. It may be fair to conclude that Kakutani is one of those readers who Karr refers to when she writes in the book, "You could say I needed God then, which notion would've gagged me like a maggot. But if you're a nonbeliever, replace the word God with truth or mercy..."
Fascinating, isn't it, that you can discuss sex with the guy next to you on the bus and wear your politics on your sleeve. But religion is so -- well, personal. So hard to approach without sounding like a right-wing fanatic. As one novelist wrote to Karr after learning that she'd become a Roman Catholic: "Not you on the pope's team!"
To recap: Karr, a poet, is the author of two previous memoirs, "The Liars' Club" and "Cherry." In both, she revealed a storytelling skill and wordsmithery that is nearly unparalleled. It's a joy to read her stories, even if they center on a dysfunctional childhood in which her mother was as reliable as an umbrella in a hundred-mile gale. "Lit" reveals the same writing ability -- glorious lines not to mention insights she picks up along the way. For instance: "What hurts so bad about youth isn't the actual butt whippings the world delivers. It's the stupid hopes playacting like certainties." Or "Pain is required... suffering is optional."
No, what's really different about this memoir is that Karr herself becomes the drunk, the unstable one, downing her son's cough syrup, twirling around road dividers, knowing her husband is in the bed next to her and yet a million miles away. And the only way she finds to escape repeating her mother's story is to make a new deal. It's that simple. She had to give up her own struggle and give it to God.
I'm not trying to proselytize here. I'm just slapping a warning label on Karr's book. This is the recovery narrative told by a writer with great gifts, and I recommend it. But for better or worse, it's not another version of "The Liars' Club." In "Lit," Karr is not done to. She does the misdeeds to others -- her son, Dev, in particular. She is both less forgivable and more forgiven than in her earlier works. If the possibility of redemption is in your playbook, you'll appreciate both the writing and the spirit behind it.
--Ellen
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