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London Street: A Memoir
Within a Dutch enclave already removed from the larger world, Janie's family is further isolated and odd. Janie struggles within the tight-knit community to understand the secrets and events involving her family. She knows the line her father draws between the holy and the sinful. His boundaries and rigid belief system nearly destroy the very family they were meant to protect. Persistent rumors and shunning by church members add to Janie's heartache and confusion. Her endurance to preserve a loving relationship with her family is an intimate story of triumph over community bigotry and religious zeal gone too far.
256 pages, Paperback
Published May 25, 2020
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January 12, 2021Let me be honest. I have two significant problems talking about this book. The first is that it's a memoir. Memoirs aren't inherently problematic, but they do make us make judgments about people's lives, judgments that aren't always pleasant to make. "Here's what happened," they report, and then they expect us simply to believe it--or, more to the point, expect us not to guess that there isn't more to the events than we're being told. I kept wishing Jane Griffioen's London Street was a novel, not a memoir. If it were a novel, it would be easier to talk about because it's truth would have been fictional and not, as in the case, biography.
And then there's this. Jane Griffioen's London Street examines a life that is so close to mine, so exacting with respect to what it felt like to grow up within the powerful reach of a peculiar American religious community--mine too--at a particular time in that community's history, that at times throughout the book, I could not help feeling she was talking about me.
Frederick Manfred used to say that ethnic writers--and he considered himself one--had to be careful not to use to many "ins," too much ethnic minutiae, because readers who don't share heritage or background can quickly feel walled out. In the world of the old-line Dutch Reformed, a Sunday peppermint is as much as a sacrament as communion bread.
Jane Griffioen is so precise, so exacting in the verities of a post-World War II Christian Reformed world that the exposition almost hurt. At one point in the memoir, she uses the lyrics from an old psalm no CRC ever sings anymore. I started reading those words without remembering, and suddenly the music returned, drawn eerily from memory's deep recesses. I loved all of that, and mostly I loved the fact that she played with the nuances of a theological history that tried so hard to keep us--Jane Griffioen and me--well away from "worldliness."
"Worldliness." I don't know that I've ever spoken to my children about the dangers of "worldliness." That word would likely have no psychic resonance with either of them. But darkness still arises in me when I see that word, because the evil that constitutes its horror is still resonant, even if its has lost its strength. "Worldliness" creates abundant darkness in the story Jane Griffioen tells of her life, as well it should, saith this old Calvinist.
And now, since I'm telling you about Jane Griffioen's life, I am myself falling into sin because I can't help the feeling that I'm gossiping. The life she opens up on the pages of her memoir is so vivid to those of us who grew up as she did that simply telling you about it makes me feel I'm talking behind the back of a member of my own small community. And I am.
To me, that exactness is the memoir's great strength, and I loved reading it. London Street, the street in Grand Rapids, Michigan, on which Ms. Griffioen was raised, was in every way a small town, even though she grew up in a city. If you're Dutch Reformed and you don't like the title--too British, maybe--fine; just rename it Oostburg or Lynden or Zeeland or Whitinsville, all of which are cut from the same ethno-religious fabric.
So one of the problems I have talking about the book is as perfectly obvious as it is an immense attribute: by talking about it, I can't help but feel as if I'm talking behind her back. She prompts guilt by evoking scenes so rich within my own memory that I know it all, chapter-and-verse.
At the bottom of the story, two deep and difficult concerns eventually emerge. First, mental illness. Much of the memoir arises from a story Griffioen didn't grow up with, even though she did, a story of her mother's horror and humiliation, a story which happened long before Griffioen herself was born.
But the shame her mother suffered, the humiliation at the hands of a family and a community that simply repressed the story, locked it up behind locked doors, acted as if it hadn't happened, is the real villainy. What happened to her mother put her mother, her sister, and herself into Pine Rest (and that too is an "in"--into a mental hospital) at different times in their individual lives.
But Griffioen doesn't stop there. Why are there stories that really can't be spoken of in this peculiar tightly-knit community? She wants to say--and she does--that we all would rather not mention them, given that we (of the old-line Dutch Reformed cultural and theological ethos) don't want to blame a sovereign God we extol as a great lover and Creator of Heaven and Earth.
Some say Calvinism rests on two significant pillars--the sovereignty of God and the depravity of man, and that dynamic duo is at the heart of things in the life and the story of Jane Griffioen.
Which is not to say, she rejects the doctrine. Her father, who, late in life, wanders back into the Protestant Reformed Church of his youth (that's an "in" too), is the source of that overpowering theology, the theology at times you think she would really like to blame for the tonnage of emotional problems of her own story.
But she can't. There's still something there in him she won't forsake--and, oddly enough, it's love. Speaking of her father, she says, "He might be a prisoner to his theology, but he hadn't locked his heart away." The source of terrifying dogma that threatens to lock up the family in its own theological icebox is her father, a man who has literally given his life--held down two jobs for as long as she can remember--for the sake of a family he has always loved hugely, and a wife who had a child before he married her.
It would be nice if we could nail down the true villainy in all of this, but Jane Griffioen can't do it and neither can we, not with the kind of exactness some readers might delight in discovering. Puzzle pieces are missing from this memoir, but then often enough they're missing from our own puzzles too.
That's life. Even for the Dutch Reformed.
And then there's this. Jane Griffioen's London Street examines a life that is so close to mine, so exacting with respect to what it felt like to grow up within the powerful reach of a peculiar American religious community--mine too--at a particular time in that community's history, that at times throughout the book, I could not help feeling she was talking about me.
Frederick Manfred used to say that ethnic writers--and he considered himself one--had to be careful not to use to many "ins," too much ethnic minutiae, because readers who don't share heritage or background can quickly feel walled out. In the world of the old-line Dutch Reformed, a Sunday peppermint is as much as a sacrament as communion bread.
Jane Griffioen is so precise, so exacting in the verities of a post-World War II Christian Reformed world that the exposition almost hurt. At one point in the memoir, she uses the lyrics from an old psalm no CRC ever sings anymore. I started reading those words without remembering, and suddenly the music returned, drawn eerily from memory's deep recesses. I loved all of that, and mostly I loved the fact that she played with the nuances of a theological history that tried so hard to keep us--Jane Griffioen and me--well away from "worldliness."
"Worldliness." I don't know that I've ever spoken to my children about the dangers of "worldliness." That word would likely have no psychic resonance with either of them. But darkness still arises in me when I see that word, because the evil that constitutes its horror is still resonant, even if its has lost its strength. "Worldliness" creates abundant darkness in the story Jane Griffioen tells of her life, as well it should, saith this old Calvinist.
And now, since I'm telling you about Jane Griffioen's life, I am myself falling into sin because I can't help the feeling that I'm gossiping. The life she opens up on the pages of her memoir is so vivid to those of us who grew up as she did that simply telling you about it makes me feel I'm talking behind the back of a member of my own small community. And I am.
To me, that exactness is the memoir's great strength, and I loved reading it. London Street, the street in Grand Rapids, Michigan, on which Ms. Griffioen was raised, was in every way a small town, even though she grew up in a city. If you're Dutch Reformed and you don't like the title--too British, maybe--fine; just rename it Oostburg or Lynden or Zeeland or Whitinsville, all of which are cut from the same ethno-religious fabric.
So one of the problems I have talking about the book is as perfectly obvious as it is an immense attribute: by talking about it, I can't help but feel as if I'm talking behind her back. She prompts guilt by evoking scenes so rich within my own memory that I know it all, chapter-and-verse.
At the bottom of the story, two deep and difficult concerns eventually emerge. First, mental illness. Much of the memoir arises from a story Griffioen didn't grow up with, even though she did, a story of her mother's horror and humiliation, a story which happened long before Griffioen herself was born.
But the shame her mother suffered, the humiliation at the hands of a family and a community that simply repressed the story, locked it up behind locked doors, acted as if it hadn't happened, is the real villainy. What happened to her mother put her mother, her sister, and herself into Pine Rest (and that too is an "in"--into a mental hospital) at different times in their individual lives.
But Griffioen doesn't stop there. Why are there stories that really can't be spoken of in this peculiar tightly-knit community? She wants to say--and she does--that we all would rather not mention them, given that we (of the old-line Dutch Reformed cultural and theological ethos) don't want to blame a sovereign God we extol as a great lover and Creator of Heaven and Earth.
Some say Calvinism rests on two significant pillars--the sovereignty of God and the depravity of man, and that dynamic duo is at the heart of things in the life and the story of Jane Griffioen.
Which is not to say, she rejects the doctrine. Her father, who, late in life, wanders back into the Protestant Reformed Church of his youth (that's an "in" too), is the source of that overpowering theology, the theology at times you think she would really like to blame for the tonnage of emotional problems of her own story.
But she can't. There's still something there in him she won't forsake--and, oddly enough, it's love. Speaking of her father, she says, "He might be a prisoner to his theology, but he hadn't locked his heart away." The source of terrifying dogma that threatens to lock up the family in its own theological icebox is her father, a man who has literally given his life--held down two jobs for as long as she can remember--for the sake of a family he has always loved hugely, and a wife who had a child before he married her.
It would be nice if we could nail down the true villainy in all of this, but Jane Griffioen can't do it and neither can we, not with the kind of exactness some readers might delight in discovering. Puzzle pieces are missing from this memoir, but then often enough they're missing from our own puzzles too.
That's life. Even for the Dutch Reformed.
August 1, 2021
This is a very particular book. If you weren't raised Dutch Reformed (this is shorthand for CRC from those who aren't), this might not be your book. But if you were, you need to read this book. My dad was born in 1950, my mom in 1951. This book helped me understand their lives, helped me to ask the right questions, to see them in ways that I would otherwise be blind to. It's heartbreaking. It's so honest. I'm so glad I read it.
February 28, 2023
Wow! This book hit right at the heart of how I grew up. Although I'm probably a generation younger than the author, I see remnants of how she grew up in my own. I, too, grew up in the Grand Rapids area in this very Dutch Reformed religious community. The focus on Catechism education, an almost legalistic view of Sunday observance, the peppermints in church, coffee at grandma's house after church on Sundays all remind me of my childhood and placed me right back in my memories of those times.
What I learned as I got older and what was brought out in this book was the silence culture that was pervasive and still has its tendency to this day. The whispers behind backs, the shunning that can tear a person apart, the shame that is ascribed to people was a big part of the stolid Dutch culture. Doctrines were not to be questioned, rules were to be followed even though it wasn't always clear why. It is slowly changing but its roots ran deep and they can still rear their ugly heads. The author found some comfort in going back to some of the traditions that she found comforting although with a twist from the Lutheran church. Me, I found comfort in immersing myself in the grace of Christ - that I don't have to be perfect in following the "rules", things don't have to always remain hidden in shame, communicating our struggles isn't bad - the blood of Christ covers it all.
The author has a fabulous way of writing, although I wonder if some "outside" the culture would understand all of the nuances. Her way of ending a chapter with a poignant, sometimes facetious remark had a way of hitting at the heart of a matter making me re-evaluate everything I had been taught as a child. Just because it had always been done that way doesn't mean it always should be done that way. She touched my heart and helped me see things in a new way.
What I learned as I got older and what was brought out in this book was the silence culture that was pervasive and still has its tendency to this day. The whispers behind backs, the shunning that can tear a person apart, the shame that is ascribed to people was a big part of the stolid Dutch culture. Doctrines were not to be questioned, rules were to be followed even though it wasn't always clear why. It is slowly changing but its roots ran deep and they can still rear their ugly heads. The author found some comfort in going back to some of the traditions that she found comforting although with a twist from the Lutheran church. Me, I found comfort in immersing myself in the grace of Christ - that I don't have to be perfect in following the "rules", things don't have to always remain hidden in shame, communicating our struggles isn't bad - the blood of Christ covers it all.
The author has a fabulous way of writing, although I wonder if some "outside" the culture would understand all of the nuances. Her way of ending a chapter with a poignant, sometimes facetious remark had a way of hitting at the heart of a matter making me re-evaluate everything I had been taught as a child. Just because it had always been done that way doesn't mean it always should be done that way. She touched my heart and helped me see things in a new way.
January 15, 2025
Neighborhood book club #4
The local ladies really loved this one. They said it was incredibly relatable, like they were reading about their own childhood.
As someone who did not grow up in this community, it was interesting enough to have a view into the history but I wasn't nearly as captivated or moved as my neighbors.
The local ladies really loved this one. They said it was incredibly relatable, like they were reading about their own childhood.
As someone who did not grow up in this community, it was interesting enough to have a view into the history but I wasn't nearly as captivated or moved as my neighbors.
May 11, 2023
This book was interesting to me because I grew up in the Christian Reformed church, as this author did also. Fortunately for me, my parents were not as strict as hers, but it did bring back memories.
April 19, 2023
I struggle with my feelings about this book. It is a memoir about growing up in community that is basically the same as my background, and I recognize so many of the beliefs and practices of the author's family and church members and preachers and teachers and neighbors.
Some of these things generated warm memories of my own family and church practices. But the author's parents and their church were closer to their Dutch roots than my family was, and their religious beliefs and practices were more rigid and less loving than those of my family and my church. I remember hearing more statements about God's grace than Janey did.
I appreciate Jane's willingness to open her life to an audience. She and her parents experienced serious traumas without having a way to process them. They kept secrets that were too hard to bear and their much loved family suffered because of them. Mental health care was not as effective or as available as it has become in recent years, but there is still misunderstanding and shame in having emotional ills and in getting treatment.
Some of these things generated warm memories of my own family and church practices. But the author's parents and their church were closer to their Dutch roots than my family was, and their religious beliefs and practices were more rigid and less loving than those of my family and my church. I remember hearing more statements about God's grace than Janey did.
I appreciate Jane's willingness to open her life to an audience. She and her parents experienced serious traumas without having a way to process them. They kept secrets that were too hard to bear and their much loved family suffered because of them. Mental health care was not as effective or as available as it has become in recent years, but there is still misunderstanding and shame in having emotional ills and in getting treatment.
November 3, 2020
Such an interesting book about Dutch culture in Grand Rapids , Michigan under the cover of family, religion and ethics all decided by each aspect. Since I moved from New Mexico and was not familiar with the Reformed and Christian Reformed Churches and their culture, beliefs, dogma and theology and still I am not sure about theology , I found this book a window used to see and understand the precepts and concepts. She covers her family fairly well but leaves gaps that I wonder what happened to this person or another but her focus is more in the religious aspects of daily life. Well written and a book that I stayed up late to complete reading. A must read for those outsiders like myself that wonder why the hair splitting and angst.
March 10, 2022
Jane Griffioen writes an honest memoir, as riveting as Educated, one of my favorite books. Unlike the father in EDUCATED , Jane’s father “might be a prisoner of his theology but he had not locked his heart away.” Her writing is so vivid that I could smell the porkchops and mashed potatoes on Thursday and the Sunday pot roast after church. …” gezelig”. Warm and cozy times in her family life. This is a family damaged by gossip and keeping secrets, but Jane survives and is in fact a stronger author, poet, and musician because of it.
May 20, 2023
This story takes place in a closely knit Dutch Reformed community during the 1950's and 1960's. If you are a product of such a place, you will enjoy all the details. If not, you might wonder at all the "shoulds" and "shouldn'ts." Inherit in any community like this (think Educated ) is gossip, guilt and doctrine. The main themes are mental health and how does one ensure his/her salvation. I can see those familiar the the Dutch Reformed (CRC) church engaging in a lively dialogue about this book.
August 15, 2020
This is an exceptional memoir that takes the reader through several decades in the life of Janey. It's written in a thoughtful, precisely detailed manner that brings the sixties alive. The wide-ranging impact is the influence of religion on Janey's life. She has a seeking nature, however, and does not allow the oppression to hold her back. The reader comes to know the family members and all their complicated reactions to growing up shrouded in strictness and secrets.
July 27, 2021
My mother-in-law loaned me this book last week. I couldn't put it down. Having lived in West Michigan for 20 years, coming in as an outsider, I didn't completely understand the community I live in. Now having read this book, so much of my community and the Christian Reformed Church makes sense. It is an honest memoir. Jane is brave in sharing her life so openly. I am a better person for having read it!
August 17, 2020
Loved this memoir, couldn’t put it down. Griffioen slowly immerses the reader into her childhood, bringing family secrets out the way she discovered them herself—painfully and by accident. While her father took her spiritual training to the extreme sometimes, Jane perseveres and develops her own perspective on it all.
February 27, 2021
My mom recommended this book and I really enjoyed it! Interesting from many perspectives- author grew up locally (GR, MI) in the time my parents did, Dutch, Christian Reformed, dealing with family history around mental illness and a lot of shame around it in the church / community. Eye opening and just all in a great memoir!
December 18, 2021
I grew up as an immigrant in the same area, same schools, same denomination and attended Grandville Ave. CRC for night service in my teens all a few years ahead of Jane. This book was my story also. Bedankt for the sometimes painful trip down memory lane.
January 27, 2023
Enjoyable for anyone, but if your childhood included membership in some “unto themselves” group you may especially like. The writer not only allows the reader a glimpse of her life story, but allows the reader to feel it. She does all this in authentically and with compassion.
December 17, 2023
I loved reading this; so many things triggered
memories of my growing up in a close by neighborhood with similar history.
memories of my growing up in a close by neighborhood with similar history.
September 11, 2024
Finely crafted, totally engrossing, marvellous
November 18, 2025
Wow! this brought back memories! Ah-men!
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