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Not nearly as good as _Liars Club_, but still a decent read.
This book was above average. Standard 3 star fare. As every other review will proclaim, I loved The Liars' Club, the first book in her memoir trilogy. I read this one because I bought and am reading my way through all 3. So why isn't this as good as the first you may ask? There is not much driving narrative. In other words, it isn't very linear- which may not be good or bad in and of itself. But it interested me less personally. I like characters, but I NEED a fairly linear story even if there are multiple plots going on at once and jumps in time. That is why, try as I might I will never make it through A Confederacy of Dunces. I don't deal with the picaresque novel well. Don Quijote is the last one I made it through and that was a slog for me. I digress. Halfway, through Cherry, Kerr switches to second person narrative for the rest of the book which, rather than drawing one in, has the opposite effect of distancing the reader. The second half also deals with random drug trips, so as I alluded to before it has much less structure. I also feel like it ends pretty abruptly with no satisfaction of circling back to the prologue. I don't need stories wrapped up in a bow, but the ending to this one was just more icing on a very rambling, jumbled cake. All this being said, i liked Kerr's voice. She uses language with poet's ease, but it is refreshingly devoid of pretension. I read this book right on the heels of her first one which had a very innocent voice to it since she was very young in it. But this one was shocking to here her use vulgar language right off the bat. It was perfect for suggesting the different part of her life she was going though, and it suggested a different style for her different stage in life. Was it good? Yes, it was fine. I haven't read Lit yet - the third book. But from where I stand now, you wouldn't miss much by either skipping it or just reading the first half.
Karr surprised me with this moving portrait of alcoholism and the underclass in poverty stricken Texas, mostly because it resonates so deeply with me after having suffered the same in northern Wisconsin right around the same time (though I have to mention that our poverty was far more extreme and the alcoholism far more terrifying; still, I can relate to the family that hides its shame and doesn't discuss anything openly, what she calls 'distressed families' who live in silence). It's an agony most can't understand.
I can also relate to her distant, narcissistic mother, who was an elitist despite being a relative failure in life, who told Mary that she wanted to have a secretary and not be one.
I read it mostly because she once dated David Foster Wallace, a favorite author almost exactly my age--I had no idea she was so much older than he--but I found something deeper and much more interesting, even if I should not be surprised that much of what brought them together was substance abuse and brilliant literary minds.
She also unwittingly portrays the dissolution of the faux Boomer idealism of the times, how the peace and love generation sold out almost immediately as the 60s came to a close, seeking only the sex and drugs and rock and roll that Gen Xers like myself and David witnessed (and like the graphic novel about the Black Panthers I was reading simultaneously, she shows how the drug busts of the era were intended to bring down radicals and anti-war activists).
It's one of the best memoirs I've ever read and I can't wait to delve into more of her work. After I recover from this one.
I can also relate to her distant, narcissistic mother, who was an elitist despite being a relative failure in life, who told Mary that she wanted to have a secretary and not be one.
I read it mostly because she once dated David Foster Wallace, a favorite author almost exactly my age--I had no idea she was so much older than he--but I found something deeper and much more interesting, even if I should not be surprised that much of what brought them together was substance abuse and brilliant literary minds.
She also unwittingly portrays the dissolution of the faux Boomer idealism of the times, how the peace and love generation sold out almost immediately as the 60s came to a close, seeking only the sex and drugs and rock and roll that Gen Xers like myself and David witnessed (and like the graphic novel about the Black Panthers I was reading simultaneously, she shows how the drug busts of the era were intended to bring down radicals and anti-war activists).
It's one of the best memoirs I've ever read and I can't wait to delve into more of her work. After I recover from this one.
I love it when poets write prose. Karr's language is just so, so good. This was also interesting to read just after George Sanders' Tenth of December, which I was so ambivalent about because of its darkness. Cherry is, if anything, darker, because the things Karr experienced and bore witness to are real, but I felt uplifted that a mind like hers can emerge from an adolescence like that and live to tell the tale so evocatively.
Some really beautiful passages, and the writing style was enthralling - everything melted together, just like how memory feels. Unfortunately in a lot of places felt lowkey racist and was just making me queasy so I couldn't fully enjoy it. Also I started to zone out towards the end when the whole narrative basically shifts entirely to talking about the stoner lifestyle 😭
Like "The Liar's Club," Karr's first book in her series of memoirs, this second installment was greatly enjoyable. I feel as if I can hear Karr's voice when I read her words, and I could listen to her stories for long uninterrupted chunks of time. In this book she again brings the people and experiences of her past to vivid life.
On occasion I felt a little thrown by her habit of interrupting the story's flow and ending paragraphs with quoted lines of poetry or a reflection on the story's events from the older, wiser (?) Mary Karr, often parenthetically. It had a way of impairing the immediacy of her retellings, which often seemed narrated not in reflection but in real time. And her frequent use of second person also jarring me, though it eventually became transparent. These struck me at times as affectations, but I overlooked them and kept reading with appetite.
On occasion I felt a little thrown by her habit of interrupting the story's flow and ending paragraphs with quoted lines of poetry or a reflection on the story's events from the older, wiser (?) Mary Karr, often parenthetically. It had a way of impairing the immediacy of her retellings, which often seemed narrated not in reflection but in real time. And her frequent use of second person also jarring me, though it eventually became transparent. These struck me at times as affectations, but I overlooked them and kept reading with appetite.
adventurous
emotional
funny
reflective
slow-paced
This is probably more like a 3.5. Overall, it was effective and enjoyable, especially the first 2/3 or so - her junior high years. But the last third of the book is...less so, and the last 30 pages, full of acid-trip hallucinations, were a serious slog. Most of the book is written in the second person, which is mostly fine, but made those last 30 pages even tougher. Still, Karr is a beautiful writer, and I'm looking forward to finally getting to Lit.
review from my English class:
I am not very successful as a little girl. When I grow up, I will probably be a mess"
-Mary Karr's diary, age 11
Some praise the cherry for its beauty and fragrance, others honor it for its political tranquility, courage, and bridge to friendship, while many use cherries as a metaphor for suicide. However, Mary Karr manipulates the cherry into a symbol of death and rebirth, innocence, and sexuality. In Cherry, her 276-page memoir, teenage narrator Mary Karr alternates between first and second person narration with eloquence, wisdom, and witty humor to invite us into her personal coming of age story. Karr’s childhood was by no means desirable; however, she uses her storytelling talent, prose lyricism, and Texan dialect to engage readers in her unsugarcoated story.
Set in 1970’s America, Karr begins her story shortly before 7th grade. She discusses loneliness and how that contributes to her intellectual advancements; she effortlessly receives A’s in AP English and AP History. Her love for literature and poetry is perceptible through her numerous analogies to famous writings. She shows conversions between blushing at the thought of holding her dazzling crush’s hand and fantasizing over her older boyfriends and adopting a promiscuous lifestyle. She reveals her interest in experimentation by exploring drugs with her friends while encouraging her virtuous friend Meredith to accompany her. She morphs from innocent to rebellious through little triumphs of commonly defying school dress code and ditching class but also larger mistakes such as being arrested under multiple charges. The novel ends around the conclusion of her high school career leaving her abandoned by many of her friends and uncertain of the future.
Karr’s family’s influence in her upbringing is evident; she explores her low self-worth and disposition by continually reflecting upon her surroundings. She compares her body to her sister, Lecia’s, mature and attractive one and repeatedly comments on Lecia’s flirtatious mannerism and effortless accomplishments. Lecia does what she can to appear apart from her dysfunctional family, a characteristic Mary attempts to adapt. Karr shows steady transitions into independence when she stops sleeping with Lecia, even though she dearly misses her sister’s company. She edges on suicidal thoughts and attempts to kill herself through prescription drugs resulting in only a stomach ache and receiving her father’s comfort. The compassion she receives from her father is apparent not only through her actions in high school, but also through the rest of her life seen through her sympathetic writing style. Her sensitivity and maturity come from her mother who has recently returned from a mental hospital; due to her mother, Karr has become numb to the actuality of suicide after it had been tossed around as a norm countless times.
Karr splits Cherry into four key parts: Elementary’s End, Midway, Limbo, and High. She repeats the mantra “I was there to watch” at turning points in her life. The mantra can be discerned by the way she writes her memoir; we are here to watch her life and all the ways she transforms, though we do not do anything to modify or see it as anything less than its actuality and unchangeability.
Cherry is an essential read for adolescents because of its ability to stay brutally honest while remaining sincerely tender. As said in the San Francisco Chronicle, “Teenage girls might come away from it knowing that they’re not freaks, that mistakes aren’t fatal, and that good writing kisses just about everything better. And for teenage boys, reading Cherry would be like stealing the other team’s playbook”. Mary Karr comforts and helps the American youth feel accepted through their experimentation and growth by relating the common fears and triumphs to her own brutal childhood and teaching the value of self-forgiveness.
I am not very successful as a little girl. When I grow up, I will probably be a mess"
-Mary Karr's diary, age 11
Some praise the cherry for its beauty and fragrance, others honor it for its political tranquility, courage, and bridge to friendship, while many use cherries as a metaphor for suicide. However, Mary Karr manipulates the cherry into a symbol of death and rebirth, innocence, and sexuality. In Cherry, her 276-page memoir, teenage narrator Mary Karr alternates between first and second person narration with eloquence, wisdom, and witty humor to invite us into her personal coming of age story. Karr’s childhood was by no means desirable; however, she uses her storytelling talent, prose lyricism, and Texan dialect to engage readers in her unsugarcoated story.
Set in 1970’s America, Karr begins her story shortly before 7th grade. She discusses loneliness and how that contributes to her intellectual advancements; she effortlessly receives A’s in AP English and AP History. Her love for literature and poetry is perceptible through her numerous analogies to famous writings. She shows conversions between blushing at the thought of holding her dazzling crush’s hand and fantasizing over her older boyfriends and adopting a promiscuous lifestyle. She reveals her interest in experimentation by exploring drugs with her friends while encouraging her virtuous friend Meredith to accompany her. She morphs from innocent to rebellious through little triumphs of commonly defying school dress code and ditching class but also larger mistakes such as being arrested under multiple charges. The novel ends around the conclusion of her high school career leaving her abandoned by many of her friends and uncertain of the future.
Karr’s family’s influence in her upbringing is evident; she explores her low self-worth and disposition by continually reflecting upon her surroundings. She compares her body to her sister, Lecia’s, mature and attractive one and repeatedly comments on Lecia’s flirtatious mannerism and effortless accomplishments. Lecia does what she can to appear apart from her dysfunctional family, a characteristic Mary attempts to adapt. Karr shows steady transitions into independence when she stops sleeping with Lecia, even though she dearly misses her sister’s company. She edges on suicidal thoughts and attempts to kill herself through prescription drugs resulting in only a stomach ache and receiving her father’s comfort. The compassion she receives from her father is apparent not only through her actions in high school, but also through the rest of her life seen through her sympathetic writing style. Her sensitivity and maturity come from her mother who has recently returned from a mental hospital; due to her mother, Karr has become numb to the actuality of suicide after it had been tossed around as a norm countless times.
Karr splits Cherry into four key parts: Elementary’s End, Midway, Limbo, and High. She repeats the mantra “I was there to watch” at turning points in her life. The mantra can be discerned by the way she writes her memoir; we are here to watch her life and all the ways she transforms, though we do not do anything to modify or see it as anything less than its actuality and unchangeability.
Cherry is an essential read for adolescents because of its ability to stay brutally honest while remaining sincerely tender. As said in the San Francisco Chronicle, “Teenage girls might come away from it knowing that they’re not freaks, that mistakes aren’t fatal, and that good writing kisses just about everything better. And for teenage boys, reading Cherry would be like stealing the other team’s playbook”. Mary Karr comforts and helps the American youth feel accepted through their experimentation and growth by relating the common fears and triumphs to her own brutal childhood and teaching the value of self-forgiveness.
First of all, let me echo other reviewers in saying not to expect anything like [b:The Liars' Club|14241|The Liars' Club|Mary Karr|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1309210940s/14241.jpg|1269768]. Mary Karr is still an enormously gifted writer, but while The Liar's Club had its moments of joy interspersed with various traumas, Cherry is just plain dank. Mary's exploits as a child weren't hopeless -- she had a resiliance about her that assured the reader that she'd be all right, or some version thereof, in the end. The adolescent Mary descends deeper and deeper into a darkness that she manufactures for herself with the help of a pharmacy's worth of drugs and a heapin' helping of teen angst thrown in for good measure. I found it extremely interesting that Karr resorted to telling her story in second person in the last part, in which her relationship with drugs begins. I wondered to myself as I was reading whether she was using the second person narrative as a way of distancing herself from her high school self. In any case, the book is a much more difficult read than The Liar's Club, and I would definitely recommend that book before dipping your toes into this one. The reader emerges thoroughly saddened by Karr's own outright and between-the-lines admissions of her mistakes. I found her relationships with people especially dismaying -- but perhaps that was simply the way she chose to tell the story. The adolescent Karr is far from the precocious child of The Liar's Club. Her story is told from the bottom of an abyss -- I read an interview with Karr where she said that while writing Cherry, she would write for an hour and a half and then just collapse on the floor and fall asleep from exhaustion. I don't doubt it. A difficult yet rewarding book.