Drawing upon his collection of quirky antique postcards, Lawrence Sutin has penned A Postcard Memoir-- a series of brief but intense reminiscences of his "ordinary" life. In the process, he creates an unrepentant, wholly unique account about learning to live with a consciousness all his own. Ranging from remembered events to inner states to full-blown fantasies, Sutin is at turns playful and somber, rhapsodic and mundane, funny and full of pathos. Here you'll find tales about science teachers and other horrors of adolescence, life in a comedy troupe, stepfathering--each illustrated with the postcard that triggered Sutin's muse--and presented in a mix so enticingly wayward as to prove that at least some of it really happened.
I am one of the relatively exclusive group of target readers for this book, having already read many works of creative writing inspired by postcards, surely a niche genre if there ever was one. And there are things I like about it. Sutin has selected an evocative group of postcards to write to and Graywolf, as you might expect, has produced a beautiful book around the reproductions. Yet the stretch to turn his responses to the images into a memoir didn't work for me, didn't cohere into any sense of him as a person. There were flashes of exquisite writing I enjoyed, though.
When I first saw this postcard with its arched disappearances into the heart of the city I was at once within it. The boy leaning his kafiyah-clad head into the studded planks of the door, the ominous, onerous pack on his back-I feel it as biting into the shoulder blades-is either humbly awaiting entry or else too weary to take another step. I still cannot say. Beyond the boy a stranger, an out-of-focus blur, an intrusion in just that way all humanity becomes at such moments as when we wait at doors. What if I were placed on such a street, employed as a photographer for the postcard company? I have been hired for my eye, my daring, my prepossessed anonymity in which I carry a camera as lightly as a cigarette or an umbrella so as to shoot without notice. I offer no help to the boy and keep the stranger strange as I press the shutter.
A vivid vignette, riffing off of a postcard of a street in Tunis, but not illuminating of the life of the Minnesotan author.
Sutin's interesting memoir uses a special medium that can appear to be a bit gimmicky from afar, but it works really well for him. He uses a massive collection of postcards as inspiration for small pieces of flash prose about his life. Some obviously bend the truth, but as he explains it in one of the pieces, "The names and facts of my life as names and facts are insignificant. What we call history is something I slipped through. My life as I remember it to be is all I have to live on." It's a nice exploration into the place of memory in non-fiction as a genre. This book uses memory as fact, since in our lives, we reach a points where memories are the only things we can recall with, and they may be "skewed" by emotions. Giving the emotions instead of the actual facts, to me, works well and is, in a way, much more honest in this type of work. I much preferred the first half of this book (dealing with childhood, boyhood frustrations, reflections on adults from a young person's perspective, etc.) to the second half, which dealt heavily with his failed relationships as a young adult, which became tedious after a while. The good thing is that the pieces move by quickly if you choose not to dwell on them, so the tediousness of some passages slips by quickly. If you come across this book, pick it up. It's not life changing, but it's a quick read and a book worth reading. It'll give you plenty to think about during the day when you're not working on it.
I loved the concept — memoir pieces prompted by the author’s collection of vintage postcards. It’s a unique and clever form of alternative memoir and many/most of the postcards were appealing in their own right. That made for a double win of visual and text because Sutin writes well too.
I was really engaged for the first half of the book, far less so in the second half. I didn’t like him much in the second half. I found him too often crude, depressive and self-involved. I realize that memoir requires self-involvement, but the best memoirs elevate personal concerns to a universal level. This memoir was very much Larry Sutin’s life. There were no points of connection for me.
Mr. Sutin is a beautiful writer, but the arrangement of the postcards and writings is a bit unusual. Basically, this is a collection of flash memoir pieces that are connected chronologically in a vague way. When one reads a memoir, he wants to invest in the reading, not the process. Having to begin anew each page becomes a bit old hat quite quickly. As a reader, I am constantly looking or the thread or connection but with this many pieces, it becomes frustrating.
I am totally captivated by Sutin's use of postcards to trigger memories. Rather than progress in a linear fashion this memoir demolishes looking at one's life as a progression through ages. This pinging between years is like listening to stories that all connect at some point, but each small story feels self-contained and true. Emotionally true.
Graywolf Press made a very attractive book. Eventually you stop looking at the postcards, but the writing is casual and filled with whimsy. You'll think, "I'd like to get a beer and shoot-the-shit with him."
[don't you hate it when there's no picture available for the book]
Really interesting concept. I love old postcards, so it's a really novel idea. I didn't like though that truth and imagination were so blended that I couldn't tell which was which.
An ekphrastic style of writing. This book caused my class to debate whether or not this fit the genre of creative nonfiction writing. While every part of me resisted, and continues to resist ekphrastic as a medium for the genre, I admit that Sutin's writing was engaging.
Enchanting memoir told through the author’s collection of antique postcards. Partly chronologically organized but also seemingly random personal essays.
Lawrence Sutin's memoir reminds me of Lynda Barry's graphic novel "What It Is", in particular her creative writing exercise involving images. Barry teaches that you can create short narratives by taking random images and asking yourself various questions about who's in the picture, where it takes place, and so forth.
Maybe Sutin read Barry's graphic novel and decided to do just that with his vast collection of postcards. Through them he tells the story of his Jewish parents arrival in America, his childhood in the American Midwest, the women he loved, the women who didn't love him back, his university years and finally his writing and family life.
Most passages are as short as the postcards that inspire them, and not all are that interesting. But sometimes Sutin writes beautiful and touching passages, like the one on his grandmother's death in a concentration camp, or the one about his daughter.
In "A Postcard Memoir," Lawrence Sutin has created a masterful memoir with an almost lyrical use of language. Inspired by the images of various historical postcards from around the world that he has collected, Sutin has built a deeply introspective and mesmerizing memoir around these disparate images. Like Sutin, I am a bit of a postcard collector, so I cannot help but identify with his connection of these images with memory. Reflecting on memory (his musing on the "gargoyles of the mind" I found especially poignant), relationships (both familial, platonic, and romantic), the nature of writing and art, and the importance of place. Crossing the globe from Minneapolis across the continents, the cards also explore the landscapes of the mind. I will definitely have to read this unique memoir again.
There are some gems in here, but ultimately I found the author a little too self-reflective. This is more a coffee table book: beautifully put together, and the postcards would make great writing prompts.
3.5 stars My Hamline prof Larry takes a look at his oddball postcard collection and uses them as prompts for short memoir pieces. Not particularly great, and at times feels gimmicky but all in all successful and an interesting way of going about it.
This is one of the most stunningly beautiful books I've ever read. I love to mark up copy, I love to cross things out and add notes and doodles and questions, but I couldn't do it on this book. The postcards are gorgeous; the prose even more so.
Bias alert: Larry was my second-semester advisor at the Vermont College of Fine Arts. This book is, appropriately, praised as a rethinking of the memoir genre, leveraging anecdotes off of postcards. I very much value unconventional structure in memoir.
The author has written flash nonfiction to match postcards he has collected. Most of the short memoirs work. A few do not and are esoteric. The writing is noteworthy. I enjoyed reading this creative way of presenting memories and experiences to tell a larger story.
i had a lot of trouble deciding between a 2 and 3 on this book, but there's no half-star option, and i'm probably just being critical because i'm out of peanut butter.
Couldn't even finish. Mr. Sutin's style is just too masturbatory for my tastes. However, he is honest. And it is an interesting concept. But that only gets you so far.