Hello Dear Friends:

Autumn is upon us. This is a time for slowing down, letting go and going inward.

I’m currently living on Beals Island in Maine. Beals is a true Downeast fishermen village. Weathered men in coveralls work the docks all day, catching lobster. The house Connor and I rented is surrounded by frigid Atlantic waters. It takes no less than 45 minutes to reach town on the mainland. The drive is along a deserted road, surrounded by acres of crimson blueberry barrens and soft gold maples.

Being so far away from friends, family, and convenience has forced me to be patient. I’ve been able to give myself the gift of time this month: time to think, time to write, time to reflect. I’ve had time to sift through sweet nostalgia.

Late October elicits mental polaroids of my childhood: Halloween costumes. Mom making chili and dad carving pumpkins. Memories like these are composites of who we are. They are the stories we keep stocked in the bookcases of our minds.

What strikes me most about the memories we carry is that they’re incredibly subjective. We remember things not as they necessarily were, but as we believe, hope, or fear them to have been.

It takes courage to delve into those dusty shelves of your past and ask yourself about what’s actually true. A story you’ve told yourself about what happened, upon closer examination, may be fictional. Or it may be so true, it hurts to revisit it. We often distance ourselves from our memories. How often do we pull them up to the front of our minds for re-examination? Usually we choose to just retell the same safe stories about who were and what we did so our lives feel consistent and easy to comprehend.

In an era of sensationalized headlines, fake news and major distrust in untruthful leaders, trying to remember what happened and then telling our stories candidly might be the only way to set ourselves free for the future.

As Mary Karr, the master of the memoir, wrote in her book, The Art of Memoir:

“Whether you’re a memoirist or not, there’s a psychic cost for lopping yourself off from the past: it may continue to tug on you without your being aware of it. And lying about it can—for all but the most hardened sociopath—carve a lonely gap between your disguise and who you really are.”

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Book Recommendations

This season, I share my memoir recommendations with you. Memoirists are the most courageous writers. They sift through difficult memories in a genuine effort to make sense of their lives and tell the truth. They help us remember that we’re all doing the best we can with what we know. These aren’t books about being broken and getting fixed. These are books about real, flawed people who experience pain, loss, change, and growth…

How to Murder Your Life by Cat Marnell – This book is the antithesis to self-help literature. It’s the antihero that somehow helps you be a better person by telling you exactly what NOT to do with your life. Marnell has the guts to reveal her most ugly, vulnerable self. She walks you through her drug use, her shallow days writing beauty columns, her careless brushes with death, her stints in rehab. She’s messy. And she’s so brutally honest that I almost envy her – not because I want her murdered life, but because in her writing, she’s free. She presents her guilt and shame and terrible mistakes to us without holding back. Read this if you want to vicariously experience total recklessness but then walk away unscathed.

Just Kids by Patti Smith – Walk the streets of New York City in 1972 alongside photographer Robert Mapplethorpe. Drink chartreuse in Andy Warhol’s paint covered Chelsea Hotel room. Listen to Bob Dylan sing drafts of his now famous songs. Through her lyrical stream of consciousness, Smith lures you into her dreamlike past.

What makes Smith such a good writer is her ability to be the observer. She writes about all of the crazy characters around her with great detail and zero judgment. And what makes Smith an excellent observer is she was actually sober during one of the most decadent times in New York City’s history. While her friends were getting high and coming down, Smith was taking it all in and choosing to participate only in spirit. Read this if you want to escape into another era captured with poetic precision.

Born A Crime by Trevor Noah – Trevor Noah’s TV persona is charismatic. But like so many people, I stopped watching The Daily Show when Jon Stewart signed off. I loved getting to know Noah here. His life story is both comical and tragic. He was born during apartheid South Africa to a stubborn and fiery single mother:

“My mother checked into Hillbrow Hospital for a scheduled C-section delivery. Estranged from her family, pregnant by a man she could not be seen with in public, she was alone. The doctors took her up to the delivery room, cut open her belly, and reached in and pulled out a half-white, half-black child who violated any number of laws, statutes, and regulations—I was born a crime.”

He writes about his isolated childhood, adolescent years hustling in Soweto, and his ambitious move from South Africa to Hollywood. He shares his memories through belly-laughing humor and deep forgiveness. Humor is what so often heals us more than anything else can. Read this to remember that.

Educated by Tara Westover – What does it mean to be educated? We often think of school and degrees. Westover reframes what it means by exploring her childhood in a devout Mormon family with a conspiracy theorist father who believes in an upcoming doomsday. Westover was homeschooled as a kid, barely being taught basic curriculum. So, she decided to teach herself. She stole textbooks, snuck away to school, and made a secret life outside of her tumultuous family. Westover shares all of the trauma she experienced and how she escaped. This is a book about resilience and the schooling we receive from our families and culture. It’s also absolutely gripping. From Westover’s many near-death experiences to her eventual reconciliation with her family, I could not put this down.

Okay, one last Halloween Bonus Read: A Cosmology of Monsters by Shaun Hamill – It’s not a memoir. But it’s a story about memories and family and monsters. It’s the perfect book for creepy autumn-time. Think Adams Family meets Stephen King.

Thanks for reading my second newsletter, friends! Please feel free to pass this on to anyone you think may be interested in my bibliotherapy book recs.

If you are interested in working with me, or you know someone who might be, I’d love to hear from you. I’m happily accepting new coaching and consulting clients for the remainder of 2019.

Savor These Fall Days,

Lela