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thephdivabooks's review against another edition
4.0
A haunting, often humorous, and though-provoking story of one woman’s journey of delinquency, self-discovery, and healing. I found Stanton’s words captivating, I read her story in a single sitting. Her memoir taught me a lot about a time period in our country that I never really had as much of a grasp on before this. I want to seek out more about this time, and learn more from people who lived it.
Though for the most part this book is told chronologically, there is a weaving through time as Stanton reflects on lessons learned that felt very fluid—the way memories feel. Beginning as a child when she was asked to go to confession, and Stanton ponders whether she was agnostic even then, as she made up things for confession each week. Her childhood was punctuated by the separation of her parents. A story told at times matter-of-factly, but in a way that also felt ripe with the sadness that comes from a young person who hasn’t yet grasped what happened.
Actually, I took the news of her parents’ splitting up hard as well. I was never totally sure why it didn’t work, but in the final chapter she provides a lot of insight and reflection that can only be gained from growing up and getting to know our parents as people outside of being our parents.
From a young age, Stanton and the town itself are fascinated by Walpole Prison. The prison is like a character in the town, and I often felt like the town sort of existed around the prison, rather than being a town that happened to have a prison in it. The prison was a place to be feared. And yet, as Stanton grows up, her stories left me feeling that the prison felt like a symbol of the racial inequality in the 60s and 70s. The disproportionate punishment for people of color, and the disproportionate diagnosis of mental illness.
As Stanton slips into her delinquency as she calls it (a whimsical word that doesn’t quite capture the sadness she feels for herself as a young girl trying to escape the pain of life), she begins to experiment with angel dust. Stanton’s is a story that ends well—she manages to pull through her addiction and learn to feel again and heal herself. But the story was peppered with a variety of outcomes and statistics around the drug crisis and how the country was dealing with it at the time.
I’ll be honest, I thought of the 60s and 70s drug use as being more fun, free-love, and laidback than today is. Through Stanton’s story, I learned a lot about the darkness that crept beneath the surface of this time. It wasn’t all fun and freedom. The drugs marked a generation who wasn’t equipped for some of the pain that they felt through what was going on around them at the time.
The stories of Stanton’s mother also fascinate me. It seemed hard for Maureen to learn morals and what is and is not ok, when she would see her mother casually shoplift. Of course, it wasn’t casual at all. Stanton’s mother was barely able to support her kids after her separation, but the kids were perhaps not aware of the need they were facing. Then there were moments where Stanton’s mother would cook an entire roast and bring it to the beach for them that just made my heart swell with the love of a mother who doesn’t want her children to worry. Stanton’s happy memories of sandy roast sandwiches on the beach with her family, before they split up and she lost her way were so beautiful and vivid.
The depression of Stanton’s youth was a powerful theme to the story. Stanton was a person overwhelmed by her own emotions, it seemed, and she wasn’t able to fully process them. For as Stanton’s parents loved their kids, they weren’t perfect. I felt through Stanton’s words—before she fully acknowledged it herself—the pain and abandonment she felt, even though she still had both parents in her life.
There were so many raw moments in this book. The moment when a teacher mentions she comes from a broken family, and Stanton first realizes that they are broken. The moment when Stanton realizes how lonely her dad is. The moment where she realizes that neither of her parents noticed her extreme drug abuse. The moments where she realizes how lucky she was to never seriously hurt herself or others with her drug use.
These moments are told in such a reflective way. The book may sound sad or hard to read, but for me it wasn’t at all. Stanton’s writing captivated me. She wrote with an authenticity that made her stories feel relatable even for someone who didn’t really live through the same things.
This is a perfect choice for non-fiction November. Or really for any time. Thank you to TLC book tours for my copy. Opinions are my own.
Though for the most part this book is told chronologically, there is a weaving through time as Stanton reflects on lessons learned that felt very fluid—the way memories feel. Beginning as a child when she was asked to go to confession, and Stanton ponders whether she was agnostic even then, as she made up things for confession each week. Her childhood was punctuated by the separation of her parents. A story told at times matter-of-factly, but in a way that also felt ripe with the sadness that comes from a young person who hasn’t yet grasped what happened.
Actually, I took the news of her parents’ splitting up hard as well. I was never totally sure why it didn’t work, but in the final chapter she provides a lot of insight and reflection that can only be gained from growing up and getting to know our parents as people outside of being our parents.
From a young age, Stanton and the town itself are fascinated by Walpole Prison. The prison is like a character in the town, and I often felt like the town sort of existed around the prison, rather than being a town that happened to have a prison in it. The prison was a place to be feared. And yet, as Stanton grows up, her stories left me feeling that the prison felt like a symbol of the racial inequality in the 60s and 70s. The disproportionate punishment for people of color, and the disproportionate diagnosis of mental illness.
As Stanton slips into her delinquency as she calls it (a whimsical word that doesn’t quite capture the sadness she feels for herself as a young girl trying to escape the pain of life), she begins to experiment with angel dust. Stanton’s is a story that ends well—she manages to pull through her addiction and learn to feel again and heal herself. But the story was peppered with a variety of outcomes and statistics around the drug crisis and how the country was dealing with it at the time.
I’ll be honest, I thought of the 60s and 70s drug use as being more fun, free-love, and laidback than today is. Through Stanton’s story, I learned a lot about the darkness that crept beneath the surface of this time. It wasn’t all fun and freedom. The drugs marked a generation who wasn’t equipped for some of the pain that they felt through what was going on around them at the time.
The stories of Stanton’s mother also fascinate me. It seemed hard for Maureen to learn morals and what is and is not ok, when she would see her mother casually shoplift. Of course, it wasn’t casual at all. Stanton’s mother was barely able to support her kids after her separation, but the kids were perhaps not aware of the need they were facing. Then there were moments where Stanton’s mother would cook an entire roast and bring it to the beach for them that just made my heart swell with the love of a mother who doesn’t want her children to worry. Stanton’s happy memories of sandy roast sandwiches on the beach with her family, before they split up and she lost her way were so beautiful and vivid.
The depression of Stanton’s youth was a powerful theme to the story. Stanton was a person overwhelmed by her own emotions, it seemed, and she wasn’t able to fully process them. For as Stanton’s parents loved their kids, they weren’t perfect. I felt through Stanton’s words—before she fully acknowledged it herself—the pain and abandonment she felt, even though she still had both parents in her life.
There were so many raw moments in this book. The moment when a teacher mentions she comes from a broken family, and Stanton first realizes that they are broken. The moment when Stanton realizes how lonely her dad is. The moment where she realizes that neither of her parents noticed her extreme drug abuse. The moments where she realizes how lucky she was to never seriously hurt herself or others with her drug use.
These moments are told in such a reflective way. The book may sound sad or hard to read, but for me it wasn’t at all. Stanton’s writing captivated me. She wrote with an authenticity that made her stories feel relatable even for someone who didn’t really live through the same things.
This is a perfect choice for non-fiction November. Or really for any time. Thank you to TLC book tours for my copy. Opinions are my own.
tobin_elliott's review against another edition
dark
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
reflective
sad
medium-paced
3.0
I will say I enjoyed this book, though it's shocking how—despite my similar age to the author—incredibly different our experiences growing up were so wildly different.
The stories are entertaining while also being somewhat horrifying. The break-ins, the thefts, the drug use, all of it, left me kind of really not liking the author all that much...not that I think she wrote it to be liked.
I guess, for me, the major stumbling block was, while it was an interesting glimpse into an extremely chaotic childhood, there didn't seem to be an over-arching point to the entire story. Maybe it's "drugs are bad"...maybe it's "parents should be more involved"...I don't know.
I guess I was looking for some sort of massive awakening, or an incredible realization, but it was more that the author just kind of...grew up. Which, to be fair, is a good thing, because many either don't survive those teen years, or they don't ever grow up and just continue to make those same stupid decisions well into adulthood.
It's a good cautionary tale, but I think most of those who would read it have either already succumbed to, or vanquished their own demons.
The stories are entertaining while also being somewhat horrifying. The break-ins, the thefts, the drug use, all of it, left me kind of really not liking the author all that much...not that I think she wrote it to be liked.
I guess, for me, the major stumbling block was, while it was an interesting glimpse into an extremely chaotic childhood, there didn't seem to be an over-arching point to the entire story. Maybe it's "drugs are bad"...maybe it's "parents should be more involved"...I don't know.
I guess I was looking for some sort of massive awakening, or an incredible realization, but it was more that the author just kind of...grew up. Which, to be fair, is a good thing, because many either don't survive those teen years, or they don't ever grow up and just continue to make those same stupid decisions well into adulthood.
It's a good cautionary tale, but I think most of those who would read it have either already succumbed to, or vanquished their own demons.
rickijill's review against another edition
4.0
The difficult thing for me in reading this book is trying not to be so judgmental about Maureen and her dysfunctional family. However, I think that we as readers and humans should judge bad behavior, because how else can we possibly set standards for ourselves and our own children?
One commonality Maureen's family shares with almost 50% of other American families at the time is divorce. There was a huge spike in divorce in the late sixties and early seventies, and Stanton does a great job explaining what was going on in society at the time that probably contributed to this phenomenon. I actually enjoyed reading about her family and their life in small-town Massachusetts in the shadow of a famous prison (Stanton does share stories about famous prisoners throughout the book). The antics on their cul-de-sac are very well-written, and I love Stanton's voice throughout the narrative. However, after about the first third of the book, after her parents' separation when things truly spiral out of control for Maureen's mother and her children, her story becomes a little too repetitive. Stanton describes doing drugs with her friends (mostly angel dust), doing really stupid things including breaking the law (larceny among others), saying disrespectful and stupid things, and never really getting caught or having consequences for said behavior. Then the same scenario is repeated. And repeated. And repeated.....it's almost as if Stanton is trying to comment on white privilege or something.
I would have liked to have read more about how Stanton gave up drugs, went to college, and turned her life around. She just decided one day at school during her senior year that she wouldn't partake in the Angel Dust again because something scared her. But when her father gives her $100 for voice lessons, she uses it to purchase cocaine. There are many poor decisions in this book, book there were also many good choices in Stanton's life obviously as she has achieved many accolades in her field. I would've enjoyed reading more about her strength, resilience, hard work, and achievements.
After all....her delinquency is only part of the story.
If you enjoy memoirs, reading about the culture of the 1970s, large families and family drama, and narratives written with a likable voice, then you should enjoy Body Leaping Backward. I give this book 4 stars only because I want more about how Maureen Stanton overcomes her delinquency, but obviously that isn't this book's focus.
Disclosure: I received a copy of Body Leaping Backward from the publisher via TLC Book Tours in exchange for a fair and honest review.
One commonality Maureen's family shares with almost 50% of other American families at the time is divorce. There was a huge spike in divorce in the late sixties and early seventies, and Stanton does a great job explaining what was going on in society at the time that probably contributed to this phenomenon. I actually enjoyed reading about her family and their life in small-town Massachusetts in the shadow of a famous prison (Stanton does share stories about famous prisoners throughout the book). The antics on their cul-de-sac are very well-written, and I love Stanton's voice throughout the narrative. However, after about the first third of the book, after her parents' separation when things truly spiral out of control for Maureen's mother and her children, her story becomes a little too repetitive. Stanton describes doing drugs with her friends (mostly angel dust), doing really stupid things including breaking the law (larceny among others), saying disrespectful and stupid things, and never really getting caught or having consequences for said behavior. Then the same scenario is repeated. And repeated. And repeated.....it's almost as if Stanton is trying to comment on white privilege or something.
I would have liked to have read more about how Stanton gave up drugs, went to college, and turned her life around. She just decided one day at school during her senior year that she wouldn't partake in the Angel Dust again because something scared her. But when her father gives her $100 for voice lessons, she uses it to purchase cocaine. There are many poor decisions in this book, book there were also many good choices in Stanton's life obviously as she has achieved many accolades in her field. I would've enjoyed reading more about her strength, resilience, hard work, and achievements.
After all....her delinquency is only part of the story.
If you enjoy memoirs, reading about the culture of the 1970s, large families and family drama, and narratives written with a likable voice, then you should enjoy Body Leaping Backward. I give this book 4 stars only because I want more about how Maureen Stanton overcomes her delinquency, but obviously that isn't this book's focus.
Disclosure: I received a copy of Body Leaping Backward from the publisher via TLC Book Tours in exchange for a fair and honest review.
kelroka's review against another edition
4.0
Maureen Stanton's memoir Body Leaping Backward: Memoir of a Delinquent Girlhood is the story of the trials and tribulations of growing up in Walpole, Massachusetts in the 1970s.
Overall this is an engaging, well told memoir, with an amazing sense of place (as a person who grew up in Massachusetts, I especially appreciated the shout-out to Building 19!) Though, honestly, I expected this memoir to be a bit more dramatic, (see the author's addiction to Angel Dust, her short career as a petty criminal, the ever looming specter of Walpole Prison), it all just sort of washes over you like a drug-addled dream of the 1970s, with no real drama, no real consequences.
The most interesting facet of this book is the idea of a life lived in the shadow of Walpole prison. What does that mean for the identity of a town? For a young person? And while I appreciate Stanton's struggle, the fact that she was able to overcome so many obstacles and create a successful life for herself, it would have been nice to see a bit more awareness of the privilege that kept her out of the prison system.
On the whole, this was a really enjoyable read. Though I suspect it will resonate most with readers who have some knowledge of the area in the 1970s, I would recommend it to anyone who enjoys memoirs about delinquent girls, and their ability to rise from the ashes of their own destruction.
FULL DISCLOSURE: I received an ARC of this book from Houghton Mifflin Harcourt/Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
Overall this is an engaging, well told memoir, with an amazing sense of place (as a person who grew up in Massachusetts, I especially appreciated the shout-out to Building 19!) Though, honestly, I expected this memoir to be a bit more dramatic, (see the author's addiction to Angel Dust, her short career as a petty criminal, the ever looming specter of Walpole Prison), it all just sort of washes over you like a drug-addled dream of the 1970s, with no real drama, no real consequences.
The most interesting facet of this book is the idea of a life lived in the shadow of Walpole prison. What does that mean for the identity of a town? For a young person? And while I appreciate Stanton's struggle, the fact that she was able to overcome so many obstacles and create a successful life for herself, it would have been nice to see a bit more awareness of the privilege that kept her out of the prison system.
On the whole, this was a really enjoyable read. Though I suspect it will resonate most with readers who have some knowledge of the area in the 1970s, I would recommend it to anyone who enjoys memoirs about delinquent girls, and their ability to rise from the ashes of their own destruction.
FULL DISCLOSURE: I received an ARC of this book from Houghton Mifflin Harcourt/Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
clp412's review against another edition
4.0
This book was read by my bookclub and it brought up interesting conversation. All of us learned something about Angel Dust/PCP and how much it influenced the community in Walpole where Maureen grew up. The story of Maureen's childhood brought up fun memories and conversation for us to discuss from parenting philosophies to our high school experiences (which all were thankfully different than this book!). Overall it painted a very good picture of what life was like in the 70s and the diary entries and the music/song references throughout. The Walpole prison played a big role in the life in the community for Maureen and we wished there had been more about that in the story.
The mom was the character that most of us could relate to the most and enjoyed the most (as well as who the book was dedicated to). Although she seemed overwhelmed and we found her a bit clueless as to Maureen's lifestyle we found her the most likable (and creative at times). Who brings a roast to the beach!?!? So fun!
Maureen touches upon her academic successes and athletic abilities but we wanted to hear more about that and more about her family interactions. We know her siblings were an important part of her growing up and we craved more about the bonds (good and bad) with siblings and more of those experiences in the book.
The final thing we discussed was how as parents we could be more aware of our children when they are in high school. Maureen mentioned her mom's biggest concern in high school was unplanned pregnancy and so mom seemed unaware of the drugs her daughter was taking. Life has changed so much since we were children with technology, cellphones, e-cigaraettes, etc. and so as parents we want to make sure we are staying ahead of the challenges for our children to support them.
Maureen had an interesting childhood and using her diaries to write the book with a unique story in the 70s and it was a good read overall.
Thank you to The BookClub Cookbook galley match program as well as Houghton Mifflin Harcourt publishing for the opportunity for my entire book club to read this book!
The mom was the character that most of us could relate to the most and enjoyed the most (as well as who the book was dedicated to). Although she seemed overwhelmed and we found her a bit clueless as to Maureen's lifestyle we found her the most likable (and creative at times). Who brings a roast to the beach!?!? So fun!
Maureen touches upon her academic successes and athletic abilities but we wanted to hear more about that and more about her family interactions. We know her siblings were an important part of her growing up and we craved more about the bonds (good and bad) with siblings and more of those experiences in the book.
The final thing we discussed was how as parents we could be more aware of our children when they are in high school. Maureen mentioned her mom's biggest concern in high school was unplanned pregnancy and so mom seemed unaware of the drugs her daughter was taking. Life has changed so much since we were children with technology, cellphones, e-cigaraettes, etc. and so as parents we want to make sure we are staying ahead of the challenges for our children to support them.
Maureen had an interesting childhood and using her diaries to write the book with a unique story in the 70s and it was a good read overall.
Thank you to The BookClub Cookbook galley match program as well as Houghton Mifflin Harcourt publishing for the opportunity for my entire book club to read this book!
crystals_library's review against another edition
4.0
Maureen Stanton grew up in Walpole, MA (home of the Walpole Prison) in the 1970s. She was a middle child with 6 siblings. At the age of 12, Maureen's parents were the first parents on her street to get separated and then divorced. Her family seemed to be the typical Catholic family and she had no idea that her parents weren't getting along. After the separation, Maureen's mother took to shoplifting in an attempt to keep up with their middle class lifestyle.
Maureen had always done and said what she wants. So when she decides to try PCP/angel dust at the age of 15, she is all in. Angel dust numbs her feelings (although she doesn't realize that's what she's doing) and she no longer cares about school, swimming or gymnastics. She only cares about getting dusted. Maureen is extremely lucky to be alive after all the drugs, hitchhiking, parties, vandalism, and theft.
Body Leaping Backward does start slowly and I wasn't sure where the book was headed. It becomes clear that the background of Maureen's upbringing is clouded by Nixon's "war on drugs", Walpole prison and it's famous inmates, and Nixon's own legal troubles. Maureen is very lucky to have been a privileged white female because if she had been a minority, I believe that she would have ended up in jail and/or prison. As an adult, Maureen is very aware of her "luck" and privilege.
Maureen had always done and said what she wants. So when she decides to try PCP/angel dust at the age of 15, she is all in. Angel dust numbs her feelings (although she doesn't realize that's what she's doing) and she no longer cares about school, swimming or gymnastics. She only cares about getting dusted. Maureen is extremely lucky to be alive after all the drugs, hitchhiking, parties, vandalism, and theft.
Body Leaping Backward does start slowly and I wasn't sure where the book was headed. It becomes clear that the background of Maureen's upbringing is clouded by Nixon's "war on drugs", Walpole prison and it's famous inmates, and Nixon's own legal troubles. Maureen is very lucky to have been a privileged white female because if she had been a minority, I believe that she would have ended up in jail and/or prison. As an adult, Maureen is very aware of her "luck" and privilege.
blackoxford's review against another edition
4.0
Bourgeois Boomer Blues
Sexual intercourse began
In nineteen sixty-three
(which was rather late for me) -
Between the end of the "Chatterley" ban
And the Beatles' first LP.
Up to then there'd only been
A sort of bargaining,
A wrangle for the ring,
A shame that started at sixteen
And spread to everything.
Then all at once the quarrel sank:
Everyone felt the same,
And every life became
A brilliant breaking of the bank,
A quite unlosable game.
So life was never better than
In nineteen sixty-three
(Though just too late for me) -
Between the end of the "Chatterley" ban
And the Beatles' first LP.
Annus Mirabilis
Philip Larkin, 1967
Larkin was right. Something happened to culture, and not just in Britain, in the 1960’s. “Between the end of the ‘Chatterley’ ban and the Beatles' first LP” is a reasonable poetic approximation of the timing. And it wasn’t just attitudes towards sex and the other things that sociologists, as well as poets, think about that changed. There was a social revolution within the family itself that redefined what it meant to its members and how it worked. For many years I thought these changes were peculiar to my family and were too idiosyncratic (and embarrassing) to consider seriously. Stanton’s memoir provides some stunning insights which prod not just my memory but my judgment about the generality of my own experiences.
Like Stanton, I was brought up in a large American Catholic family (seven children in hers, six in mine). Both our sets of parents had escaped from respectable but decided urban poverty to relative suburban luxury (hers outside Boston, mine outside New York City). We even both had substantial prisons housed nearby (hers state, mine county). Stanton’s descriptions of the trivial routines and rituals of this new middle-middle class life must be familiar to most members of my generational cohort - weekly church attendance, involvement in the local community events and celebrations, the ‘unchallenging’ (read: non-existent) cultural scene, and the typical entertainments of insipid network television, drive-in movies, backyard pools, and the beach. In short, a caricature of itself as a life of the ‘long 1950’s.’
Where we differ is that I was the eldest in my family while Stanton was a middle child of a slightly younger family. This is significant because, as we both experienced, the social changes which took place occurred within this generation not between this generation and its parents. The parents were as much involved in these changes as their children. Every year counts. The older siblings ended up as the adults their parents might have been if they had maintained a sort of cultural continuity. The parents themselves simply stopped behaving and believing as they had been. And the younger siblings made what have come to be called unusual ‘life style choices.’ There was less a generation gap than a fusion (or confusion perhaps) of generations.*
Stanton describes this process of familial reformulation (or dissolution if you prefer) from the perspective of the middle of the pack; I experienced it from the vanguard. But the pieces fit like parts of a jigsaw puzzle. There is a before and after which are as definite as Larkin’s description. Before was a family system of clear patriarchal hierarchy, the discipline of which was maintained by the threat of physical violence which was administered by the resident male but directed by the female. Relations among family members were established competitively but were always subservient to the relationships among the parents and other adults. The community of adults was supreme.
This implicit structure established a sort of extreme familial vulnerability to the community. It kept the family in check and prevented it from the extremes to which it was tempted. One’s family was not just one’s own business. How one’s children acted and how parents acted in response to criticism of their children’s actions was of paramount importance. One way in which this was signalled to the community at large was church attendance, the equivalent perhaps of the Dutch Calvinist tradition of keeping one’s curtains open in the evening. Trivial misdemeanours, much less authentic crimes were scandals sufficient to rouse community attention and righteous comment. So they rarely occurred.
For good or ill, this was the middle class Paradise I left to go to university in 1965. From conversations with my next younger brother who started university two years later, it appears that his experience is similar, although strains were even then beginning to appear in the fabric of suburban existence. And progressively each of my siblings seems to have inhabited an increasingly strange universe. By the time I finished university in 1969, no one in the family any longer attended church services; my mother was working; my father was still in the picture but almost never at home during waking hours; one sister was living in a tree house somewhere in the mid-West; the other was involved with an abusive partner; one brother was about to drop out of high school; and another was on the verge of being wanted by police in three states for armed robbery. All the younger ones were involved to some extent with drugs.
Clearly there are any number of sociological explanations for such a dramatic transformation. Quite apart from the psychological imbalances that were undoubtedly present (I always knew all the rest were crazy), there were enormous social upheavals underway - the profound changes in the Catholic Church, the war in Vietnam, the Civil Rights movement, economic recession... and oh yes the contraceptive pill. But none of these can account for the speed and depth of transformation I observed. Whatever was the root cause of the family reshuffle was internally generated not externally created. And although it was self-generated, it was simultaneously self-generated by other similar families in similar places.
It is my hypothesis that the family succumbed not to the unexpected changes that arrived with the 1960’s but to the very conscious construction of the environment of the past-WWII suburb which was meant to foster it. These places were communities only in the sense that there were numbers of people living in some proximity to each other. Their participation with each other in joint projects and services was expected to establish something like a Jeffersonian self-regulating society of mutual regard. And this seemed to occur, but for a very short time only. Without ‘natural’ or historical ties, this sort of artificial neighbourliness is simply tedious, especially when more and more urgent headlines draw attention way from the vague dream of independence within a caring community.
So my guess is that it is not the deterioration of family that caused the collapse that Stanton and I experienced. It is is the absence of authentic community on which the family depends for its existence that is the driving force, or rather the driving vacuum, to which the family relationships succumbed. The centerless, soulless, cultureless collections of economically and racially homogenous family groups which were really only concerned with their own health and welfare are not sustainable as communities and induce an adaptation in the participating families that appear less than functional.
And here is a thought about the implication of that adaptation: The right-wing political reaction that has been growing in America for decades and that has culminated first in the Tea Party and then in Trumpism is primarily a reflection of this planned destruction of community through these faux suburban expanses. These are inhabited by disappointed people. The world has not worked out as planned. They want the rewards, the family, the community, the world they had hoped and planned for. They feel cheated. The fact that they continue, fifty years on, to build and inhabit the same kind of maladaptive, idealised but unsustainable, communities is not something they really want to consider.
*I am reminded of the wonderful British comedy series (and film), Absolutely Fabulous with Jennifer Saunders and Joanna Lumley which features just this kind of generational confusion.
Sexual intercourse began
In nineteen sixty-three
(which was rather late for me) -
Between the end of the "Chatterley" ban
And the Beatles' first LP.
Up to then there'd only been
A sort of bargaining,
A wrangle for the ring,
A shame that started at sixteen
And spread to everything.
Then all at once the quarrel sank:
Everyone felt the same,
And every life became
A brilliant breaking of the bank,
A quite unlosable game.
So life was never better than
In nineteen sixty-three
(Though just too late for me) -
Between the end of the "Chatterley" ban
And the Beatles' first LP.
Annus Mirabilis
Philip Larkin, 1967
Larkin was right. Something happened to culture, and not just in Britain, in the 1960’s. “Between the end of the ‘Chatterley’ ban and the Beatles' first LP” is a reasonable poetic approximation of the timing. And it wasn’t just attitudes towards sex and the other things that sociologists, as well as poets, think about that changed. There was a social revolution within the family itself that redefined what it meant to its members and how it worked. For many years I thought these changes were peculiar to my family and were too idiosyncratic (and embarrassing) to consider seriously. Stanton’s memoir provides some stunning insights which prod not just my memory but my judgment about the generality of my own experiences.
Like Stanton, I was brought up in a large American Catholic family (seven children in hers, six in mine). Both our sets of parents had escaped from respectable but decided urban poverty to relative suburban luxury (hers outside Boston, mine outside New York City). We even both had substantial prisons housed nearby (hers state, mine county). Stanton’s descriptions of the trivial routines and rituals of this new middle-middle class life must be familiar to most members of my generational cohort - weekly church attendance, involvement in the local community events and celebrations, the ‘unchallenging’ (read: non-existent) cultural scene, and the typical entertainments of insipid network television, drive-in movies, backyard pools, and the beach. In short, a caricature of itself as a life of the ‘long 1950’s.’
Where we differ is that I was the eldest in my family while Stanton was a middle child of a slightly younger family. This is significant because, as we both experienced, the social changes which took place occurred within this generation not between this generation and its parents. The parents were as much involved in these changes as their children. Every year counts. The older siblings ended up as the adults their parents might have been if they had maintained a sort of cultural continuity. The parents themselves simply stopped behaving and believing as they had been. And the younger siblings made what have come to be called unusual ‘life style choices.’ There was less a generation gap than a fusion (or confusion perhaps) of generations.*
Stanton describes this process of familial reformulation (or dissolution if you prefer) from the perspective of the middle of the pack; I experienced it from the vanguard. But the pieces fit like parts of a jigsaw puzzle. There is a before and after which are as definite as Larkin’s description. Before was a family system of clear patriarchal hierarchy, the discipline of which was maintained by the threat of physical violence which was administered by the resident male but directed by the female. Relations among family members were established competitively but were always subservient to the relationships among the parents and other adults. The community of adults was supreme.
This implicit structure established a sort of extreme familial vulnerability to the community. It kept the family in check and prevented it from the extremes to which it was tempted. One’s family was not just one’s own business. How one’s children acted and how parents acted in response to criticism of their children’s actions was of paramount importance. One way in which this was signalled to the community at large was church attendance, the equivalent perhaps of the Dutch Calvinist tradition of keeping one’s curtains open in the evening. Trivial misdemeanours, much less authentic crimes were scandals sufficient to rouse community attention and righteous comment. So they rarely occurred.
For good or ill, this was the middle class Paradise I left to go to university in 1965. From conversations with my next younger brother who started university two years later, it appears that his experience is similar, although strains were even then beginning to appear in the fabric of suburban existence. And progressively each of my siblings seems to have inhabited an increasingly strange universe. By the time I finished university in 1969, no one in the family any longer attended church services; my mother was working; my father was still in the picture but almost never at home during waking hours; one sister was living in a tree house somewhere in the mid-West; the other was involved with an abusive partner; one brother was about to drop out of high school; and another was on the verge of being wanted by police in three states for armed robbery. All the younger ones were involved to some extent with drugs.
Clearly there are any number of sociological explanations for such a dramatic transformation. Quite apart from the psychological imbalances that were undoubtedly present (I always knew all the rest were crazy), there were enormous social upheavals underway - the profound changes in the Catholic Church, the war in Vietnam, the Civil Rights movement, economic recession... and oh yes the contraceptive pill. But none of these can account for the speed and depth of transformation I observed. Whatever was the root cause of the family reshuffle was internally generated not externally created. And although it was self-generated, it was simultaneously self-generated by other similar families in similar places.
It is my hypothesis that the family succumbed not to the unexpected changes that arrived with the 1960’s but to the very conscious construction of the environment of the past-WWII suburb which was meant to foster it. These places were communities only in the sense that there were numbers of people living in some proximity to each other. Their participation with each other in joint projects and services was expected to establish something like a Jeffersonian self-regulating society of mutual regard. And this seemed to occur, but for a very short time only. Without ‘natural’ or historical ties, this sort of artificial neighbourliness is simply tedious, especially when more and more urgent headlines draw attention way from the vague dream of independence within a caring community.
So my guess is that it is not the deterioration of family that caused the collapse that Stanton and I experienced. It is is the absence of authentic community on which the family depends for its existence that is the driving force, or rather the driving vacuum, to which the family relationships succumbed. The centerless, soulless, cultureless collections of economically and racially homogenous family groups which were really only concerned with their own health and welfare are not sustainable as communities and induce an adaptation in the participating families that appear less than functional.
And here is a thought about the implication of that adaptation: The right-wing political reaction that has been growing in America for decades and that has culminated first in the Tea Party and then in Trumpism is primarily a reflection of this planned destruction of community through these faux suburban expanses. These are inhabited by disappointed people. The world has not worked out as planned. They want the rewards, the family, the community, the world they had hoped and planned for. They feel cheated. The fact that they continue, fifty years on, to build and inhabit the same kind of maladaptive, idealised but unsustainable, communities is not something they really want to consider.
*I am reminded of the wonderful British comedy series (and film), Absolutely Fabulous with Jennifer Saunders and Joanna Lumley which features just this kind of generational confusion.
ritah's review
3.0
3.5 stars
unflinchingly honest-- also depressing-- but it's true life, so...
recommended for fans of true coming-of-age and women's memoirs
unflinchingly honest-- also depressing-- but it's true life, so...
recommended for fans of true coming-of-age and women's memoirs
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