I thought the label “memoir in essays” was a little misleading, some of the pieces collected here were presumably custom-made, and all are semi-autobiographical but a fair number, like the phenomenally-successful “The Crane Wife”, read as if they’re examples taken from C J Hauser’s greatest hits. And, although there’s a sense of the author’s background, family, childhood etc, it’s really quite a fragmented self-portrait. Instead, what stood out were recurrent themes revolving around the difficulties of negotiating a sense of self and attempting a successful, all-consuming relationship with another person. This broadens out into musings on the nature of romance and the sorts of cultural expectations about love and marriage Hauser found herself caught up in.
Hauser was keen to avoid referring to “women” in the marketing for her book, and it’s true enough that the kind of writing featured here can cut across gender divides – Alexander Chee’s articles for example. But even though Hauser vaguely refers to herself as queer/bi/pan my overwhelming impression was of being presented with the thoughts and experiences of a hetero woman grappling with her feelings about men, there’s just so much here about men, and men from a woman’s perspective. I think this is part of the reason I found these difficult to connect with at times. And identification is crucial for this kind of writing, an offshoot of the “intelligent” lifestyle feature commonly found in publications like Vogue, The New York Times or The Guardian, which largely depends on setting up moments of recognition for readers. And, like those too, these are intelligent but not too weighty, filled with cultural reference points from books and films: Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, the dynamic between Scully and Mulder in The X-Files and what The Philadelphia Story asserts about women’s choices when it comes to selecting a man. They’re recognisably part of a tradition that harks back to Nora Ephron and Meghan Daum to Eula Biss and beyond. Although they’re not as consistently witty as Ephron’s essays or as relentlessly incisive as the best of Biss.
It’s not that I didn’t enjoy a number of the entries, I just rarely found myself fully engaged with them. Apart from the title piece which skilfully weaves together Japanese legend, whooping cranes and ducking out of her wedding, I appreciated Hauser’s reflections on Shirley Jackson; her slightly absurdist take on John Belushi and family graveyards; her thoughts on what du Maurier’s Rebecca might teach us about encounters with the ghosts of someone’s former loves; and her frank depiction of the literal horrors of online dating. There are some excellent passages, some pleasing dry humour, and some memorable lines, although the essay structure can start to seem a little formulaic after a while - unlike a conventional memoir that’s intended to be read as a continuous narrative, this would probably work best approached as a collection to dip in and out of.
Thanks to Netgalley UK and publisher Penguin for an ARC