HALLIE EPHRON: Here we are again, come full circle to WHAT WE’RE WRITING WEEK. And leading off, let me tell you about the class I’m putting together on “Writing from Experience.” It’s for people who reach a point in their life when they want to get their thoughts and memories down on the page and, in the process, figure out what the heck they think about all that stuff that went on.
I use examples from my own writing, examples that follow the memoir-writing advice of Philip Lopate ("To Show and To Tell") to make oneself into a character. And at the same time to take my own advice about storytelling: give the main character (me) a problem.
Here’s one of the examples:
It was September and I was starting eighth grade, the same year my sister Delia left for college. I’d moved out of the room I shared with my baby sister Amy and into Delia’s room, a sliver of space carved from the side of the house. The room was papered in fat yellow cabbage roses floating on a field of pale gray.Just for fun, here's a photograph of me with my sister Delia on the left and Amy on the right, in about the year I'm writing about.
The room was so small that if I stood up from the bed and took giant step, I’d run into the door. But it was mine, all mine, even if the walk-through closet was still half-full of Delia’s clothes. Even if when Delia was on school breaks I had go back to sleeping in the big bedroom with the annoying Amy.
My very own phone hung on the side of the desk beside the bed. I could talk to my best friend, any time of day or night with nobody watching me and asking, "Who are you talking to?" or "Do you have to breathe like a hippopotamus?" or "Did you just fart?"
Problem was, at that moment, I was fresh out of best friends.
As I’ve been putting together the material for my class, I made a very short list of books to recommend… my own personal favorites.
Bossy Pants - Tina Fey
The Liars’ Club - Mary Karr
On Writing - Stephen King
The Color of Water - James McBride
Eat Pray Love - Elizabeth Gilbert
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings - Maya Angelou
The Glass Castle - Jeannette Walls
This Boy’s Life by Tobias Wolff
Left on Tenth by Delia Ephron
So two questions:
- Do you read memoirs, and if you do what memoir(s) would you recommend?
- And... If YOU were writing about your childhood bedroom, what detail would make it distinctly YOURS? (It's that thing that writing teachers go on and on about: the telling detail.)
Bossy Pants - Tina Fey
The Liars’ Club - Mary Karr
On Writing - Stephen King
The Color of Water - James McBride
Eat Pray Love - Elizabeth Gilbert
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings - Maya Angelou
The Glass Castle - Jeannette Walls
This Boy’s Life by Tobias Wolff
Left on Tenth by Delia Ephron
So two questions:
- Do you read memoirs, and if you do what memoir(s) would you recommend?
- And... If YOU were writing about your childhood bedroom, what detail would make it distinctly YOURS? (It's that thing that writing teachers go on and on about: the telling detail.)
I do not tend to read memoirs, so I don't have any recommendations . . . .
ReplyDeleteIf I were writing about my childhood bedroom, that one detail would be that it was never specifically mine alone . . . Jean and I always [happily] shared a bedroom and the fact that we were in it together would make it specifically ours. I'm not certain how I'd have felt about that if we were just siblings rather than twins, but I see everything [even bedrooms] through the eyes of being a twin . . . .
seems like there's something SO special about being a twin. And I confess when you said you "see everything [even bedrooms]..." I was sure the next word was going to be "double." Wondering, do you mean you imagine what Jean would see?
DeleteI'm certain Jean would see things the same way if she'd been asked about our childhood bedroom . . . we just always saw ourselves as "the twins" or "the two of us" . . . .
DeleteIt's been a while since I read a memoir, but now that you've reminded me of the fact, I need to pull one from my shelf and start again. King's On Writing is always on my recommended list.
ReplyDeleteAs for my childhood bedroom, what immediately comes to mind is the horrible shade of purple I chose for it. My mom had decided I'd reached an age where I could make the room my own with whatever color I wanted. Now, there's nothing wrong with purple. But this particular purple illustrates my lack of talent as an interior designer. I also remember my huge corner desk--a better choice made at the same time as the color scheme. I did my homework there, listened to Casey Kasem's Top 40 countdown on my radio that lived on that desk, and wrote my first few teenage fan fiction "novels" there.
Love it Annette. I too was allowed to choose my room colors in high school. The walls were orange, and then there was a white shag rug!
DeleteLucy, my sister and I had hot pink furry foot shaped rugs in the 1970’s.
DeletePurple! Hot Pink! And that orangey-gold that doesn't have a name. Of an era. I painted my bedroom beige which I immediately hated. Wouldabeen happier with a jazzier color.
DeleteI read a lot of memoirs. I was in the very small percentage of people who loathed EAT PRAY LOVE. (I found the movie even worse.) I think the memoirs that mean the most to me are ones to which I have some emotional connection before I pick it up. Perhaps this is true for everyone? For example, I thought THE GLASS CASTLE was very well written, but I'd never reread it, and I reread everything. However I loved Jimmy Carter's AN HOUR BEFORE DAYLIGHT, about his childhood. My mother, a year older than Carter, had a girl's version of the same childhood in the rural, poor Deep South of the 1920s and I feel connected to her whenever I read Carter's book.
ReplyDeleteI could never write a memoir. I was a daydreaming child and from age 7 such a reader that I rarely noticed unhappy dramas around me because I was so distracted by stories I read. We lived beside a swamp and when I wasn't reading I was often off alone, pretending to be with Francis Marion, or perhaps cantering over a homemade course of jumps between the trees, pretending to be a horse. (Selden)
But Selden -- if you wrote that memoir of your childhood, I would read it! Who could resist stories of you "cantering over a homemade course of jumps between the trees, pretending to be a horse".
DeleteSounds like a pretty idyllic childhood, Selden. I so agree with Amanda... I want to hear more!
DeleteDidn't everyone do that, Selden? I certainly did!
DeleteI don't read many memoirs, although sometimes one of you points out a memoir in a What Are We Reading post and I think I'd enjoy it. I did read Michelle Obama's and loved it. Now I want to read Delia's. And yours, Hallie!
ReplyDeleteI wrote a memoir about my year in Ougadougou while I was there, but it remains unpublished, needing a LOT of of work. I had a book with me that year about writing memoir, and I remember one piece of advice was, "Write the truth about people, but kindly."
My childhood bedroom, usually shared with my just older sister, had ballerina wallpaper. We both took lessons (along with my oldest sister) for years, and I loved lying in bed tracing the dancers and the wavy music score behind them, watching the repeating patterns, and imagining things.
The room also had a large closet, which we kids variously transformed into an office, a schoolroom, a secret clubhouse. Fond memories.
This reminds me of the wallpaper in our front hall. The house was built (and wallpapered) in 1926 and the wallpaper going up the stairs was the history of transportation. It was the first paper we removed... during a blizzard, hot water and a scraper.
DeleteYes, I do read memoirs. Usually I listen to the audiobook version read by the author.
ReplyDeleteThe most recent ones was MAKING IT SO by Patrick Stewart.
WE WERE DREAMERS: AN IMMIGRANT SUPERHERO ORIGIN STORY by Simu Liu
As an only child, I always had my own bedroom. The room I had from age 7-19 was very PINK (walls, bedspread) and had a tall bookcase & white princessy desk. Very girly.
Going now to find the audio book of Patrick Sewart's memoir... I'm such a fan of the actor and the series. Thanks, Grace!
DeleteI want to know more about you, that sliver of a bedroom, and how you made friends, Hallie!
ReplyDeleteI love memoirs and read a lot of them. Most recently Huma Abedin's BOTH/AND, which I'm now following up with Hillary Clinton's WHAT HAPPENED -- I read it when it first came out in 2017, but it has particular heft these political days in the US.
Not every memoir provides what I look for: an interesting slice of life, well written with a view to illuminating the author's experience while giving the reader openings into their own life.
As for childhood bedrooms, I would write about two: one from our days in Montreal; that room spanned the width of the house and was big enough for my bed, etc. and also a play area with a table for my drawing and homework. The other bedroom was PURPLE -- not the walls, but the bedspread. I'd have to think hard to bring the details to life, but I remember spending happy hours listening to Simon and Garfunkel albums in that room.
I, too, had a purple bedroom. When we moved from the rural town where I grew up to the suburbs, I was just 14. My mother let me choose my room color and I wanted purple. Her decorator, a cousin of my dad's, was insistent that I have white flowered wallpaper on 3 sides and only one purple wall. Some battles are not worth fighting.
DeleteI agree, Amanda, not every memoir provides what I'm looking for either. A review of Cher's new autobiography made me want to read it (I hope she's the reader.)
DeleteI do read memoirs occasionally, but I buy more than I read. The two audiobook memoirs that I recently enjoyed are read by the actors, Whoopi Goldberg and William Shatner. I loved both of them, especially for the feeling of being let in on secret confidences. I tried to listen to Greenlights by Matthew McConaughey but DNF about 1/3 of the way through. Love his voice but didn't love him excusing some of the brutality of his childhood. If I borrow it again (Hoopla), I'll start where I left off. Otherwise, I have a shelf full of memoirs that stare down at me impatiently, as if to ask, "When are you going to pick me up?"
ReplyDeleteMy childhood bedroom was on the first floor of a turn-of-the-20th-Century two family home owned by my grandmother. My room had a double window overlooking the gravel driveway and the lilac bushes of the house next door. The furniture was heavy maple, orange colored with rounded edges. There was a print of Van Gogh's messy bedroom on my wall and I thought that someone had painted a picture of my room because the colors were similar. Years later, I saw that painting and it really wasn't that much like my old room. But childhood imaginations fill in the gaps. No?
Also, we're all such little narcissists as kids... it's got to... has to... always must be about ME!
DeleteGreenlights annoyed the heck out of me, too, Judy. He's so weird.
DeleteI shared my childhood bedroom with my annoying younger sister. Mint green wallpaper festooned with ballerinas in pink and yellow tutus, with yellow curtains and bedspreads. At some point, Mom added a ratty oriental rug in blues and greens and a bookcase. I lay in the sun on the rug and read.
ReplyDeleteLovely images, Margaret! This is makiing me wonder how my kids would describe their growing-up bedrooms. I think I'd rather not know
DeleteSo for the last few minutes I've been thinking about my childhood bedroom. I'm sure there was wallpaper but no idea what it looked like; I know I had not picked it out. My room was previously my great uncle's room and I shared a different room with my younger sister. I do not recall my great uncle ever staying with us so maybe it was just a room for his hideous furniture. That furniture was dark and heavy, maybe mahogany. I'm not sure when that room became mine but I know it was mine when I was in seventh grade. The twin size bed was one given to my family - no idea where uncle's bed went. On the wall was a large bulletin board, made for me by my grandfather. I think now that that was the only thing that made the room uniquely mine.
ReplyDeleteI enjoy memoirs and the most recent ones I have read are Cher's and one by Sen. Tammy Duckworth, which I enjoyed immensely. The title is Every Day is A Gift. If you are not familiar with her, she was born in Thailand to an American father and a Thai-Chinese mother. She joined the Army and became a helicopter pilot. Her chopper was shot down, which is how she lost her legs. An amazing story!
One I read a few years ago was by Oksana Masters, a girl in a Ukrainian orphanage who suffered untold horrors on top of many birth defects. She was adopted by an American woman and has gone on to win many gold medals in the Paralympics. if possible, her story was even more amazing than Tammy's!
Hallie, I've only read a couple from your list: Bossy Pants and Left on Tenth. I tried reading The Glass Castle but didn't get very far.
Now I want to know what was on that bulletin board.... which can take us into scrapbooking. I was never organized enough to keep one but now I wish I had. Another topic for another blog day.
DeleteGood question, Hallie! All I can tell you is it must have been teen-age girl stuff. i don't recall any specifics at all
DeleteI don't read many memoirs, but I did read two last year that are worth mentioning. Wendy Mitchell's Somebody I Used to Know is the story of the author's diagnosis and struggles with early-onset dementia. She came up with lots of life hacks to help herself, traveled and spoke publicly and advocated for others with this terrible illness. I didn't exactly enjoy it, but I so appreciated her spirit.
ReplyDeleteThe other one (on a completely different theme) was The Oregon Trail: A New American Journey by Rinker Buck. He and his brother bought a replica wagon like those used in the 1800s and drove it with three mules from Missouri to Baker City, Oregon. Because I have ancestors who made that journey in the 1850s, I was fascinated. The author (and his brother) had backgrounds that uniquely suited them for this project. It was an amazing adventure, very dangerous at times, and the relationship between the two brothers was put to the test by the stresses of the journey and the constant time together.
Fascinating story! Sounds like it would make a great documentary. Also a topic for another day... I do love good documentaries.
DeleteThat sounds great, Gillian. The hardships of travel in those days are fascinating.
DeleteYou might also be interested in the memoir of Isabella L. Bird, A Lady's Life in the Rockies. Bird was the daughter of a British clergyman who had a sickly early life, but was determined to explore the frontier of the American West in 1873. Mostly on her own. It's a remarkable story.
When I gave writing workshops at AIDS Healing retreats, I used a couple of exercises for participants that merged memoir with a recall of details. One was to choose a room in their childhood home and describe it. The second was a framing device--to literally use a piece of paper with a 'window' cut out of it to frame a detail in a room and write from there. What was fascinating to me was that the room which most often came to mind was the kitchen. I will read memoir if I find the writing compelling, even if I'm not familiar with the writer. I read Delia's book in one sitting, and I've read quite a bit of Ann Lamott's work. But, like Selden, I read Eat, Pray, Love and thought 'meh, boring.' I'm going to find Tammy Duckworth's memoir--that sounds like a story I want to read!
ReplyDeleteMy bedroom was also always shared--but the one I remember most was when I was a teenager. My mom let me paint the bedroom I shared with my sisters a soft yellow. Then she made quilts from a Hawaiian print of blues and yellows and greens, giving each quilt borders of one of the colors so that each was slightly different. Then she made matching curtains from the same fabric. There was a table to sit at and write, a bookshelf. But the best detail was outside. Tall lilac bushes grew along the east side of the house and in the late spring, with the windows open at night, the sun-warmed fragrance of those lilacs would waft into the room with every slight breeze.
SO GORGEOUS!! Love those colors and I can absolutely "see" it... Wow. And I love that you described the wall color as "soft yellow" which so conveys how much it pleased you.
DeleteThanks, Hallie! We sisters got the bug from our mom--changing things up with colors and patterns was something she loved to do. I have a 'warm blue' in my living room now--reminds me of a tropical lagoon when the light hits it even on an Ohio winter's day. And a 'cool yellow' in my bedroom that feels refreshing even in the midst of a heatwave.
DeleteI am only an occasional reader of memoirs, but I often enjoy them a lot when I read them. Two that pop to mind for me are Michelle Obama's, which others have mentioned, and Willie Nelson's, titled IT'S A LONG STORY. I listened to the audio version of it. Willie read the foreword of the book, and from there a professional reader took over. He had a West Texas twang very similar to Willie's, which made it feel a lot like Willie was telling his own story. Willie's was an interesting life, and the language showed much of the clear, uncomplicated poetry of his songs.
ReplyDeleteMy childhood bedroom was painted lime green, and had curtains, a quilt and some other small items made of a busy, very 70's print fabric in orange, brown and yellow with orange fabric accents, all made by my mother. I can barely remember any furniture, but I do clearly remember the colors.
Love those colors, and that your mother made the curtains and quilts.
DeleteHallie, history of transportation wallpaper?? I love that! Oh gosh, I would love that!.
ReplyDeleteI shared a bedroom with my sister, which I hated, and it was not fair. Let me just say that :-)
One year my parents decided to give us a bedroom makeover, and we returned from school to find white French provincial bed frames, and a white French provincial double dresser and mirror, and blue, white and gold French provincial wallpaper. It was absolutely ridiculous.
My sister loved it, but I thought it was… I don’t know. Girly? Pretentious?
I made my feelings known by covering my side of the wall with Beatle trading cards, which I stuck onto the fancy wallpaper with scotch tape. I got in an immense amount of trouble, you can imagine.(I am now realizing I was such an ungrateful child, and I am so sorry for that.)
One of my other memories from that bedroom was my first day of school in the eighth grade, I went to get my first day of school clothes from their hangers in the closet, and heard a weird noise coming from behind the closet door.
Our cat Mrs. Purdy had given birth to kittens on the closet floor! I still have to go to school, and I was very unhappy about that, missing the kittens.
Do I read memoirs? I guess I don’t. Although I am reading Ina Garten. Sort of. :-)
Hank, your plate is overflowing without adding memoirs to it, though I hope one day you'll write your own.
DeleteIf only I could remember... :-)
DeleteMemoirs are touch and go with me, as I usually do not like to have my idea of someone else tarnished. Two I read and almost passed the test were the Whoopi Goldberg one – was afraid it would tarnish but it survived, and the Michelle Obama one – there was a surprising tarnish. I enjoyed the Judi Dench one, but that was more about Shakespeare than Judi. The Canadian author Alice Munro wrote short stories that I suspect was about a lot of her life. A few at a time were interesting, but sadly she publicly tarnished herself later. I suspect that I prefer someone’s life written as anecdotes published over a period of time – ala weekly essays – such as Tim Dowling in The Guardian. Sure, they could be compiled into a book, but isn’t it more fun and thought provoking one at a time. It goes without saying, I hope, that the author must be able to write, and the book is not just a list of grievances and whining.
ReplyDeleteAs for the childhood bedroom. There was the imaginary line down the middle (and I had to cross her space to get to my bed or back out to the bathroom. Tricky not stepping on the floor…
Sounds like you and I had a different sister relationship than Joan and her twin did! My sister was not allowed to cross the line in the middle of our shared bed--do NOT TOUCH ME. Years later we shared a bed as adults, and she still slept like a soldier, stock still. Sorry!
DeleteSounds about right!
DeleteInteresting, Margo, that issue you raise about a memoir "tarnishing" our view of the author. I do think you need to be brave to write a memoir because, as you say, you will be "judged" while the readers will also expect you to be honest and tell your "truth."
DeleteI do occasionally read memoirs, but so infrequently that I have no recommendations.
ReplyDeleteFor most of my childhood I shared a room with my sister. But at some point in my early teens, my parents let me have the back room to myself. I painted it a horrible shade of pink. I don't even like pink! I think it was an act of defiance. LOL
Pink: Pleh! Every room in our house was papered with pink wallpaper. Of course we got rid of it. And not too long ago I painted my office (wait for it...) pink.
DeleteI read memoir, and sometimes re-read them. Two come straight to mind. One is THE TAO OF EQUUS by Linda Kohanov, one of the pioneers of the equine-assisted learning branch of hippotherapy. A horse she'd bought for endurance riding had become injured so Kohanov learned a new way to be with horses other than riding them.
ReplyDeleteThe other that popped into mind is TOO PRETTY TO BE GOOD by CEO, podcaster, academic, event planner, poet, and exotic dancer Lindsay Byron. Her memoir is about her early years in a dying southern mill town and how she got out. Readers who blanch at profanity may want to pass, but if they do, it's their loss.
Rhonda, your recommendation reminds me of the memoir by Temple Grandin. Fascinating insights.
DeleteI venture into memoirs if they are written by authors who are describing how they used childhood and other life experiences to influence their writing. Among my favorites are Stephen Kings' On Writing, Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird and Lee Smith's Dimestore. Otherwise, I have trouble getting interested in their stories.
ReplyDeleteMy childhood memories are somewhat blurred as I was in and out of hospitals a lot. I do recall one summer when my asthma was acting up and I ended up spending the majority of the summer in my bedroom. Central air was not a thing at that point, so my folks bought a window air conditioner for my room just to aid my breathing. I couldn't tell you the color of the room or any details, but I do recall it was quite the spot to be for the whole family on hot and muggy days. Those were the days when books really became my friends and a vital part of my life. -- Victoria
Oh, Victoria - how that illness must have saped your childhood.
DeleteI read memoirs of the historical time I’m writing about. So important to give me the feel of the time snd the way characters express themselves. And childhood bedroom? On the top floor of a big old house. Freezing cold ( there was no heating apart from a small electric fire and it was s big room) it was probably haunted. The window opened by itself a couple of times and I used to dream about a procession of hood figures coming up the stairs. On the plus side I had plenty of space and had a museum on the landing with bits snd bobs borrowed from family members or donated by friends.
ReplyDeleteBrrrrr.... And did you know who your ghost was?
DeleteHallie, you were so lucky to have that privacy as a teenager! I hope you found a couple of excellent girlfriends to hang out with in that sliver of a room.
ReplyDeleteWe moved around so much when I was a kid, the downside of having a blue-collar father with alcohol issues. Which meant rented homes. A couple times it also meant only two bedrooms, which made it necessary for all four of us kids to share. Bunkbeds for me and my sister (even though I'm two years older I had to sleep on the bottom because I was a sleepwalker), a youth bed for one brother, and crib for the youngest.
My mom managed to buy a double bed with a canopy for us girls when we had our own room (the boys graduated to the now separated bunk beds), in French Provincial white with gold trim, and a shared highboy dresser to match. I was a sophomore Home Ec student then, and one of our projects was to decorate our bedroom. My mother let me paint a little side table (which I still have, stripped and refinished back again years ago) to match the bed, gussy up the curtains to coordinate with the pretty yellow and blue sprigged canopy and spread, and to arrange the meager furniture so I could say I'd made the changes on the storyboard that was part of our homework. I just ignored the one wall of ugly blue and pink plaid wallpaper, for the homework, and in real life. That project is probably what spurred my interest in interior design, come to think of it.
Oh, and besides the memoirs I mentioned the other day, another really good one is Alan Cumming's Not My Father's Son. He narrates the audiobook charmingly, and it's in equal measures uplifting and heartbreaking, about growing up queer in Scotland with an abusive and overly masculine father. And the story is full of twists.
DeleteThat book sounds like something I would enjoy (if that's the right word) so I have requested it from the library. Thank you, Karen!
DeleteYou're welcome, Judi. I'd love to hear your thoughts about when you've finished.
DeleteThat reminds me of how interesting was Anderson Cooper in The Rainbow Comes and Goes. A most interesting story and life.
DeleteI'll try to remember, Karen.
DeleteThank you for sharing , Karen! Your comments remind me of all the wonderful books of essays by David Sedaris that, together, are his memoir. And his sister Amy Sedaris's essays too.
DeleteI read the occasional memoir, Jeanette Walls comes to mind, but I wonder what the difference is between a memoir and an autobiography. Gonna have to address that question to the all-knowing a/i induced Google. My first childhood bedroom was an ode to my mother's love of early American - right down to the four-poster canopy bed. When my brother went to college, my folks gave me his bedroom and let me go to town. I created a 1960's pop-art extravaganza. Yellow walls, pink, fuchsia, turquoise, and lime accents, posters with puffy letters. It was divine, and the perfect place to hang out.
ReplyDeleteI don't think there IS a difference between memoir and autobiography. Though feeling the words, "memoir" gives you more leeway to tell it AS YOU remember it andnot worry quite as much about "truth," whatever that is.
DeleteIn this the 80th anniversary of Auschwitz, I will say that I have read many books about WW2, both fiction, non-fiction and biography. This comment from the Guardian today, should make us all afraid, and immensely sad. "Nevertheless, up to a fifth of respondents, especially young adults, believed the numbers of Jews killed had been exaggerated. Significant portions of 18- to 29-year-olds – 46% in France – said they had not heard, or did not think they had heard, of the Holocaust." Sorry to be a party-pooper.
ReplyDeleteAdded to the horrifying number of Holocaust deniers.
DeleteWhich is why it's so important to speak your truth.
DeleteI read the occasional memoir from time to time. I wonder what the difference between a memoir and an autobiography is. I read THIS TIME NEXT YEAR WE WILL BE LAUGHING by Jacqueline Winspear and I definitely would recommend it! There are many, many, many wonderful memoirs out there! I am going to take a gander at all of the memoir recommendations by everyone here.
ReplyDeleteMy memory of my childhood bedroom was a collection of books like THE LITTLE ENGINE THAT COULD, nursery rhymes and Beatrix Potter little books.
I looked that very question up, at one time, Diana. If I remember correctly, the difference involves a span of time. A memoir is about a specific length of time and an autobiography is more or less from birth to the present. I think though that those definitions are somewhat fluid. If you are writing your life story you can call it whatever you want.
DeleteJudi, thank you for explaining. Very informative!
DeleteOur bedroom was big. Built in the eaves and around the chimney, it had 6 walls papered in little violets and a cantilevered ceiling. There were two beds, three dressers and my desk with enough room on the floor to accommodate my piles of (1) dirty and (2) clean clothes. My sister would fold her clothes. I could never really get around to it. My Mother, bless her heart, tried to get me to care, but I think she understood, because she too had ADHD, though no one understood that then. Beyond my desk was a venerable cottonwood tree. Given the need, I could have exited that way. Mostly, I just watched it and daydreamed. That is, when I wasn't sitting on the floor in the walk-in closet staring at the stuff hanging in there and trying to decide how to get dressed that day. Some of my happiest moments came from following trains of thought while sitting on that floor. But still, that door had to be closed at night. No evening visits from monsters from the closet for me. There isn't anyway to separate one thing from the bedroom because all the things are tied together in a long trip down a rabbit hole. Hmm, I never considered it before, but I think my bedroom was my happy place as a child.
ReplyDeleteI don't read memoirs very often.
deaun
DeleteDaun, sounds like the material for a novel. Wow.
DeleteI like to read memoirs as well as mysteries. I am currently reading MY NAME IS BARBRA and loving it. I am getting lost in Barbra Streisand’s voice that I hear in my head as I read it.
ReplyDeleteGrowing up, my younger sister and I had to share a bedroom. My father made us headboards for our twin beds that had built in bookcases for our books. I had the bed nearest the door not the window because my side of the room was always neat and tidy unlike the mess my sister’s side was in. If guests walked by our bedroom door on the way to the bathroom, my mother wanted them to see the tidy side!
I got the audio book. And it was fabulous, especially when she’d burst into song!
DeleteI do like memoirs, Hallie, and I have just gobbled Raynor Winn's The Salt Path, recommended so highly--and deservedly--by Rhys. What a story, and what gorgeous writing.
ReplyDeleteChildhood bedroom: I shared with my grandmother until I was in elementary school. Then my parents added a wing to the house with a suite for her (and a laundry room!) and the room became my own. It was a big, corner, second story room with a built in dressing table and mirror, but the best thing was the windows, three of them, overlooking our back yard and the trees surrounding the creek that looped around the back of the property. I spent so many hours daydreaming, watching the wind move in the treetops--it was truly magical.
Of course there were the teenage years, with the twin beds that fitted into a corner table, all very contemporary, turquoise and green--my mother would have fainted at the thought of French Provincial, or pink! And rock posters, etc, etc., but always the windows and the view...
I also had the twin beds that fit into the corner table! I would pull out the bed and hide under the table to read at night or play my version of THE EGYPTIAN GAME (Zilpha Keatley Snyder) - I was obsessed with that book.
DeleteWhat a great excerpt, Hallie. I remember the bedroom I had when for a glorious four months we lived in a house in Enterprise, AL, where I didn't have to share with my little sister. Our two rooms had identical flat carpets, hers in tweedy gold and mine in tweedy red, and Mom sewed different-but-matching plaid curtains, hers with a gold stripe and mine with a red. Alas, our dad's orders changed and we were posted to Germany and back to sharing bunk beds in Officer's Quarters.
ReplyDeleteBut! 57 years later, those same plaid-with-red curtains hang in my son's old bedroom, now the guestroom. I still love them.
Awwww... that's so sweet! I imagine that having special things that moved WITH you would be super important for a military family.
DeleteI enjoy reading memoirs, but like a few of you I did not like Eat, Pray, Love. I felt it was too self-indulgent. I highly recommend Ruth Reichl’s Comfort Me With Apples, Michelle Obama’s Becoming, and Henry Winkler’s Becoming Henry. I also loved Russel Baker’s Growing Up and Bill Bryson’s The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid.
ReplyDeleteAs to my childhood bedroom, we moved five times before I was twelve, so each room was somewhat different. One constant was a good sized bookcase and my collection of Hummel angels. My mom gave me one every Christmas and they always had a prominent place in my room.
Great recommendations, Claire. Thanks.
DeleteTrevor Noah's memoir, BORN A CRIME, was superb--I recommend listening to him read it. Another book I read years ago and remember loving is by the illustrator of the Winnie the Pooh books, E. H. Shepard, and it is called DRAWN FROM MEMORY. It's about his Victorian childhood, and he illustrates it.
ReplyDeleteThe twin beds in my childhood bedroom, which I shared with my sister Natasha, had Wizard of Oz bedspreads. My mother read us the Oz books out loud, ALL of them, even after we could read for ourselves, and we loved them.
Kim, thanks for the reminder. I was about to post “I don’t read memoirs.” Read and loved Trevor Noah’s Born a Crime, even bought the YA version for the son of a friend, his mother. She loved the YA version! Elisabeth
DeleteI enjoy memoirs, but think I’m like Judy - I buy them and don’t follow through on the actual reading! (I just looked at my bookshelves and see Michelle Obama, Barbra Streisand, Anna Quindlen and Paula Munier’s memoirs - the latter two about dogs they’ve loved. Haven’t read any of them — insert hand over face emoji. I do have two recommendations: The Opposite of Fate by Amy Tan and West With the Night by Beryl Markham.
ReplyDeleteI don’t really remember my early childhood bedroom, but when I was in high school I painted mine bright lime green. I had a brass headboard and a black-and-white paisley bedspread. That was all very “cool,” but then my mom talked me into getting furniture (dressers, night stand) in some sort of fussy style that was mainly creamy white but the inlaid color was olive green! It did NOT go with lime green at all! — Pat S
West By the Night - my father always said he slept with Beryl Markham, which was not quite true, but sounded good. She crash landed in Canada in a swampy place called Bauleine. My great uncle was at the time the city physician and a very adamant follower of this new thing - flying. When she crashed, he knew immediately (even though there were few phones) and quickly came to see to her health. Meanwhile, he had called my grandfather, who at the time was one of the few people with a car. He drove to Bauleine and picked her up and brought her to his house in Louisbourg where Uncle Freeman examined her. She was patched up, and given Grandad's (clean) pajamas and sent to sleep in my father's bed. By the next morning the call had made it through to New York, where Hearst sent up an air craft to pick her up and take her to NY for a ticker tape parade. We have lots of pictures!
DeleteWhat a fabulous family history, Margo. She is one of my heroes for her courage and derring-do.
DeleteMargo, what a fun story! Thanks for sharing. — Pat
DeleteI loved West With the Night. What a great story!
DeleteYes, I do like memoirs a lot, and have read most of the titles on your list. Great choices. Some really blew me away when I first read them. And we saw Left on 10th as a live play just a few weeks ago. Wonderful! My own life:I had 3 bedrooms over the years, and earlier ones I don't remember, but the constant was my sister. She was only 14 months younger and we shared a room always until I went to college. I have no remembered stage of life that does not include her. As the oldest of 3, I thought I was the one who should have my own room (my brother got it) but looking back, I know we enjoyed sharing. We played forbidden games after lights out. (My parents knew! I learned that as an adult) We confided in each other when we were old enough to have secrets. We shared a room in the newest house the night before her wedding. In spite of distance, she is still one of my best friends.
ReplyDeletePS Meant to include that I just recommended a lovely and smart memoir, right here, a few days ago: Mary Rodgers -Shy.
DeletePat S, thanks for the reminder of West with the Night. Beryl Markham was a contemporary of Karen Blixen, and her Out of Africa took place during the same incredible time period. Flame Trees of Thika by Elspeth Huxley, although semi-autobiographical, is another perspective of a young European woman during that time of colonization.
ReplyDeleteIf I remember correctly, Beryl Markham was the “other woman” with whom Denys Finch Hatton had an affair while he was with Karen Blixen. (For those who only know the movie “Out of Africa”, Karen was played by Meryl Streep and Denys was played by Robert Redford. I don’t know if Beryl Markham actually appeared in the movie or was just referenced.) And I loved The Flame Trees of Thika, too! — Pat S
DeleteI loved EDUCATED and NECESSARY TROUBLE (by Drew Gilpin Faust, the first woman to be President of Harvard).
ReplyDeleteI always thought a memoir and an autobiography were the same thing, so when Hallie mentioned a memoir I had to look it up! "A memoir is a nonfiction narrative of an author's memories from a specific period of time. An autobiography recounts one's entire life from beginning to end."
ReplyDeleteA subtle difference and now I know. :)
I like memoirs... it's my inner voyeur. Just finished Ina Garten's and am blown away by her tenaciousness. Please let us know if your course will be available online! Thank you.
ReplyDeleteHallie, you mentioned that "we're all such little narcissists as children," and for the most part I agree with you. However, my journey through childhood bedrooms took a different route than others here. First, when I was two, my family moved from a tiny country town to the bigger town close by (the bigger town had around 8,000 population, hehe). There were six of us--my parents, my two sisters, my brother, and me. We moved from a big house with large rooms to a much smaller house with smaller rooms. Its saving grace was a finished basement. Of course, it didn't seem that small to me; everything seems bigger when you're a child. And, I had a wonderful childhood on the street where we lived, with lots of friends to spend the days with, mostly outside. However, my first bedroom when we moved was the bedroom hallway, because that's where my crib was set up. My brother had his own bedroom and my sisters had a room together. I don't know how long I was in the crib in the hallway, but I don't think it was very long. Interesting side note. Someone broke into our home while I was in that hallway crib, but my father apparently scared him off and the police came. How did I remember that when I was so young that the police were there and that he apparently came in through the back door or side door, which led to the kitchen. Another strange fact about that is, again I don't see how it's possible I remember this, but I have this vague memory of whoever broke in going by my crib. Maybe I was closer to three-years-old then. I used to have nightmares about that door being left unlocked and hurrying to lock it so no one would get in. But, I wasn't a fearful or scared or nervous kid.
ReplyDeleteI'm starting another paragraph because that one went on for so long. Anyway, from the hallway crib, I went to share a bedroom with my brother, not unheard of in those days, but not the usual arrangement. I slept in a small bed and he slept in the 3/4 antique bed. But, I don't ever remember being upset about it, not even sleeping in the small bed. I'm fairly certain that my older sisters wouldn't have me in their room, even though it was larger. They were going into their teens, and I'm sure the last thing they wanted was a baby sister in their room. So, it stayed like that until my older sister graduated high school and went away to college. I then moved in with my other sister, who was sixteen at the time. I would have been eight. Even with the big age difference, it seemed to work out fine. She would be going away to college soon anyway, and we liked each other. I'd give her a back massage for the payment of a 45 record. There really wasn't any decorating theme. The walls were painted and the furniture was nice. However, my sister did decide to make an improvement while my parents were out of town one time. She decided to shellac our bedroom floor. For those of you who may not be familiar with this term, she was putting a stain-like substance on the wood floors that would make them shine some. Well, of course, I got roped into helping her, we painted ourselves into a corner, and had to go out through one of the windows to exit the bedroom. We left both windows up so the shellac would dry, but she hadn't checked that it was going to rain later that day. It was quite the surprise for my parents, especially my mother, when they returned home from wherever they had gone. After second sister went to college, I had the bedroom to myself, and it seemed huge. It wasn't. But, I was to have another bedroom to myself when we moved around the circle subdivision in which we lived to a two-story house. I had started high school then. Yes, my parents moved to a bigger house when the family was reduced to three people. My brother had graduated from high school and gotten married that summer due to certain circumstances, but he and his wife both went away to college with their bundle. Ok, that brings us up to speed about my childhood bedrooms.
My comments were too long and wouldn't publish, so here's the last paragraph.
ReplyDeleteMemoirs and autobiographies are books I want to read more than I read. Like Judy, I buy more than I read. I'm determined to get to Mel Brooks' autobiography, All About Me that came out in 2022. It was one of the last books, maybe the last I bought Kevin, and he had it on his bookcase at his apartment. We both loved Mel Brooks' movies. I want to read the Amy Tan one someone mentioned above, too. I used to read more non-fiction, including memoirs, and I'd like to get back to that. I used to read a lot of Holocaust survivors' memoirs.
I think the first memoir I read, when I was about 12, was OUR HEARTS WERE YOUNG AND GAY by Cornelia Otis Skinner and Emily Kimbrough, which I found in my Grams’ basement. That lead me through all of their other memoirs and essays.
ReplyDeleteWhen I think of my childhood bedroom, I think of it in winter. With the plastic shrink wrap over the northwest-facing windows, then the thick insulated curtains, then an afghan.
When I was about 12 I found Our Hearts Were Young and Gay in MY grandma's house! What a lovely, funny , inspiring story it was. And still is. I stumbled across replica copy a few years ago and immediately ordered it. :Like finding an old friend again.
DeleteDiving into Delia Ephron's memoir - so glad you mentioned it!
ReplyDeleteI don't read many memoirs even though I am fascinated by family dynamics. My bedroom had cartoon ice cream truck wallpaper that I picked out to spite my parents because I hated the flowers they tried to stick me with. Spite is such an underrated emotion.
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