Rebecca Solnit
Rebecca Solnit opens her memoir The Faraway Nearby with a chapter on the one hundred pounds of apricots she receives from her mother. She dutifully spreads the apricots out on a sheet in her bedroom floor to prevent them from crushing each other. Each day she observes them in their different shades and different stages of ripening. And as she does so, she tells the story of her contentious relationship with her mother, beginning with her mother’s constant criticisms and rejections which continued well into her adult life until her mother’s gradual descent into Alzheimer’s.
As Solnit spins her tale, she traverses a wide array of topics, including Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Shahrazad’s story-telling, Che Guevara’s work with lepers, her battle with breast cancer, fairy tales, her stay in Iceland, arctic explorers and arctic survivors, the blank slate of the snowy arctic, the visual arts, labyrinths, empathy and distance, absence, numbness, and spinning a tale of self. The recurring themes throughout are her relationship with her mother, the intricate interconnectedness and changeability of all things, and the stories we tell that make us who we are. “We think we tell stories, but often stories tell us,” she says.
Solnit’s tone is quiet, meditative, and intimate. Her voice is authentic. She takes seemingly disparate stories and connects them in surprising ways, weaving in stories from mythology as she does so. She structures her narrative so chapters mirror each other. Her opening chapter of “Apricots” is succeeded by five chapters and a middle chapter called “Knots.” Solnit then unties the knot or unravels the thread by repeating the same chapter headings in reverse order and concluding with “Apricots.” She is a Penelope weaving her tapestry by day and unwinding it at night.
With the final chapter, we come full circle, beginning and ending with “Apricots.” But we are not in the same place because Solnit is no longer the same person she was in the opening chapter. She has undergone a transformation as a result of her experiences and her story-telling. The apricots assume a metaphorical significance. They are the memories she needs to sort, preserve, and discard from her memory bank. Through the telling of her story, she loses pieces of her former self, experiences a death of sorts, and gives birth to herself anew. And as with all birth and death, pain is intrinsic to the process.
Solnit begins her memoir by challenging the reader with a question, “What’s your story?” She prompts us on our journey by sharing her story with sensitivity, depth, empathy, insight, and a profound sense of the interconnectedness and fragility of life. Everything changes, she reminds us. Nothing stays the same.
Solnit’s intimate and precious gift of her journey inspires us to reflect on our own story, the story that makes us who we are.
Highly recommended.