"I am going to be honest, vows the writer, yes expose everything, lift the rock on my Psyche and if there are creep crawlies then so be it"
There is a certain kind of memoir or autobiographical novel that depends almost completely for its power upon a signal lack of hubris in the narrator.
In place of the writer's usual inclination to feature himself or herself as charming or gifted, or even likable, is the urge to psychically disrobe.
So why do writers/people do this? Is it a fundamental self-hatred or, more mildly acute self-discomfort. Is rigorous honesty a self serving writerly device? ie there is a benefit to the person who
claims I was dishonest in the past, the benefit being as I am now being honest, well...gosh, I feel much better about myself.
So do such people after their rigorous honesty then emerge into the clarity of self-knowledge, or do they come to realise, after their bout of honesty, that they are left with a darker reckoning, of their with their own essential solitariness or unhappiness or "weirdness."
psychological stakes such a memoir or novel sets up are high indeed, with the writer risking the ignominy of self-exposure in exchange for, if not quite absolution, then the relief that comes with being recognized for who one really is. In their own dire way, these accounts are nothing less than attempts to retrieve the unconditional love we are supposed to receive as very young children -- with the reader recast in the role of the parent who will accept you in all your bratty, destructive and downright horrid guises.
There is a certain kind of memoir or autobiographical novel that depends almost completely for its power upon a signal lack of hubris in the narrator.
In place of the writer's usual inclination to feature himself or herself as charming or gifted, or even likable, is the urge to psychically disrobe.
So why do writers/people do this? Is it a fundamental self-hatred or, more mildly acute self-discomfort. Is rigorous honesty a self serving writerly device? ie there is a benefit to the person who
claims I was dishonest in the past, the benefit being as I am now being honest, well...gosh, I feel much better about myself.
So do such people after their rigorous honesty then emerge into the clarity of self-knowledge, or do they come to realise, after their bout of honesty, that they are left with a darker reckoning, of their with their own essential solitariness or unhappiness or "weirdness."
psychological stakes such a memoir or novel sets up are high indeed, with the writer risking the ignominy of self-exposure in exchange for, if not quite absolution, then the relief that comes with being recognized for who one really is. In their own dire way, these accounts are nothing less than attempts to retrieve the unconditional love we are supposed to receive as very young children -- with the reader recast in the role of the parent who will accept you in all your bratty, destructive and downright horrid guises.
No comments:
Post a Comment