Memoir: Where Memory Meets Imagination
Diana M. Raab -- October 18, 2007
My fascination with the issues of memory and imagination in memoir-writing stretches back to my graduate school days. To fulfill the requirements for my MFA in Nonfiction Writing I had to teach a class and the catalyst and inspiration for my study was Patricia Hampl's essay, "Memory and Imagination."
Most memoirists tend to be middle-age and beyond. Years before James Frey published his own memoir, I'd been curious how writers dealt with their failing memories as they embarked on writing the journey of their life. Much went unsaid on this subject. The reader believed everything they read to be true and the writer (whether consciously or unconsciously) used his fiction license as permission to fill in memory gaps.
This September 29th at the Santa Barbara Book and Author Festival, I decided to revisit the issue by moderating a panel of memoirists called, "Memoir: Where Memory Meets Imagination." I solicited the participation of four fine authors to help discuss this timely and sometimes caustic issue -- Louise Steinmen, author of The Souvenir, James Brown, novelist and author of L.A. Diaries, Dinah Lenney, author of Bigger Than Life, and Philip F. Deaver, who's currently writing a memoir.
Another reason for revisiting this issue is the recent release of my own memoir, Regina's Closet: Finding My Grandmother's Secret Journal (Beaufort Books, September 2007). I'd be remiss to say that I did not encounter memory lapses while working on this book, after all I was writing about my relationship with my own grandmother more than forty years after her death.
One of the questions I posed to my panelists was if they could describe the patterns of their memory, keeping in mind that memory style tends to inform our prose and shape our narrative. For me, I remember the details of events by the emotional undertones associated with those events. For example, I remember the queasy feeling in my stomach the morning I found my grandmother dead in her bedroom beside me when I was ten years old. I recall the fear, wonder and confusion encircling my young brain. If I sit and think about it long and hard, I can also recall the smell in her room, the sounds of the creaking wooden floor and many of the details of the environment in which I found her; a scene that I have repeatedly described in my numerous revisions of the book. I believe if you recall one aspect of memory and put yourself there, a deluge of memories will flood forth. It's almost as if you need to channel yourself back to the time you want to remember. In fact, panelist Louise Steinman used that term, which reminded me of a suggestion given to me by my mentor during my graduate work when I was stumped by some gaps in memory.
She suggested I channel with my grandmother, which meant sitting quietly in a comfortable chair, thinking about her, calling her name. I would then ask to set up an appointment to speak with her. When we met, I'd ask her all the questions needed to fill in the gaps in my memoir. After getting over the initial shock that such a thing could actually be done, I scheduled our meeting at eleven o'clock the following morning. I was astounded by its success. I will refrain from sharing all the details here, you need to read my memoir!
Another question I posed of my panelists was "How did your family react to your memoir?" The answers were almost as diverse as the type of published memoirs. James Brown said he finished his memoir towards the end of his mother's life and told her specifically that he didn't want her to read it. "Why hurt her?" he said. He confessed that sections of the book would have bothered her. Dinah Lenney when talking about her father's murder and sharing the book with her teenage kids, said they denied saying certain things when they were younger.
"I'm their mother," she said, "They were young and didn't remember what they said, but I do," she said having complete faith in the accuracy of her memories.
My own experience was different. Although parts of my book didn't cast the best light on my own mother, I knew that I was expressing my own emotional truth. I realized that some sections were harsh and might have hurt her feelings. Luckily when she commented on my book, she did not mention those parts and focused on the fact that I'd undertaken such a daunting project.
"You're wonderful," she told me, which was probably one of the few times she'd paid me a compliment. To me, the five-year journey of writing the memoir was worth her acknowledgment.
Most of the panelists agreed, as will most memoirists, that writing about a painful event in our lives not only sheds light on it, but the exercise can be cathartic. I always believed that writers write stories not necessarily because they want to write them, but because they have to write them. In other words, they might have to examine their past before they're able to move forward.
Beginning a memoir is always a challenge. James Brown suggested, amongst his many tips on writing that you should start with a compelling scene. He certainly had many of those in his book, ones which remain vivid in my mind, as well, even later.
Following the panel, we rushed over to autograph our books and within a short period of time I was told that James Brown's memoir sold out. I was not in the least bit surprised. Not only does he write with absolute candor, but he talks and walks with frankness and honesty. This is a very appealing attribute for a memoir writer. It makes you trust their words and believe in their story. It simply makes you want to read their work. It also proves to me that personalities sell books. With this in mind, I go off on my book tour, but before I leave, I must say that moderating this fine panel of writers has truly inspired me and got me in the right frame of mind before heading out.