Originally I created this blog to review books. Within short order, I discovered I don’t like doing book reviews. Books are all about processing. How do they make me write out loud? When will they? Will they ever?
I am thirty percent through Marilyn Armstrong’s memoir The Twelve Foot Teepee and loving it. She is constantly surprising me. Case in point: her abusive father offering her a job in his company as a clerk when she “was already an editor at a major publishing house. I knew that unless I chose to, I never had to see my father at all. The humor was lost on him.”
Marilyn has cause to more than gripe about her father. The thing is I never feel like I am reading a book trying to work out her demons. In my experience, including my own demon writings, writing about them can easily get it wrong. My demons are not entertaining, compelling or fascinating. Not yet at least.
Marilyn’s are. Her book is a terrific example of getting it right. It is an extremely well written memoir. Then again, stay tuned, I am only thirty percent through it. I warn you though. I did suggest she raise the price.