I think that anytime you tell a story that catalogues dysfunction, it is important that your own voice maintain stability and/or neutrality. Otherwise, your audience risks finding you less credible. If this is a desired outcome, then great. But I didn’t see evidence that Barnes wanted her readers to “forgive” her for any of her behaviors. Rather, I saw the character’s deliberate effort to find stability in spite of the madness around her.
It is one thing if Cinelle Barnes were to have assumed some of her mother’s histrionic characteristics, but entirely something else to write a memoir without any traces of a cruel and unusual personality. Who knows (or cares) if Barnes exhibits similar impulsive behaviors as her mother from time to time? It sure as hell isn’t present in this memoir. In fact, there is a self-conscious absence of crappy actions. When she rebels on p. 222 after her mother and Norman make her write in the contest, I understand why Barnes crumples her essay in her pocket and lies about it. This small act was a tremendous rebellion. However, it isn’t an action that scratches the surface of evil in any way, shape or form, unlike Norman and her mother constantly bamboozling the community or fighting chickens in their living room.
Barnes as a mother in her own story is stable and nurturing. It is intentional that she tells us about her daughter learning to swim (p. 234) and how patient she is, saying “I receive her with open arms.” Though I’m 100% sure that parenting has moments where you want to break everything in sight but you can’t because your arms are too full of diapers, Barnes doesn’t go there. We don’t see the moments where she slinks down the wall covered in tears. Her breakdowns are private, if they exist, and that is because her life experiences have made her especially susceptible to that kind of microscopic scrutiny where people look at you and ask “what are you doing that is the product of your shitty upbringing?”
In all honesty, I was prepared for this memoir to have patterns of cruelty, the way that waves ripple out from their point of origin. Her father left, her mother was trapped in an abusive and toxic relationship, and her brother became addicted to drugs. The author had to be the anchor in her own life, and continues to (have to) be the anchor in her own story.
I think you are exactly right in how much scrutiny Barnes would be on the receiving end of if she showed too much of her own "darkness" or breakdowns, and how survivors of trauma, especially those who go on to write memoirs about it, have to be aware of this scrutiny. It seems to me, even with the likelihood of some dramatizations, falsifications, or censoring, that Barnes' story is a good case study in "nature versus nurture." In the beginning of the book, we see her exhibiting behaviors clearly learned from he mother, such as objectifying her baby brother or Elma, pushing Elma into the water, etc., but then as time goes on, these behaviors begin to lessen. Barnes' seeks to be inventive, protective, and caring, as we see in her treatment of her pets, her brother, even the children she pulls in to help Norman's political machine. This caring is even present when she does exhibit her mother's behaviors, as when she played at soothing her dead brother, reflecting not only the behaviors she needed to receive, but a willingness to give them in return, rather than demand them in the ways her narcissistic mother does, especially in the final chapter. Clearly the bad of her mother's socialization is at work, but so to is the good of the strength of Barnes' own nature.
ReplyDeleteHJ, I really like the point you make here. In my reading I wasn’t looking for these behavioral patterns, and I didn’t see how scrutiny from those around her could possibly shape the text. The tricky part about memoir is that it’s the responsibility of the author to tell the truth to the best of their ability, if there are lies in it then the story becomes fiction. I’m interested in discussing the line between omission of These behavioral patterns, and manipulating the way the story is told. To what extent can we forgive these omissions? I could easily understand why Barnes would want to leave the toxic traits out of the text, but is that an honest portrayal of her development as a mother? Thanks for this!
ReplyDeleteSuch an interesting post, in terms of craft, to have an expectation of a revelation of patterns of behavior, rather than, say being a reliable narrator. I wonder if this, in fact, an analysis of narrator or a distrust of the writer? Good discussion
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I'm not certain if I agree entirely or if I'm misunderstanding the post. I do find myself mistrusting narrators who appear too stable, who make themselves out as too blameless. I feel like I need to see not just the trauma but at least some of the results of that trauma to believe the narrator.
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