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The Unspeakable: And Other Subjects of Discussion
Goodreads Choice Award
Nominee for Readers' Favorite Nonfiction (2015)Winner of the 2015 PEN Center USA Literary Award for Creative Nonfiction
"Daum is her generation's Joan Didion." —Nylon
Nearly fifteen years after her debut collection, My Misspent Youth, captured the ambitions and anxieties of a generation, Meghan Daum returns to the personal essay with The Unspeakable, a masterful collection of ten new works. Her old encounters with overdrawn bank accounts and oversized ambitions in the big city have given way to a new set of challenges. The first essay, "Matricide," opens without flinching:
People who weren't there like to say that my mother died at home surrounded by loving family. This is technically true, though it was just my brother and me and he was looking at Facebook and I was reading a profile of Hillary Clinton in the December 2009 issue of Vogue.
Elsewhere, she carefully weighs the decision to have children—"I simply felt no calling to be a parent. As a role, as my role, it felt inauthentic and inorganic"—and finds a more fulfilling path as a court-appointed advocate for foster children. In other essays, she skewers the marriage-industrial complex and recounts a harrowing near-death experience following a sudden illness. Throughout, Daum pushes back against the false sentimentality and shrink-wrapped platitudes that surround so much of contemporary American experience and considers the unspeakable thoughts many of us harbor—that we might not love our parents enough, that "life's pleasures" sometimes feel more like chores, that life's ultimate lesson may be that we often learn nothing.
But Daum also operates in a comic register. With perfect precision, she reveals the absurdities of the New Age search for the "Best Possible Experience," champions the merits of cream-of mushroom-soup casserole, and gleefully recounts a quintessential "only-in-L.A." story of playing charades at a famous person's home.
Combining the piercing insight of Joan Didion with humor reminiscent of Nora Ephron's, Daum dissects our culture's most dangerous illusions, blind spots, and sentimentalities while retaining her own joy and compassion. Through it all, she dramatizes the search for an authentic self in a world where achieving an identity is never simple and never complete.
"Daum is her generation's Joan Didion." —Nylon
Nearly fifteen years after her debut collection, My Misspent Youth, captured the ambitions and anxieties of a generation, Meghan Daum returns to the personal essay with The Unspeakable, a masterful collection of ten new works. Her old encounters with overdrawn bank accounts and oversized ambitions in the big city have given way to a new set of challenges. The first essay, "Matricide," opens without flinching:
People who weren't there like to say that my mother died at home surrounded by loving family. This is technically true, though it was just my brother and me and he was looking at Facebook and I was reading a profile of Hillary Clinton in the December 2009 issue of Vogue.
Elsewhere, she carefully weighs the decision to have children—"I simply felt no calling to be a parent. As a role, as my role, it felt inauthentic and inorganic"—and finds a more fulfilling path as a court-appointed advocate for foster children. In other essays, she skewers the marriage-industrial complex and recounts a harrowing near-death experience following a sudden illness. Throughout, Daum pushes back against the false sentimentality and shrink-wrapped platitudes that surround so much of contemporary American experience and considers the unspeakable thoughts many of us harbor—that we might not love our parents enough, that "life's pleasures" sometimes feel more like chores, that life's ultimate lesson may be that we often learn nothing.
But Daum also operates in a comic register. With perfect precision, she reveals the absurdities of the New Age search for the "Best Possible Experience," champions the merits of cream-of mushroom-soup casserole, and gleefully recounts a quintessential "only-in-L.A." story of playing charades at a famous person's home.
Combining the piercing insight of Joan Didion with humor reminiscent of Nora Ephron's, Daum dissects our culture's most dangerous illusions, blind spots, and sentimentalities while retaining her own joy and compassion. Through it all, she dramatizes the search for an authentic self in a world where achieving an identity is never simple and never complete.
256 pages, Hardcover
First published November 18, 2014
About the author
Meghan Daum
19 books418 followersMeghan Daum is the author of Life Would Be Perfect If I Lived In That House, a personal chronicle of real estate addiction and obsessive fascination with houses, as well as the novel The Quality of Life Report and the essay collection My Misspent Youth. Since 2005 she has written a weekly column for The Los Angeles Times, which appears on the op-ed page every Thursday. She has contributed to public radio's Morning Edition, Marketplace and This American Life and has written for numerous publications, including The New Yorker, Harper's, GQ, Vogue, Self, New York, Travel & Leisure, BlackBook, Harper's Bazaar, The Village Voice, and The New York Times Book Review.
Equal parts reporter, storyteller, and satirist, Meghan has inspired controversy over a range of topics, including social politics, class warfare and the semiotics of shag carpet. She has been widely praised in the press and elicits particular enthusiasm from Amazon.com customer reviewers, who have hailed her work as everything from "brilliant and outrageously funny" to "obnoxious, arrogant, rambling dribble," (sic). Meghan's work is included in dozens of college textbooks and anthologies, including The KGB Bar Reader, Bookmark Now: Writing in Unreaderly Times, and The New Gilded Age: The New Yorker Looks at the Culture of Affluence.
Born in California in 1970, Meghan was raised primarily on the east coast and is a graduate of Vassar College and the MFA writing program at Columbia University's School of the Arts. She spent several years in New York City before making her now-infamous move to Nebraska in 1999, where she continued to work as an essayist and journalist and wrote The Quality of Life Report. Meghan has taught at various institutions, including California Institute for the Arts, where she was a visiting artist in 2004 and taught graduate nonfiction writing. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, Alan Zarembo, and their sheepdog, Rex
Equal parts reporter, storyteller, and satirist, Meghan has inspired controversy over a range of topics, including social politics, class warfare and the semiotics of shag carpet. She has been widely praised in the press and elicits particular enthusiasm from Amazon.com customer reviewers, who have hailed her work as everything from "brilliant and outrageously funny" to "obnoxious, arrogant, rambling dribble," (sic). Meghan's work is included in dozens of college textbooks and anthologies, including The KGB Bar Reader, Bookmark Now: Writing in Unreaderly Times, and The New Gilded Age: The New Yorker Looks at the Culture of Affluence.
Born in California in 1970, Meghan was raised primarily on the east coast and is a graduate of Vassar College and the MFA writing program at Columbia University's School of the Arts. She spent several years in New York City before making her now-infamous move to Nebraska in 1999, where she continued to work as an essayist and journalist and wrote The Quality of Life Report. Meghan has taught at various institutions, including California Institute for the Arts, where she was a visiting artist in 2004 and taught graduate nonfiction writing. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, Alan Zarembo, and their sheepdog, Rex
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August 2, 2022
There are 4, and even 5, star essays in this collection, and they were an absolute revelation to read. Right out of the gate, "Matricide" is close to perfect. However, there is also a big ol 1 star-er right in the middle (see mid-book review below*) that angered, befuddled, and mystified me. And, so, I settle on a 3 star review not in the way I give most things 3 stars - "eh, I liked reading it, but can't say it was remarkable" - and instead with a frustrated shake of my head and a grumble. I'll seek out more of Daum, definitely, but also can't seem to shake the anxiety I felt when reading "Honorary Dyke." It feels uncool in this day and age to admit to being offended, and like it ends up seeming like a compliment to the author for their daring nature. But because it's nagging me so much, I will say it: the essay offended me. Whether it offended me as a queer person or as a similarly privileged white lady who wants to believe we can talk about our experiences with an ounce of awareness and originality, I'm still figuring out. My offense is not a testimony to Daum's daringness in this essay (although she is plenty daring elsewhere), but to her laziness in not thinking through this essay - and her own role - more critically. It was such a glaring weak spot in the book and such a disappointment and just exactly what I didn't want from this book. I feel a little bit heart broken about it.
* My review as of page 106 or so: ahhhh, Meaghan Daum why have you done this to me? Or, why didn't your editor stop you? Here I was, devouring the wonder that is your book, the precision and grandiosity and beauty of your sentences and churning mind - and then I hit "Honorary Dyke." When the essay stops short of being offensive, it's simply embarrassing. It doesn't reflect the same self awareness and begrudging maturity of the rest of the essays but, instead, seems plucked from the mind of the 21 year old college kid who is the main focus of the essay, and is completely tone deaf.
It's clear Daum thinks she's aware of her own position as a (regrettably!) straight lady, but her cliche observations about different types of lesbians, her casual gender essentialism, cool girl misogyny, privileged take on life as a series of joining whatever "teams" she wants, claiming of the word butch for herself (and her decisions about who else might qualify as such), and casual use of the word "trannies" comes across less as knowing irony, and more as oblivious self-indulgence.
I'm so freaking disappointed. I was so smitten with this book - so wise, so beautiful, so funny - and particularly loved that the author is in her 40s, and not the sort of 20 something that might write an ode to the dyke she's not - and this essay just....sigh, man. What a bummer.
* My review as of page 106 or so: ahhhh, Meaghan Daum why have you done this to me? Or, why didn't your editor stop you? Here I was, devouring the wonder that is your book, the precision and grandiosity and beauty of your sentences and churning mind - and then I hit "Honorary Dyke." When the essay stops short of being offensive, it's simply embarrassing. It doesn't reflect the same self awareness and begrudging maturity of the rest of the essays but, instead, seems plucked from the mind of the 21 year old college kid who is the main focus of the essay, and is completely tone deaf.
It's clear Daum thinks she's aware of her own position as a (regrettably!) straight lady, but her cliche observations about different types of lesbians, her casual gender essentialism, cool girl misogyny, privileged take on life as a series of joining whatever "teams" she wants, claiming of the word butch for herself (and her decisions about who else might qualify as such), and casual use of the word "trannies" comes across less as knowing irony, and more as oblivious self-indulgence.
I'm so freaking disappointed. I was so smitten with this book - so wise, so beautiful, so funny - and particularly loved that the author is in her 40s, and not the sort of 20 something that might write an ode to the dyke she's not - and this essay just....sigh, man. What a bummer.
January 8, 2015
I don't usually write book reviews, but elements of this book bothered me so much I had to say something.
There is a reason this book is titled Unspeakable-there are some things that just shouldn't be said. And I'm not referring to not feeling bereft at the death of your mother or not wanting children. My biggest complaint with this book was the essay entitled "Honorary Dykes." Daum says that during a period of her 20s she felt like she was so lesbianesque that she was an honorary lesbian, giving her the liberty to use the word dyke-an often derogatory term. She goes on to say she gave being a lesbian "the old college try." The most glaringly obvious fallacy here is that one does not wake up and decide to be a lesbian. It is a sexual orientation you are born with. Trying to be a lesbian if you are not is like a lesbian trying to be straight-it's not a choice that can be forced. Her assumption that you can just try it and see if it works is a huge problem and incorrect assumption that many 20 something straight girls have and it needs to stop being perpetuated. The second issue for me is her statement that she is an "honorary dyke." It feels like calling yourself an honorary Black person or an honorary Native American because you appreciate (or appropriate) their culture. She is not a lesbian, therefore she will never experience homophobia and other prejudices that come with actually being a lesbian. To call yourself an honorary member of a social group you are not a part of is insensitive and ignores the privilege you have of not having to deal with the severe oppression many group memberships have.
My other complaints have to deal with the essays "Not What It Used to Be" and "The Joni Mitchell Problem." In the first, she says she has "more in common with people 20 years older than her than with people seven years her junior." She goes on to talk about technology being the dividing factor between people younger than her. As a person born in the 1990s, I am tired of older adults complaining about technology. Yes, people spend too much time on the computer/watching TV/on the phone, etc., but the Baby Boomers and Gen Xers are not saints either. For all the harm technology has brought, it has been infinitely more helpful. In the wake of the trauma of the shooting of Michael Brown, Eric Garner, and countless other people of color by police brutality; technology and social media has helped social justice movements organize and mobilize. Just because you did not grow up with technology and/or understand it, does not mean it's not useful.
In "The Joni Mitchell Problem," Daum gives us a meta-music review of how nobody understands Joni Mitchell and how when she met Mitchell, she appreciated Daum's insights on her music. Reading this essay felt like talking to that pretentious guy/girl in high school who thinks their opinions are sent from some divine creature and therefore brilliant, insightful, and most of all-right. How does she know that she doesn't get Joni Mitchell and everyone else does? While a lot of people tend to misunderstand music, why does that matter if they enjoy it? If people want to see Joni Mitchell's songs as romantic, that's fine. We are all entitled to our opinions about the message we get from music, who are we to judge? As a former music snob, I found this essay just painful to read.
Overall, I liked her writing style-the sarcasm and humor mixed with reality, but the content was disappointing.
There is a reason this book is titled Unspeakable-there are some things that just shouldn't be said. And I'm not referring to not feeling bereft at the death of your mother or not wanting children. My biggest complaint with this book was the essay entitled "Honorary Dykes." Daum says that during a period of her 20s she felt like she was so lesbianesque that she was an honorary lesbian, giving her the liberty to use the word dyke-an often derogatory term. She goes on to say she gave being a lesbian "the old college try." The most glaringly obvious fallacy here is that one does not wake up and decide to be a lesbian. It is a sexual orientation you are born with. Trying to be a lesbian if you are not is like a lesbian trying to be straight-it's not a choice that can be forced. Her assumption that you can just try it and see if it works is a huge problem and incorrect assumption that many 20 something straight girls have and it needs to stop being perpetuated. The second issue for me is her statement that she is an "honorary dyke." It feels like calling yourself an honorary Black person or an honorary Native American because you appreciate (or appropriate) their culture. She is not a lesbian, therefore she will never experience homophobia and other prejudices that come with actually being a lesbian. To call yourself an honorary member of a social group you are not a part of is insensitive and ignores the privilege you have of not having to deal with the severe oppression many group memberships have.
My other complaints have to deal with the essays "Not What It Used to Be" and "The Joni Mitchell Problem." In the first, she says she has "more in common with people 20 years older than her than with people seven years her junior." She goes on to talk about technology being the dividing factor between people younger than her. As a person born in the 1990s, I am tired of older adults complaining about technology. Yes, people spend too much time on the computer/watching TV/on the phone, etc., but the Baby Boomers and Gen Xers are not saints either. For all the harm technology has brought, it has been infinitely more helpful. In the wake of the trauma of the shooting of Michael Brown, Eric Garner, and countless other people of color by police brutality; technology and social media has helped social justice movements organize and mobilize. Just because you did not grow up with technology and/or understand it, does not mean it's not useful.
In "The Joni Mitchell Problem," Daum gives us a meta-music review of how nobody understands Joni Mitchell and how when she met Mitchell, she appreciated Daum's insights on her music. Reading this essay felt like talking to that pretentious guy/girl in high school who thinks their opinions are sent from some divine creature and therefore brilliant, insightful, and most of all-right. How does she know that she doesn't get Joni Mitchell and everyone else does? While a lot of people tend to misunderstand music, why does that matter if they enjoy it? If people want to see Joni Mitchell's songs as romantic, that's fine. We are all entitled to our opinions about the message we get from music, who are we to judge? As a former music snob, I found this essay just painful to read.
Overall, I liked her writing style-the sarcasm and humor mixed with reality, but the content was disappointing.
March 13, 2015
Sometimes funny, always stylish, clever, and candid.
...Now that I am almost never the youngest person in any room.
But brutal, too.
...To this day, there is nothing I’ve ever been sorrier about than my inability to make my husband a father.
Meghan Daum writes so well in these personal essays! I was riveted. One of her essays Difference Maker made me ache. It was sobering and reasoned and I could not have looked away if I tried. THANK GOD for the moments of levity. I need to read My Misspent Youth: Essays because I somehow missed it when it was published back in 2001. I mean, the shame.
...Now that I am almost never the youngest person in any room.
But brutal, too.
...To this day, there is nothing I’ve ever been sorrier about than my inability to make my husband a father.
Meghan Daum writes so well in these personal essays! I was riveted. One of her essays Difference Maker made me ache. It was sobering and reasoned and I could not have looked away if I tried. THANK GOD for the moments of levity. I need to read My Misspent Youth: Essays because I somehow missed it when it was published back in 2001. I mean, the shame.
April 23, 2016
This book is appallingly bad. So bad I finished it and took a break from reading published books at all; so bad I hateread the last half, just to see how bad Daum could get.
She gets pretty damn bad. This is the book where the author describes herself as "biologically straight, culturally lesbian," a fascinating phrase constructed of four words that make sense individually but lose all meaning when stitched together this way. It's the book with an essay entitled "Honorary D*ke." It's the one where the author notes that, although she is a gentile, she celebrates Jewish holidays and uses Yiddish phrases. Basically, this book is hipster racism, hipster antisemitism, hipster homophobia, and hipster misogyny, all wrapped up in a tidy package of mediocre essays.
But they're good, we're supposed to think. Because she's SO EDGY! Look at her, saying the unspeakable to shed light on our deepest darkest thoughts! And maybe if you're the cultural equivalent of Wonder Bread, as Daum is, you really will find this deep and edgy and new. But it's all so, so tired -- her snarky comments about millennials, her detailed descriptions of straight-girl-flirting-with-lesbians-and-then-panicking, her use of every single human being she encounters, including the foster kids she's supposed to advocate for, as props in her life, her lack of empathy, her belief that she is Joni Mitchell's One True Fan.
It's just. It's really dull, is the thing. It's been done, it's been done better, and I could hit four of Daum with a rock from where I'm standing. I really didn't need to read a book to get in touch with her particular brand of punching-down, generic edginess, her particular brand of attraction to and terror of everything and everyone different from herself.
There is a funny story about Nicole Kidman in here, though. If you get a chance to pick up the book for free, maybe look for that? Otherwise, you'd be better off reading almost anything else.
She gets pretty damn bad. This is the book where the author describes herself as "biologically straight, culturally lesbian," a fascinating phrase constructed of four words that make sense individually but lose all meaning when stitched together this way. It's the book with an essay entitled "Honorary D*ke." It's the one where the author notes that, although she is a gentile, she celebrates Jewish holidays and uses Yiddish phrases. Basically, this book is hipster racism, hipster antisemitism, hipster homophobia, and hipster misogyny, all wrapped up in a tidy package of mediocre essays.
But they're good, we're supposed to think. Because she's SO EDGY! Look at her, saying the unspeakable to shed light on our deepest darkest thoughts! And maybe if you're the cultural equivalent of Wonder Bread, as Daum is, you really will find this deep and edgy and new. But it's all so, so tired -- her snarky comments about millennials, her detailed descriptions of straight-girl-flirting-with-lesbians-and-then-panicking, her use of every single human being she encounters, including the foster kids she's supposed to advocate for, as props in her life, her lack of empathy, her belief that she is Joni Mitchell's One True Fan.
It's just. It's really dull, is the thing. It's been done, it's been done better, and I could hit four of Daum with a rock from where I'm standing. I really didn't need to read a book to get in touch with her particular brand of punching-down, generic edginess, her particular brand of attraction to and terror of everything and everyone different from herself.
There is a funny story about Nicole Kidman in here, though. If you get a chance to pick up the book for free, maybe look for that? Otherwise, you'd be better off reading almost anything else.
April 1, 2017
Recommended by SarahK on Episode 072 of the Reading Envy Podcast, I had checked this out from the library in case I wanted to use it in Episode 082, where Scott and I only read books previous episodes had mentioned.
I didn't make it through this one in time but as I stare down various library due dates, I went back to this one finally.
Overall the essays are solid, from a very specific point of view of a woman just past 40. She is honest and writes engagingly. Reading them back to back pointed out a fair amount of repetition of several stories that she has used in multiple essays, and while I'm not sure they should have been edited out (many were published other places first), it felt a bit tedious here. Some of them have a bit too much name dropping for my tastes as well.
Comments on a few essays:
Matricide
This was a hard one to get through for me because it includes a parent with terminal cancer and miscarriage all in one! But the way she talks about what cancer is (and isn't) and what mothers are (and aren't), let's just say I could really identify with her sentiments and appreciated her willingness to share them.
Not What It Used To Be
This essay about growing up and becoming an adult was perfect because I'm at the exact age she describes.
In the same essay, Daum tackles not having children and working with underprivileged youth. She was able to articulate things I have not always been able to explain to people and at risk of spoiling the essay, the ending was perfect.
I couldn't read this without thinking of the scene in Love Actually where Emma Thompson's character explains loving Joni to her husband:
I didn't make it through this one in time but as I stare down various library due dates, I went back to this one finally.
Overall the essays are solid, from a very specific point of view of a woman just past 40. She is honest and writes engagingly. Reading them back to back pointed out a fair amount of repetition of several stories that she has used in multiple essays, and while I'm not sure they should have been edited out (many were published other places first), it felt a bit tedious here. Some of them have a bit too much name dropping for my tastes as well.
Comments on a few essays:
Matricide
This was a hard one to get through for me because it includes a parent with terminal cancer and miscarriage all in one! But the way she talks about what cancer is (and isn't) and what mothers are (and aren't), let's just say I could really identify with her sentiments and appreciated her willingness to share them.
Not What It Used To Be
This essay about growing up and becoming an adult was perfect because I'm at the exact age she describes.
"Most of us have unconscious disbeliefs about our lives, facts that we accept at face value but that still cause us to gasp just a little when they pass through our minds at certain angles."Difference Maker
In the same essay, Daum tackles not having children and working with underprivileged youth. She was able to articulate things I have not always been able to explain to people and at risk of spoiling the essay, the ending was perfect.
"Soon it would be summer... Then the spring would roll around again and we would still be right there, eating our fish and reading our magazines. OUr conversations and our sleep would remain uninterrupted. Our lives would remain our own. Whether that was fundamentally sad or fundamentally exquisite we'd probably never be sure. But who can be sure of such things? And what's so great about being sure, anyway?"The Joni Mitchell Problem
I couldn't read this without thinking of the scene in Love Actually where Emma Thompson's character explains loving Joni to her husband:
"I love her. And true love lasts a lifetime. Joni Mitchell is the woman who taught your cold English wife how to feel."Meghan Daum digs a lot deeper than that, and goes beyond the Blue album.
November 28, 2015
I loved this book! The Unspeakable: And Other Subjects of Discussion by Meghan Daum is a collection of essays in which the author shares her experiences as a writer and woman. Whether she's talking about being an honorary lesbian (an essay that I was surprised to discover myself identifying with at many points), living in California, mixing with celebrities at a party (invited by Nora Ephron, Daum was overwhelmed by Nicole Kidman's beauty and dissed by several celebrities I thought were known for their warmth!), why she doesn't have children (or want them), or being in a coma, Daum is never less than fascinating, often amusing, and at times (I think often) brilliant. I found myself wishing I could speak with her in person, or rather, listen to her in person since I don't know if I could keep up my end of a conversation! On the other hand, Daum has a curiosity about life and experience that takes the focus off her own brilliance and shifts it too the experience being explored. And although the experience is personal, the exploration of it is both intimate and detached. This may be why I never felt embarrassed by the intimacy of the sharing: there was no plea for my personal reaction just an honest sharing and analysis of the experience itself.
I wish I could convey how fascinating Daum's voice is, how exciting the intellect she brings to these essays. She talks candidly about her complicated relationship with her mother and the experience of her mother's death and her un-Hallmarky reactions and feelings. Daum has read the grief books and seems to wish she could share the experiences described where the dying suddenly exhibit great wisdom and a lovingness not otherwise apparent in the previous life. But, she seems to say, life is as it is and I feel what I feel, whether or not I wish it were different.
It's the honesty (and terrific writing) that makes these essays riveting. I didn't feel I had to be like the author to appreciate her sharing of very personal experience. But I felt like her sharp intelligence and simple courage in facing up to her life and experiences lent me a certain courage in examining my own experiences and feelings, a little freer from the expectations and judgments of society.
I hope I didn't make Daum's writing seem sanctimonious or pretentious. They are not. The writing is direct and straightforward and easy to access, although the contents are still with me, echoing and demanding my attention. This is a book I want to read again. And I want to run out and read everything else Daum has written.
I wish I could convey how fascinating Daum's voice is, how exciting the intellect she brings to these essays. She talks candidly about her complicated relationship with her mother and the experience of her mother's death and her un-Hallmarky reactions and feelings. Daum has read the grief books and seems to wish she could share the experiences described where the dying suddenly exhibit great wisdom and a lovingness not otherwise apparent in the previous life. But, she seems to say, life is as it is and I feel what I feel, whether or not I wish it were different.
It's the honesty (and terrific writing) that makes these essays riveting. I didn't feel I had to be like the author to appreciate her sharing of very personal experience. But I felt like her sharp intelligence and simple courage in facing up to her life and experiences lent me a certain courage in examining my own experiences and feelings, a little freer from the expectations and judgments of society.
I hope I didn't make Daum's writing seem sanctimonious or pretentious. They are not. The writing is direct and straightforward and easy to access, although the contents are still with me, echoing and demanding my attention. This is a book I want to read again. And I want to run out and read everything else Daum has written.
June 22, 2015
Things Meghan Daum likes: using homophobic slurs (because she once had a short haircut and is therefore butch but not really because she can't really get down with lesbians because ew gross but then again, they are so counterculture and awesome but then again, gross, women's colleges are the worst), admitting that she takes black kids to target and on outings so she can feel better about herself, letting us know that she and Joni Mitchell are bffs, and navel gazing.
She made some tasteless lesbian jokes earlier on and I rolled my eyes but pressed on--I was on a 6 hour train ride in Italy and needed something to read. But after the honorary dyke chapter? I can echo everyone else who has given this 1 star by saying, "um, no."
Honestly, I would have forgiven her if her story had been about an honest attempt at lesbian relationships in college and how embarrassing it can feel to try to experiment for the first time, but no. She writes about how she actively wanted lesbians to have crushes on her just ... For fun. As a gross and hairy women's college graduate I can tell you how much we "lesbians" really hate that shit.
After that chapter, I couldn't even pretend to give a shit about Joni Mitchell or her dog or offensive community service. It's gross.
She made some tasteless lesbian jokes earlier on and I rolled my eyes but pressed on--I was on a 6 hour train ride in Italy and needed something to read. But after the honorary dyke chapter? I can echo everyone else who has given this 1 star by saying, "um, no."
Honestly, I would have forgiven her if her story had been about an honest attempt at lesbian relationships in college and how embarrassing it can feel to try to experiment for the first time, but no. She writes about how she actively wanted lesbians to have crushes on her just ... For fun. As a gross and hairy women's college graduate I can tell you how much we "lesbians" really hate that shit.
After that chapter, I couldn't even pretend to give a shit about Joni Mitchell or her dog or offensive community service. It's gross.
October 10, 2015
One of my absolute favorite books of the year, and one of my favorite essay collections of all time. Meghan Daum is brilliant and on point in every way and I can't stop talking about her. There is an actual waiting list at the Graywolf office to borrow my copy--perfect excuse for me to buy several more copies, I think! Do yourself a favor and pick up UNSPEAKABLE, and then start working your way through Daum's backlist, too. You'll be so, so glad you did.
December 27, 2014
A few defensive disclaimers: much of the stuff in these essays is not really "unspeakable," at least not by lots of people I know. And the essay on being an "honorary dyke" is kind of problematic. (I love when writers make funny and sweeping generalizations about our species, but some of the ones in this essay just seemed so reductive and essentialist that I found myself offended on behalf of ladies who share my sexual orientation--and those who don't. Daum's estimation of herself in this essay reminded me just slightly of Ariel Levy's description of a female chauvinist pig, but without most of the misogyny.)
Those disclaimers aside, I love Meghan Daum. I think her writing is whip-smart at the level of the sentence and in what she chooses to talk about and what she tells us about those subjects. I also happen to agree with her about lots of things: death and marriage (mostly) and dogs and Joni Mitchell and Jonatha Brooke and the idiocy of saying that "everything happens for a reason." She is unsentimental and unsparing and mordant and cutting and genuinely funny. So while this collection of essays is not as perfect as my five-star rating makes it out to be, it's pretty damn close. I devoured the whole thing in a couple hours (which I am currently regretting).
Those disclaimers aside, I love Meghan Daum. I think her writing is whip-smart at the level of the sentence and in what she chooses to talk about and what she tells us about those subjects. I also happen to agree with her about lots of things: death and marriage (mostly) and dogs and Joni Mitchell and Jonatha Brooke and the idiocy of saying that "everything happens for a reason." She is unsentimental and unsparing and mordant and cutting and genuinely funny. So while this collection of essays is not as perfect as my five-star rating makes it out to be, it's pretty damn close. I devoured the whole thing in a couple hours (which I am currently regretting).
July 2, 2018
This is an integral part of my personal mythology and I'm sticking to it.This past year I've been working on this sort of half-baked babble-speak version of the intersection between personal and family mythology and, well, reality. When I read Meghan Daum's sentence above it was like a lightbulb went off because, damn, here's someone else who gets it. Whatever "it" is.
(p53)
This collection is comprised of ten essays of a variety of personal situations, starting with the death of her mother and ending with the author's own medically induced coma in 2010 during a particularly sudden and freakish bacterial infection ravaged her body. There's not a lot, it seems, that Daum won't share with her readers and that, alone, will make many readers uncomfortable. Is it common to admit that you don't feel much as you watch your ailing mother dying, and that afterwards you feel a sense of relief? Is it abnormal to care more about dogs than most people? (If so, I too am guilty.) How do people feel when a woman admits that she does not like to cook and will not cook? Still in the 21st century people (in my experience) balk at that admission.
Most controversial, it seems, is the essay entitled "Honorary Dyke" which begins:
There was a period in my life, roughly between the ages of thirty-two and thirty-five, when pretty much anyone who saw me would have assumed I was a lesbian.She goes on to discuss how she is, what she calls, an honorary dyke - a woman who has entertained the idea of having relations with other women, but mostly admitting to having a fascination with women slightly older than herself through most of her love, but that also admitting she would never be able to act upon her interest in them.
(p91)
But the essay, like much of her writing, is almost tongue-in-cheek, even in some of her sweeping generalizations and awful stereotypes. I read it as she knew she sounds ridiculous and she's making fun of herself for it. I can see how it can rub readers the wrong way, and I'm not in any position to defend Daum considering I don't know her and am not a lesbian myself, so it's not my place to say if Daum's essay is or is not offensive. Except for the honorary title she has given herself for this essay, much else of what she discussed was not unfamiliar to me. I too get fascinated with people, even other women, and I want to know everything about them... buuuuut I don't want to actually know them. Perhaps that makes me uncool too.
Daum writes with an honesty that I feel most writers struggle with. Occasionally it comes across as a bit uncomfortable, such as in "Honorary Dyke", but other times it's refreshing because, shit, I'm not alone in my desire not to have children! She writes about her experiences (past and present) in an often humorous manner, making her seem like an accessible author, someone I might want to shoot the shit with if I ever met her in person, or was forced to play charades with her. Since I just turned 40, her reflections on life and being middle-aged spoke to me a stupid amount more than I would have liked, but that's how it goes.
If I died now, I'd die young. Everything else, I'm doing middle-aged.I recently read her essay "Difference Maker" in The Best American Essays, 2015 ed by Ariel Levy, and it was in this collection too. It is, in my opinion, not as good as the other essays in this collection - rather, it was the one that I was unable to make a connection with, though maybe that says more about my inability to be a difference maker than anything else.
(p83, "Not What It Used to Be")
The Goodreads page for this book calls Meghan Daum this generation's Joan Didion. I love Didion, and this is really my first experience with Daum, so the jury is still out on that one. But Daum does have the same biting honesty that I have seen in Didion's writing, so maybe there's something to that. She looks at pop culture and what is happening in the world with some distance while also recognizing how and when these things impact her own life. Or when her own life impacts what is going on around her.
I mostly liked this. I look forward to reading more from Daum. Her name has come up once or twice in other books about writing essays that I've read in the past six months to a year, so now it's nice to be able to put her work to her name.
It would be about craving silence while also wanting to hear everything. It would be about wanting to be alone and yet wanting to be in love. It would be about one of life's most reliable disappointments, which is that your audience, no matter how small, is always bigger than those who actually understand what you're saying.
(p166, "The Joni Mitchell Problem")
April 14, 2016
I really struggled over whether to give this three or four stars, but ultimately I went with the higher rating because when Daum embraces her theme she shines. And mostly I wanted to give it three stars for two pieces: the one about how cool Joni Mitchell is (don't care) and how amazing it was to meet her (still don't care) and how can you believe I lost her phone number and address?! (sorry, I drifted off there. Oh, right, still don't care.) and the following essay which was about her dog (all the eye rolls). Those aside—and yes I understand that writing about one's musical heroes (and pets) is perfectly legitimate, but that doesn't make it any less of a turn-off for me—the ideas in The Unspeakable were generally strong, approaching brave.
I picked this up after reading Rebecca Solnit's The Faraway Nearby hoping for more of the same. Sadly, Daum is no Solnit, which is not to say she's not a skilled essayist in her own right. Her real strength lies in her ability to cut through the schmaltz. With a couple of exceptions (see above), Daum never settles for the sentimental, and even in those weaker pieces she's capable of pulling out some smart observations. In the dog one she says something to the effect of losing a pet hurts more than losing a loved human person, and she backs it up. That's the kind of thing I wanted from this book. I wanted the "unspeakable," the unvarnished truth. The final essay, the one about her nearly dying from a rare bacterial infection, is an excellent example of this kind of thing. You expect some kind of lesson, some kind of building out of the mythos of passing, but Daum delivers just the opposite. For me, she says, in that instance, dying would've been easy, as simple as flipping a light switch. What's more, the experience didn't necessarily lend gravitas to those big ticket parts of life (family, friends, etc.), nor did they undercut the importance we place on the "unimportant" things cluttering our life. The event was merely that, an event. I appreciate this world view and the candor Daum brings to it. I just wish she went further and more often to that territory.
Now that I've read Solnit and Daum, I'm going to round out my female essayists trio by finally reading Slouching Toward Bethlehem. Stay tuned for my thoughts on this classic Didion text.
If you liked this, make sure to follow me on Goodreads for more reviews!
I picked this up after reading Rebecca Solnit's The Faraway Nearby hoping for more of the same. Sadly, Daum is no Solnit, which is not to say she's not a skilled essayist in her own right. Her real strength lies in her ability to cut through the schmaltz. With a couple of exceptions (see above), Daum never settles for the sentimental, and even in those weaker pieces she's capable of pulling out some smart observations. In the dog one she says something to the effect of losing a pet hurts more than losing a loved human person, and she backs it up. That's the kind of thing I wanted from this book. I wanted the "unspeakable," the unvarnished truth. The final essay, the one about her nearly dying from a rare bacterial infection, is an excellent example of this kind of thing. You expect some kind of lesson, some kind of building out of the mythos of passing, but Daum delivers just the opposite. For me, she says, in that instance, dying would've been easy, as simple as flipping a light switch. What's more, the experience didn't necessarily lend gravitas to those big ticket parts of life (family, friends, etc.), nor did they undercut the importance we place on the "unimportant" things cluttering our life. The event was merely that, an event. I appreciate this world view and the candor Daum brings to it. I just wish she went further and more often to that territory.
Now that I've read Solnit and Daum, I'm going to round out my female essayists trio by finally reading Slouching Toward Bethlehem. Stay tuned for my thoughts on this classic Didion text.
If you liked this, make sure to follow me on Goodreads for more reviews!
November 11, 2014
Daum explores a lot of dark places in her own mind and heart but the essays always seem to end on an optimistic note. It's so subtle you don't feel like she's forcing things into some predetermined worldview-- you just come away with the feeling that you've spent time with someone who has reckoned with her demons and weaknesses but still has a hopeful, open heart. The first half of the book is a lot stronger and more incisive than the second half but the whole thing is so very smart and so very pleasantly idiosyncratic.
November 29, 2014
Meghan Daum is my spirit animal.
January 5, 2015
There's so much we don't discuss, and that's what Meghan Daum wants to talk about: she wasn't patient as she watched her mother die; she actually likes LA; she doesn't want children of her own; she used to affect lesbian style, although she is not gay; she doesn't like to cook.
I respect Daum's impulse to be honest about things that she could just as well hide. But for me the discussion, at least in these essays, is boring. Maybe that's why we don't discuss it.
I respect Daum's impulse to be honest about things that she could just as well hide. But for me the discussion, at least in these essays, is boring. Maybe that's why we don't discuss it.
March 31, 2018
[3.7] The first essay, "Matricide" is so phenomenally good and brave that it is hard to follow. The other essays are mostly just fine - honest and witty with a strong voice - but their impact was dimmed by my hope for another like the first.
March 26, 2015
From essay to essay, I kept feeling like I might just share a brain with Meghan Daum. For better or worse, I feel terribly similar to her. From the thinly confessed vanity to the mistrust of our ability to mother to our deep desire for lesbians to like us to our general mediocre feelings about food to our overweening adoration for dogs, we exist on the same wavelength. In many of these essays, I kept mentally saying, “YES, exactly, that’s exactly how it is. This is the way the world is in my mind, too.” I think “Matricide” and “Difference Maker” were the strongest, but I was naturally very moved by her piece on dogs. Overall, a robust collection from a talented writer, and I look forward to following her continued career, but with a sidelong glance, always with that undertone of a wariness that stems from excessive likeness.
December 17, 2014
I related to many of Meghan Daum's essays and there was some genuinely lovely writing in the book. I'm teetering between a 3/5 and a 4/5 because despite devouring this book in a matter of days, something about it, maybe Daum's coolness and distance, kept me a bit removed from everything. I didn't really connect with the material in any kind of emotional or lasting way, though I enjoyed reading it.
The essay about being a fake lesbian was weak and filled with stereotypes. It just stood out as a turd that someone should have had the sense to edit out. Apart from that, this was a smart collection.
The essay about being a fake lesbian was weak and filled with stereotypes. It just stood out as a turd that someone should have had the sense to edit out. Apart from that, this was a smart collection.
December 6, 2023
no…..no
thought this was going to be a parent grief book. instead found it was a whiny self-portrait of a person who thinks and has accepted the fact that they are a bad person.
honestly i loved several ideas in this book; there were a few thoughts and moments that really resonated with me. but this person’s anxiety and indecision only made me feel worse about myself and my life! no thanks.
thought this was going to be a parent grief book. instead found it was a whiny self-portrait of a person who thinks and has accepted the fact that they are a bad person.
honestly i loved several ideas in this book; there were a few thoughts and moments that really resonated with me. but this person’s anxiety and indecision only made me feel worse about myself and my life! no thanks.
December 29, 2014
Some time after college I read an essay in the New Yorker that so resonated with me, that I actually carried it around for a while and pushed it into people’s faces. It seemed like if they just read it, they would know me -- really know me -- better than if they’d flipped through my photo album, critiqued my CDs or listened to me go on and on and on about myself. It was by Meghan Daum, then a young writer who had moved to New York City after college and was living the life she envisioned for herself -- while sliding deeper and deeper into debt. I’d long had a subscription to the New Yorker, one of my professors in college insisted, but this was the first time I’d read something from the magazine, well, in its entirety.
I was riveted.
It was accessible, honest and just the right amount of funny. Meghan Daum wasn’t me. I was living in my hometown in a shitty apartment complex near Target that I, a non-swimmer, had picked because it had a pool. I was a part-time sportswriter and the editorial assistant behind a non-profit’s quarterly newsletter. My debt came from opting for an expensive college that looked a lot like my high school, unresolved dealings with Columbia House and the ease with which I collected parking tickets. It was further from NYC than geography would indicate. But there was something about the piece -- the compatibility of our bad ideas, the voice -- that seemed like alternate-universe me. It was the life I would have had if, maybe, I’d been on an airplane before I was 19 or if I hadn’t lived in constant fear of missing curfew. It wasn’t just some sort of lifestyle envy, I just really felt like this could have been me or at least a close friend.
Her first book of essays, “My Misspent Youth,” hip-checked a bunch of old white men and blue hairs and remains one of my Top 5 Favorite Books of All Time. In the past decade plus she’s written a piece of not-quite fiction about a woman who leaves NYC, wanders west and starts a new life in Nebraska. The romantic lead is played by a man in flannel and, honestly, it’s really not that great. Daum returned to non-fiction, her forte, with a book about her Los Angeles house hunt. It’s an unlikely topic for an entire book. I have to believe it didn’t land in a lot of TBR piles, which is frankly a shame. It’s great.
This is all just to say that I’ll always read Meghan Daum, but I never expected to get side-swiped like I did that first time. Her latest essay collection, “Unspeakable and Other Subjects of Discussion” is this perfect decade-plus follow-up to “My Misspent Youth.” Where the first book had an entire essay on the shittiness of carpeting, this one opens with the death of Daum’s mother and the nonevent of her final breath. Daum is still super authentic, super honest and super funny -- but her topics are a bit weightier. Death (her mother’s and her own near-death experience), not your mommy blogger’s miscarriage, meeting her idol Joni Mitchell (and then having it translate poorly in the pages of the Los Angeles Times). It’s fantastic. It’s like that time that Jay McInerney wrote a sequel to “Brightness Falls” like 12 years later and then aged his characters the appropriate amount of years.
You always expect your favorite writers to knock your socks off -- and sometimes they do -- but this was beyond. Anyway, this is probably my favorite thing I read in 2014.
I was riveted.
It was accessible, honest and just the right amount of funny. Meghan Daum wasn’t me. I was living in my hometown in a shitty apartment complex near Target that I, a non-swimmer, had picked because it had a pool. I was a part-time sportswriter and the editorial assistant behind a non-profit’s quarterly newsletter. My debt came from opting for an expensive college that looked a lot like my high school, unresolved dealings with Columbia House and the ease with which I collected parking tickets. It was further from NYC than geography would indicate. But there was something about the piece -- the compatibility of our bad ideas, the voice -- that seemed like alternate-universe me. It was the life I would have had if, maybe, I’d been on an airplane before I was 19 or if I hadn’t lived in constant fear of missing curfew. It wasn’t just some sort of lifestyle envy, I just really felt like this could have been me or at least a close friend.
Her first book of essays, “My Misspent Youth,” hip-checked a bunch of old white men and blue hairs and remains one of my Top 5 Favorite Books of All Time. In the past decade plus she’s written a piece of not-quite fiction about a woman who leaves NYC, wanders west and starts a new life in Nebraska. The romantic lead is played by a man in flannel and, honestly, it’s really not that great. Daum returned to non-fiction, her forte, with a book about her Los Angeles house hunt. It’s an unlikely topic for an entire book. I have to believe it didn’t land in a lot of TBR piles, which is frankly a shame. It’s great.
This is all just to say that I’ll always read Meghan Daum, but I never expected to get side-swiped like I did that first time. Her latest essay collection, “Unspeakable and Other Subjects of Discussion” is this perfect decade-plus follow-up to “My Misspent Youth.” Where the first book had an entire essay on the shittiness of carpeting, this one opens with the death of Daum’s mother and the nonevent of her final breath. Daum is still super authentic, super honest and super funny -- but her topics are a bit weightier. Death (her mother’s and her own near-death experience), not your mommy blogger’s miscarriage, meeting her idol Joni Mitchell (and then having it translate poorly in the pages of the Los Angeles Times). It’s fantastic. It’s like that time that Jay McInerney wrote a sequel to “Brightness Falls” like 12 years later and then aged his characters the appropriate amount of years.
You always expect your favorite writers to knock your socks off -- and sometimes they do -- but this was beyond. Anyway, this is probably my favorite thing I read in 2014.
December 15, 2014
A very readable collection of essays, the best of which ("Matricide," "Difference Maker," "The Joni Mitchell Problem") are genuinely illuminating and thought-provoking. And the dog-lover in me connected with "The Dog Exception." But I don't think Daum's points of view (not wanting children, seeking contentment over happiness, etc.) are quite as taboo and risqué as she believes they are, and taken one after the other, I did grow a bit tired of the defensive tone. That said: great cover, plus it got me to dig out my copy of Court and Spark for a couple overdue spins.
August 5, 2016
The most honest thing I can say about this book, aside from the fact that I loved every single page of it, was that its premise and its tone and its execution all reminded me of why I wanted to write about myself unfiltered and share that writing with as many people as possible. It may even end up having inspired me to take this practice up again. The unspeakable things in our lives are so often the only things actually worth talking about, are so often the things that make us.
March 10, 2022
This collection of slice-of-life essays runs the gamut from the most serious topics imaginable to critiques of pop culture and celebrity stories. Like the author promises, she writes in a confessional, straightforward tone about difficult life events--and readers will likely see themselves in some of her stories. As with any collection, some of the topics interested me more than others.
February 19, 2015
"The Unspeakable and Other Subjects of Discussion" authored by Meghan Daum features 10 genuine revealing essays on subject matters ranging from health, diet/food, her personal relationships, family, pets, celebrity and more. Daum examines her guilt over not feeling the way she is "supposed" too, especially in regards to her mothers passing. She discloses "unflattering" things about herself that some of her readers might find "alarming and depressing" and most certainly controversial.
The first essay "Matricide" is the finest, longest and most compelling. Daum recalls her grandmother as "stubborn, self-centered and illogical" she died at age 91. Daum, and her mother, felt the grandmother was intellectually disabled. At 45 years of age, Daum's mother, a high school teacher, reinvented herself; changed her dress and style, separated from Meghan's father. Daum recalled her mother being "an outline of a pen and ink drawing with nothing colored in." Daum's father seemed awkward and misplaced in their lives, her parents never divorced; there was undoubtably more to the story then revealed. The women of this family did not seem to understand or appreciate each other in any fashion. Daum seemed profoundly disappointed and unforgiving of her mother, she was unable to accept her. This likely lead to the odd detachment and disconnection she described at her mothers passing from gallbladder cancer. This was a very sad piece, and harsh on the maternal heart, though exceptionally articulated and written.
"Honorary Dyke" was a fascinating look at how Daum decided to look, act and reinvent herself in a (butch) lesbian form/look. I haven't heard much of a straight woman deliberately doing this, and it isn't surprising that the essay might offend some readers.
In "Difference Maker" Daum shared her experience with being a big sister of two teen girls in the "Big Sisters" program, and a court appointed advocate for a foster child. The boy seemed more interested in shopping at Target and spending his (unappreciated) gift cards then anything else. Daum never seemed to connect with the kids she worked with in any meaningful way, as she discussed her thoughts of not wanting children. It was noble of Daum to work with these kids.
"The Joni Mitchell Problem" recalls her meeting and interviewing Mitchell in a restaurant. Daum, a huge fan, could barely contain her awe/thrill as Mitchell discussed her life and music, and agreed to read Daum's novel giving her personal address/phone number. Another celebrity essay: "Invisible City" Daum was invited to Nora Ephron's (rented) house while she and her husband were in L.A. working on a production. Ephron was both a friend and mentor of Daum's, she pointed out that Ephron was also a friend/mentor to possibly hundreds of other female writers.
In her other essays Daum discusses her non-interest in being a "Foodie" and cooking. The last essay Daum recalls her near death (coma)of nearly a week when she contracted murine typhus. Most people just get flu symptoms for a few days, doctors were amazed she recovered, evangelical christians would claim it was miraculous. Forms of sickness and suffering are just part of humanity and not some "ruthless injustice". After coming so close to death, some may feel a change, transformation, perhaps a greater appreciation for life. Daum reflected: "I am not a better person, I am the same person." I agree.
The first essay "Matricide" is the finest, longest and most compelling. Daum recalls her grandmother as "stubborn, self-centered and illogical" she died at age 91. Daum, and her mother, felt the grandmother was intellectually disabled. At 45 years of age, Daum's mother, a high school teacher, reinvented herself; changed her dress and style, separated from Meghan's father. Daum recalled her mother being "an outline of a pen and ink drawing with nothing colored in." Daum's father seemed awkward and misplaced in their lives, her parents never divorced; there was undoubtably more to the story then revealed. The women of this family did not seem to understand or appreciate each other in any fashion. Daum seemed profoundly disappointed and unforgiving of her mother, she was unable to accept her. This likely lead to the odd detachment and disconnection she described at her mothers passing from gallbladder cancer. This was a very sad piece, and harsh on the maternal heart, though exceptionally articulated and written.
"Honorary Dyke" was a fascinating look at how Daum decided to look, act and reinvent herself in a (butch) lesbian form/look. I haven't heard much of a straight woman deliberately doing this, and it isn't surprising that the essay might offend some readers.
In "Difference Maker" Daum shared her experience with being a big sister of two teen girls in the "Big Sisters" program, and a court appointed advocate for a foster child. The boy seemed more interested in shopping at Target and spending his (unappreciated) gift cards then anything else. Daum never seemed to connect with the kids she worked with in any meaningful way, as she discussed her thoughts of not wanting children. It was noble of Daum to work with these kids.
"The Joni Mitchell Problem" recalls her meeting and interviewing Mitchell in a restaurant. Daum, a huge fan, could barely contain her awe/thrill as Mitchell discussed her life and music, and agreed to read Daum's novel giving her personal address/phone number. Another celebrity essay: "Invisible City" Daum was invited to Nora Ephron's (rented) house while she and her husband were in L.A. working on a production. Ephron was both a friend and mentor of Daum's, she pointed out that Ephron was also a friend/mentor to possibly hundreds of other female writers.
In her other essays Daum discusses her non-interest in being a "Foodie" and cooking. The last essay Daum recalls her near death (coma)of nearly a week when she contracted murine typhus. Most people just get flu symptoms for a few days, doctors were amazed she recovered, evangelical christians would claim it was miraculous. Forms of sickness and suffering are just part of humanity and not some "ruthless injustice". After coming so close to death, some may feel a change, transformation, perhaps a greater appreciation for life. Daum reflected: "I am not a better person, I am the same person." I agree.
July 15, 2018
Vďaka vydavateľstvu Inaque ďalší literárny objav pre mňa. Súbor desiatich intímnych (autobiografických) esejí (ak sa vo veku 40 rokov autorky dá o autobiografii vôbec hovoriť). Najsilnejšia je hneď prvá esej ("Matkovražda"), kde autorka skúma svoje pocity počas umierania matky, onkologickej pacientky, a objavuje v sebe silnú dávku cynických pocitov (s ktorými sa často, ak ich v sebe nájdeme, verejne nechválime). [Esej mi pripomenula novelku aj "Príliš ľahká smrť" Simone de Beauvoir, tá ale bola menej o dcére ako o matke]. Esej "Už to nie je to, čo bývalo" sa okrajovo dotýka problematiky americkej strednej vrstvy rôznych období, čo mi pripomenulo naopak knihu "Hillbilly Elegy" od J. D. Vanceho [tá sa mi v rozpore so všeobecným hodnotením nepáčila a esej v tejto knihe vypovedá o probléme možno aj plastickejšie]. Vážny, až bolestivo úprimný je text, v ktorom Meghan vyvsetľuje svoje rozhodnutie(?) nemať deti … Všetky eseje sa dobre čítajú, najmenej som autorke veril v eseji "Čestná lesba", v ktorej v sebe skúma (o. i.) svoju orientáciu.
"Skutočná feministka vychádza z lesbického vedomia, či už spáva so ženami, alebo nie."
Inými slovami: "Nemusíte chodiť na prijímanie, aby ste verili."
"Skutočná feministka vychádza z lesbického vedomia, či už spáva so ženami, alebo nie."
Inými slovami: "Nemusíte chodiť na prijímanie, aby ste verili."
December 11, 2014
I am not a raving fan of this collection of critically-acclaimed essays (and yes, I do usually enjoy other essay books). "The Unspeakable" refers to those thoughts and feelings that are so taboo, you normally keep them to yourself. She says that as a society we are basically too cheerful; talking suffering up as something to make you stronger, not simply to be endured. I can agree with that on some levels, and I also enjoyed her candor. However, her stories were so devoid of emotion and character that they seem like the joyless retelling of another person's life- not her own. She obviously has a lot of mother issues, but in her essays she comes off as phony as she perceives her mother to be. As someone with my fair share of problems with my own mother (and mine go a lot deeper than just finding her self-centered), I like to think that I would not treat her death with the level of callousness displayed in this book. She comes off immature, and honestly I felt sad for her. Use your valuable reading time elsewhere.
April 26, 2015
From the chapter "The Dog Exception" (which was, for me, very painful to read):
" What do we yearn for more than knowledge of what our dog is thinking --- specifically,, what he thinks of us?"
"Maybe only death is more unknown. Maybe the only knowledge more prized than a glimpse inside the mind of another living thing is a glimpse inside the end of life itself. And maybe that's because pets are, in a way, living embodiments of death. They guarantee us nothing other than the near certainty that they will leave us well before we leave them. They are ticking bombs that lick our faces. They are prescheduled heartbreak. They leave us no choice but to dread the Rainbow Bridge while secretly hoping it really exists. Our love for our pets is what separates us from the animals. Our love for animals is what makes us human. Which I guess is another way of saying it makes us both totally pathetic and exceedingly blessed."
" What do we yearn for more than knowledge of what our dog is thinking --- specifically,, what he thinks of us?"
"Maybe only death is more unknown. Maybe the only knowledge more prized than a glimpse inside the mind of another living thing is a glimpse inside the end of life itself. And maybe that's because pets are, in a way, living embodiments of death. They guarantee us nothing other than the near certainty that they will leave us well before we leave them. They are ticking bombs that lick our faces. They are prescheduled heartbreak. They leave us no choice but to dread the Rainbow Bridge while secretly hoping it really exists. Our love for our pets is what separates us from the animals. Our love for animals is what makes us human. Which I guess is another way of saying it makes us both totally pathetic and exceedingly blessed."
January 24, 2018
Though this is a good collection of personal essays I can't now recollect what made me so effusive when I read it in December 2014. Daum is articulate, insightful, and funny sometimes, but I rarely felt a sense of profundity in her stories - perhaps because I listened to her read it in her own voice (that would be a drawback of an audiobook). I re-read it because I'd forgotten what her dire illness had been (murine typhus contracted from a flea bite), and to hear her best essay about her mother's death.
March 23, 2015
This is the kind of book where I've heard others talk about the unlikeable narrator (who is the author, since these are first person essays) and I read it and think, "uh oh, if this person is unlikeable, everybody hates me."
February 7, 2017
The Unspeakable falls into that category of book that I do not trust myself to rate because I find Daum's take on the world so utterly relate-able. It is humbling to find out that (what you considered) your particular brand of antisentimentalism is more likely the result of your culturo-historical context than of your own brilliant particularity. Funny, sharp & occasionally tender; recommended especially to what Daum calls "phantom dykes," the hetero-women who resist pop-culture's idea of the "feminine," and instead venture to forge their own "authentic" identities. I don't exactly know what authenticity means to Daum, but it seems close to Maggie Nelson's "sodomitic mother," i.e. a woman who always exceeds/overflows her societally structured roles.
April 10, 2023
Myslím si, že v roku 2023 sú ľudia čoraz viac otvorení a odvážnejší hovoriť o kontroverzných a tabu témach.
Meghan má zaujímavý, pestrý život, skvelú kariéru, hobby, zážitky. Rozhodla sa nemať deti, vydať sa pred štyridsiatkou a to nezapadá do perfektnej škatuľky niektorých ľudí. Autorka je svojská, otvorená. Rozpráva o vzťahoch, o jej rodine a detstve. Ponúkne vám nahliadnuť do jej intímnej duše.
Zatiaľ jedna z najlepších kníh, ktoré som tento rok prečítala a určite ju budem odporúčať ďalej.
Meghan má zaujímavý, pestrý život, skvelú kariéru, hobby, zážitky. Rozhodla sa nemať deti, vydať sa pred štyridsiatkou a to nezapadá do perfektnej škatuľky niektorých ľudí. Autorka je svojská, otvorená. Rozpráva o vzťahoch, o jej rodine a detstve. Ponúkne vám nahliadnuť do jej intímnej duše.
Zatiaľ jedna z najlepších kníh, ktoré som tento rok prečítala a určite ju budem odporúčať ďalej.
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