Memoirs are interesting stories. They’re often like incomplete autobiographies. Sometimes they deal with a specific moment in time. Other times they focus on a personal journey. The two that we read here were good examples of each of these types.
I can see a bit of myself in the first story. Though I am not as neurotic as she is, it’s probably closer than I’m comfortable admitting. There’s definitely some of me in the second story as well. Last year I had a similar situation with a friend of mine. The details aren’t important. Suffice it to say that I was hurt and handled the situation poorly, but in the only way I could allow myself to at the time. I regretted it almost instantly but neither of us made any effort to change things. Eventually, we reconnected. Even though things can’t be as they were before, if I had to leave it the way it is now I’d be ok with that.
I would say that Dunham did over tell her story a bit. It was more of a journey though, so she should be forgiven that. Dunham did a lot more showing in her piece, the other author seemed to me to do more telling. Dunham’s story contained a great deal of description, from what her therapists were wearing to what she was doing to comfort a sick friend, the picture was easily painted. The other post relied more on visualization, more than likely because it was shorter and also because it dealt with more emotions than experiences. Both authors fully fleshed out their tails, no further information was needed.
I think both authors told the truth in their stories. Dunham was so open that I can’t imagine her having hidden anything useful from the reader. Likewise, the other author so illuminated their feelings and their story that I can’t imagine it not being fully true.
Wednesday, February 12, 2020
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