How have I gone through life and missed writer Mary Carr, I wonder? I think I wasn’t supposed to find her until now. But boy, I am grateful that I did. I’m reading her third memoir, Lit, about her path to sobriety. Full of pain and gut-wrenching truth, but beautiful just the same.
I found an amazing interview with her here, in the Paris Review. As a teaser I’ll share this from the interview:
INTERVIEWER: What was your own conflict?
KARR: My own bitterness and cynicism had to be pried away for the light to get in. The fury that I thought protected me from harm actually sealed me off from joy. Also, I sensed I’d betrayed my father and our redneck background by living at Harvard with my ex-husband and his polo-playing family. That my mother had given me a great love of art, truth, books, conversation, and beauty, and I was too angry at her to feel gratitude. I had to start living with some modicum of wonder, a state of praise rather than blame. It’s a journey from complaint to praise.
It’s a long interview, but oh so worth the read.