Bibs, Napkins, Table Runners and Errant Surges of Genius.
Again, what is so enrapturing about reading *truly engaging* memoirs, is its inherent unique quality. As I was reading Bourdain’s and Harris’s books, picking up tidbits of revelations here and there, got me to circling back on this memoir reading craze I’ve adopted. For the record, Bourdain’s and Harris’s books did share general similarities (typical in most engaging books); decent pacing. Honest, perhaps to a fault. And neither described a crunchy backdrop… as in difficult childhood.
But I kept going back to that singular element that makes memoirs an incredibly valuable genre. Painting people…and things… with broad brushes and stuffing them in boxes is easy to do on the fly, but NOT so simple when hearing directly from the source…as in reading a memoir.
My earliest introduction to this perspective was when I left home, unread and very ignorant about most things. I moved overseas and lived there for four years, getting an education I could not have gotten in a traditional classroom environment. And then too, perhaps because I’m people curious by nature, I really leaned into these new human-centered experiences. When I returned home (to the states), my eyes were a lot wider and my mouth not moving... as much.
Jumping ahead, this education caught up to where I was when I started researching the book publishing industry. Couldn’t turn a page without being invited to fully understand the height of slush piles. I might’ve snickered at the first mention, but after a while, book after book, page for page, source upon source, there seemed to be no escaping monstrous mountains of desperation. Apparently a lot of hopeful writers were flooding P.O. boxes with their sweat and tears not knowing business-minded people usually were more interested in their wallets, not sob stories. This shortsightedness however, didn’t make me sad for the hopefuls, but concerned for those blithely dancing around the oceanic swells.
Short, sweet and shaving off what could wend up an excruciating long post, but not long after reading about the swells an inexplicable event happened. Impossible to dream up, though I wished I could take credit here, but I'll be if a mogul didn't spot one of the discarded piles! A blink later and fleets of semis were delivering all kinds of books everywhere a person was. Now, to be clear, given moguls don’t generally invest in sob stories either, but this discovery humbles me to this day. It is what keeps me from assuming... so much.
Back up to the top, and bouncing off the mogul bit, since surely I wasn’t done with all the thinking. I got to thinking of spaces where diversity is dearly valuable. Books (foremost…and of course). Movies (for sure). Music (oh Hell yeah!). ART… & Style (psst...those who’ve ever prepped for swanky affairs and hoped nobody showed up wearing (head to toe) what they were wearing, knows how crucial diverse style is)!
But I as well like diverse places too. Like why even pack a bag and jet off to visit spots just like the place you left? …And how about this one? Cooking!?! (I might not be a big eater, but so as not to put words in your mouth, I do love reading on a global scale all the tricks of the trade to up my cooking skills)!
Happy Thanksgiving.
#StorytellingMatters #ILoveMemoirs #FirstHandScoops #HappyThanksgiving #JustBlogged
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