I’m penning reviews for The New York Journal of Books, but how I’m required to write for the journal totally goes against my style: I like to take responsibility for my opinion, my words, my ideas. This means speaking in the first person. And besides, I think in the first person. The journal requires reviewers to use the third person, to make the review as ‘objective’ and non personal as possible. But the use of the third ‘person’ sets up a distance that seems to shut down inspiration, and I write my way, somewhat woodenly through the exercise. Words don’t come rushing in, that’s for sure!
While reading The Naked Truth, a memoir by Leslie Morgan, bestselling author of Crazy Love and Mommy Wars, I felt like I was in the hands of an experienced writer and so I relaxed, even though she said ‘trust me’ in the fourth line of the prologue and ‘I kid you not’ in the first paragraph of Chapter 1.
Leslie Morgan writes with such chatty confidence about her personal dilemmas as a woman at 49, that when she went into the backstory of her failed second marriage after only a teaser about her intention for the rest of the book, I thought, ‘backstory, failed marriage, I’ll give her a break.’ When she described the first sex she’d had in three years – with a blue-eyed, charming younger man whom she met at the airport waiting for her flight, I kept reading. I stayed with her as she was attracted to and bedded five different men in pursuit of self-discovery and confidence. I only began to wonder about the men (every one was so grateful, so gushing in his praise of her body, her generosity in sex; each one seemed so decent and trustworthy and sexy and good looking) after she fell for the fifth guy. She recounted one heady experience after another; when men noticed her, as she welcomed their gaze, their comments, their lust and affection. There was no such thing as inappropriate touching. The #MeToo took on a different meaning, i.e. I’m going to have my fun, too! But I grew tired of the words, ‘pussy’ and ‘cock’.
The Naked Truth was an easy and compelling read even when the narrator lost confidence in what she was doing. Even when her relationships got messy, when her heart was broken. Although my divorce was years ago and under completely different circumstances, I wanted to know how her journey concluded. I saw red flags when the guy she finally falls for shows himself to be an alcholic, a hoarder, a jealous mate. But Morgan talked me out of it again and again until finally I truly felt trapped in that vulnerable emotional landscape of being in love with the wrong person. It became less about a steamy sex scene and more about What did she learn?
As I was reading I thought of two people I wanted to share the book with.
To link to my podcast, SOME KINDA WOMAN, Stories of Us: https://caitlinhicks.com/wordpress/podcasts-some-kinda-woman/
