Book Report: “Lit” by Mary Karr

Enlightened by Memoir

Mary Karr is, allegedly, the master of memoir. I say “allegedly” because I’ve only read one of her books, and not even her most famous. That would be “The Liar’s Club,” which is—allegedly—about her seriously effed-up family.

But Karr’s life is apparently a goldmine for memoir-worthy material. “Lit” (the one I read) is the story of her struggle with all manner of alcohol. Her broken childhood failed to prepare Karr for the challenges of adulthood, marriage, motherhood, or life in general. So she found herself patting her infant son’s tiny back with one hand while throwing back a swig of Jack Daniel’s with the other.

The results were predictably disastrous—leading to a divorce, suicide attempt, and a both painful and sometimes hysterical hospitalization for her mental-health troubles. Along with the meds, Karr found salvation in her writing, and in a family of 12-step buddies who gave her the tough love she needed. They also helped her understand the meaning of “letting go” to her “Higher Power.” And boy, did she. Her slow conversion to Catholicism caught me by complete and total surprise. Every Christian pastor would benefit from reading her account of her early church-shopping experience. And every person should read Karr’s (allegedly) miraculous account of her bumbling attempts at prayer. Assuming it’s true, there really is hope for anybody in the power of God.

I’ve read a handful of memoirs and am still not sure what to make of them. They can seem a little too honest, sometimes—even disrespectful. Does the world need to know about Mary Karr’s mother and father’s sins in such vivid detail, let alone her ex-husband’s? I felt voyeuristic watching the story unfold. (This did not keep me from reading on, of course.)

But if this is how memoirs must be written, Karr has (allegedly) mastered the art. “Lit” is well-written, funny, fast-moving, and impactful in surprising ways. While reading, I could only be grateful for growing up in a loving family with a father who really cared and a genuine saint for a mom. I also felt a renewed commitment to understand my own story with the insight Karr models in telling her own. Our stories are repositories of truth and insight so few of us dare to open. Even if I wouldn’t want to air my ugly dirties to the world, I’m glad someone has the courage to show the rest of us how we might. We might not have Karr’s way with words, but we can have her honesty. Her guts.

Ironically, though, “Lit” isn’t about Mary Karr’s alcoholism, broken family, or about Mary Karr at all. It’s about something deeper: the love we must fall into in order to survive and thrive in this effed-up world. The compassion we feel but for a moment amongst ourselves is a thin but powerful conduit to the grace of a Higher Power who yearns to save us from ourselves, if we would only yield. Karr’s final line sums it up well, and will stick with me for a long time: “Every now and then, we enter the presence of the numinous, and deduce for an instant how we’re formed—in what detail the force that infuses every petal might specifically run through us, wishing only to lure us into our full potential. Usually, the closest we get is when we love or when some beloved beams back, which can galvanize you like steel and make resilient what had heretofore only been soft flesh.”

-MRH (5/3/2019)