I recently finished a memoir, read by the author as an audiobook. It was a really striking portrayal of growing up as a mixed-race child in America in the ’70s, with violence, poverty, and uncertainty.
The narrator was the youngest of three, and can barely remember a time when her parents were together. Their relationship was volatile, and they had divorced by the time she could remember – leaving her with some resentment of her older brother and sister, who had got to experience something close to a happy family. In turn, they resented the narrator – not least because of her paler skin. Though they had the same parents, the narrator was lighter skinned than her siblings – and could often ‘pass’ as white, or perhaps thought to be Latino. This meant she dodged some of the racism that her siblings experienced – though certainly got her fair share too.
She recounts one of the first times that she remembers her race being an issue – taking a white schoolfriend to visit her Black dad. The schoolfriend had only known the narrator’s white mother before – and when the door to the apartment building was opened by a Black man, started crying and screaming and refused to go in. The narrator, a young girl at the time, was confused and hurt – not least by seeing the hurt on her father’s face.
Sometimes the pain she faced came from within the family too. There are extraordinary, vividly written scenes where she relates her sister – whose life had somehow derailed so that she was addicted to drugs and was selling her body – trying to pimp her out when she was only fourteen. Luckily someone the narrator knew happened to stumble across the scene, saving her from who knows what. And her brother became increasingly violent, so that the narrator never felt safe at home. Sometimes her mother would have to call the police, and the narrator would have the terror of a Black brother being at the mercy of cops. All she dreamed of was a time of safety and love at Christmas, a day that seemed more than any other to mark the difference between her family and a perfect one. It never came.
Perhaps a third or a half of the autobiography consists of this examination of childhood. It is revealing, painful and so well written. You long for her to get somewhere safe where she can begin to live properly. And her career does start to take off with incredible speed – her hard work and some luck making her more successful than she could imagine. She charts every moment that led there, so it’s hard to remember she is only in her late teens when it all begins to fall into place – albeit against the backdrop of the legacy of that childhood.
But things don’t fall into a happy ever after. She finds herself in a controlling marriage – richer than she ever imagined, but without any freedom. Her husband won’t let her see anyone or decide her own time. There are cameras in every room of the house. She is followed by security wherever she goes. Her husband is never physically abusive, but she is subjected to emotional and control abuse for years.
She does manage to get out, and the second half of the autobiography is much more about her career. After this, you probably do need to have an active interest in her work, otherwise the details are not very captivating – but the first half of the book is an extraordinary insight, whether or not you care about her career. And the problem is that this will probably be largely overlooked by people who’ll see the name of the author and decide the book isn’t for them. Which is why I’ve waited until the final line of this review to tell you that the autobiography is The Meaning of Mariah Carey by Mariah Carey.
Oh you are so right, Simon. I would never choose this book to read knowing who it is by. You are very clever to structure your review in this way! Your last line was brilliant. And the book sounds pretty good too.
Thanks Kim! I was wondering how to write it so people wouldn’t stop reading at the title, and thought this would be an interesting way to go about it!
Well done for the way you constructed this Simon, I did guess the author before the end but only just.
Thanks Peter!
Well, how fascinating Simon. You’re spot on – I don’t like Carey’s music particularly so I have no interest in reading her book and would have dismissed it instantly, particularly as I’ve often felt a little uncomfortable about the way she seems to want to project herself as something she isn’t (if that’s clear). Having read your review, I can understand that more….
I am a fan, but had only picked up bits about her life through her lyrics – had no idea about the scope of what she’d faced. I suspect she had a ghost writer, or at least help, but it’s worked really well.
What a great review of a book and how clever (and telling) to reveal the author’s name at the end.
thanks Sue!
This is a clever idea to draw us in when the name might not have done. However, at a time when life is so depressing, I’m still not drawn in. Not at the moment. I’m in need of quite a lot of Feel Good.
That was a brilliant idea, not to divulge the book and author till the end. Even though I am or at least was a fan, snobbishly, I probably would not have thought to pick up the book, but now I’ve put it on hold at the library. Thanks!
Clever review. I hope she thanks her ghost in the acknowledgements – it sounds like a good book, not one that they wouldn’t want to be associated with. I probably would read this, given your review, as long as that was in place (I work with ghostwriters so have a professional interest in that side!).
Her name is even on the cover! I had to google that because of listening to the audiobook, though
That’s marvellous!
Clever post. I won’t be reading this, but won’t dismiss her so readily either.
Ooooft! Simon! This is hands-down the best review I’ve read of The Meaning Of Mariah Carey. You absolutely nailed it. Well done!