Acclaimed personal writing from one of our most out-spoken essayists, on disability, on family, on being an impolite woman, and on the opporunities and "gifts" of a difficult life.
Nancy Mairs was an author who wrote about diverse topics, including spirituality, women's issues and her experiences living with multiple sclerosis. She received an AB from Wheaton College, and an MFA in writing and a Ph.D. from the University of Arizona.
She was diagnosed with MS when she was 28, and wrote several essays on her experiences as a self-described "cripple", including "On Being a Cripple," "Sex and the Gimpy Girl," and the memoir Waist High in the World.
I really loved Mairs' essay collections "Waist-High in the World: A Life Among the Nondisabled" and "A Troubled Guest: Life and Death Stories." When she takes on a single topic, such as her disability (she has progressive MS) or death and dying, her essays have such personality and verve. Her wit makes you laugh out loud. You find yourself holding your breath and leaning in closer as she shares some of her more personal, painful or private moments, and captivated by her storytelling, you are nonetheless impressed with the incisiveness of her social observations and criticisms.
This collection, however, was pretty disappointing. It's obvious that she simply pulled together a lot of miscellaneous writing into a book.
I highly recommend Mairs, but I'd stay away from this collection.
Nancy Mairs figured out that writing about her disability -- Multiple Sclerosis -- comes natural. By the end of this short book of well-written connected essays, I could understand, if not empathize, with her plight, the challenges that befall one with this degenerative disease.
Don't get the wrong idea about the title. You won't find a lurid description of the naughty-naughty adapted for MS. The word carnal deals with the tangible body in which she inhabits and the interface between this declining physical body and her world among the healthy.
I really enjoyed the book and hope to delve into some of her other publications.
a beautifully written exploration of embodiment in a crippled body - I learned so much. So happy I ran into this writer and will read more of her work.
I confess I'm putting off homework by reviewing this book -- in part because a review is easier, right now, than trying to assemble Nancy Mairs's detritus from the process of writing Remembering the Bone House into a coherent narrative. There must be one! My professor wouldn't have put this on the book list if it didn't have one; she's not that tricky! No, only time and the framing device (basically "I wrote this stuff while I was writing the other stuff") hold this together.
I wish it had held my interest. The problem is that she's writing... like a writer, I think, and not so much like the human being behind the academic. Her publisher was right to toss a bunch of material ("too academic"). I feel as if she's talking down to me in this "But, First..." and I want to shake her. I want to say, "Nancy, we're the same, though you have MS and I am but a lowly CFS/ME/WTFer. You write highblown personal essays and I'm most at home in my dystopia, but we're both human."
At least she knows her audience: herself.
Or else I am too modern. Too postmodern? Too tired of seeing technique everywhere, perhaps? Because what I did, and what may never make me famous but always leaves me satisfied, was throw away the technique when I was talking about myself. I shouldn't be wondering if this is her actual voice -- but of course for some people this is exactly how they speak and think; after years of it professionally something must sink into their hearts of hearts. Whatever the reason, I see technique and I think "precious" but I don't think "real" except when she drops the pretense that she's anything better than you or me.
Two stars for the moments when the pretense falls away.
Excellent read from a person who deals with, in a general sense human issues and, in a personal sense, a difficult disability. She reminds us that we all have problems and it is a choice to be happy despite them.
I loved the way she looks at the body and feminism - it's very personal but applicable to a broader cultural discourse. I would like to read her writings on being a Catholic.