Story du Jour/April 7
How Difficult
For years my mother said I was selfish, careless, irresponsible, etc. She was often annoyed. If I argued, she held her hands over her ears. She did what she could to change me but for years I did not change, or if I changed, I could not be sure I had, because a moment never came when my mother said, "You are no longer selfish, careless, irresponsible, etc." Now I'm the one who says to myself, "Why can't you think of others first, why don't you pay attention to what you're doing, why don't you remember what has to be done?" I am annoyed. I sympathize with my mother. How difficult I am! But I can't say this to her, because at the same time that I want to say it, I am also here on the phone coming between us, listening and prepared to defend myself.
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One of the things we learn in Davis is that we often are, even if we wish we were not, others' images of us. Not entirely or exclusively--and we can change the way we appear in others' eyes, we can insist upon new descriptions of who and what we are.
Davis has a great short story (I will try to find it!) which is just a list of all the ways she's been mis-addressed: "Lydia David," "Lynette Davis," "Postal Recipient"--etc. Parents are notorious for settling into one description of their children and hitting it over and over; children must negotiate against these descriptions, even (as here) if they must also, perhaps later in life, acknowledge them as apt or accurate. This is in a way like "the cremains"--somebody decides we're both going to use THIS name, THIS description.
As with "Letter to a Funeral Parlor," look for the story here. How might another writer handle this little conflict? It might not even BE a little conflict in a slightly different context.
To me, this is a story of growing up. The intersection of the themes of identity, those we choose and those we are given, and long lasting relationships, what changes and what remains, is at the core of the human journey of growing up. Over the course of the story, we can see the narrator maturing: in the beginning, like a child with minimal self-awareness, she can merely observe the actions of others, namely her mother, like in the first line when she says, “[My mother] was often annoyed.” Then, like an adolescent going through a period of great change and thus uncertainty, she writes with doubt: “...if I changed, I could not be sure I had…” Finally, the narrator shows the self-awareness of an adult by recognizing the impact of her own actions. Yet, growing up is not only about the ways in which we evolve, but also the patterns we retain, like the narrator’s inability to change her communication pattern with her mom.
ReplyDeleteI think this story could have been written by other authors with more drama. After all, the dichotomy between the seemingly unattainable person you want to be and accepting the person you are is not necessarily a small conflict. However, I like Davis’ almost passive version of this story. In one short paragraph, she manages to beautifully cover a lot of ground, from her relationship with her mother to her inner struggle with identity, in a way that is both personal and relatable.
The idea of what we can and cannot say to our mothers reminded me of the last paragraph from one of my favorite essays, “Tiny Beautiful Things” by Cheryl Strayed:
“One Christmas at the very beginning of your twenties when your mother gives you a warm coat that she saved for months to buy, don’t look at her skeptically after she tells you she thought the coat was perfect for you. Don’t hold it up and say it’s longer than you like your coats to be and too puffy and possibly even too warm. Your mother will be dead by spring. That coat will be the last gift she gave you. You will regret the small thing you didn’t say for the rest of your life.”
As always, I hope everyone is still safe and having a great week!
Cece, thank you for sharing that quote from the Strayed essay. I don't know the context, but that section does pair nicely with this story by Lydia Davis. I also agree with your breakdown of the lone paragraph—it is a story of growing up, and we see how much people internalize the impressions of those around them. "How Difficult" captures a kind of inescapable cycle: thinking we've changed only to stumble over something about ourselves that's still the same, or have it loudly pointed out to us by someone who's seen "versions" of us along the way.
ReplyDeletePersonally, this story makes me think more of my relationships with my sisters than with my mom. As much as my older (by just a couple years) sister and I are able to act as a team these days, a part of me feels the residue of ways she judged me when we were little. (Oh man, what marks does she feel from how I have criticized her over the years?) My other sister is almost six years younger than me, so she is still particularly...unforgiving in her personal attacks. That she and my older sister have picked up on some of the same things in me is a frustrating reminder of ways I haven't changed as we've all been growing up together.
Lydia Davis gives us all the essentials for the story she's telling. She writes us a story, but also leaves us enough spaces that some serious introspection can ensue. It's a special thing when a writer can have you looking outward and inward at the same time like that.
Hi everyone! I hope you are staying as healthy and happy as possible.
ReplyDeleteI was struck by Davis' honesty in this story, as many individuals are uncomfortable writing about their personal experiences, much less discord within a family. However, I think this type of narrative is incredibly valuable, as when solely idealized portrayals of families or relationships are presented in literature, the media, or via other mediums, people begin to internalize that their own strife is not "normal." The testy relationship Davis has with her mother is likely identifiable for a lot of people. I found the ordering of the following two sentences to be particularly powerful: "If I argued, she held her hands over her ears. She did what she could to change me." Many struggle with maintaining their relationship with their parents overtime, specifically surrounding the issues of identity. The direct link between the image of visibly expressing a lack of desire to listen in turn represents an inability to understand and empathize. When Davis states that her mother told her that she was "selfish, careless, irresponsible..." many would say that is cause for concern. In my opinion, this is a typical phase of a relationship in which the individuals grapple with finding a sense of harmony and mutual understanding. The catalog of adjectives is not only precise, but illustrates just how detrimental these seemingly tossed around words can be. While this may not be uncommon, it is clear that these misunderstandings left a deeply felt mark on an impressionable, perceptive mind. At the end of the vignette, when she states that she is "listening and prepared to defend myself" when on the phone with her mother, the reader is forced to visualize a charged relationship in which both parties anticipate conflict. While this is not something people aspire to, I was once given the adage which I believe still holds up: mothers and daughters will inevitably fight, but it is up to them both to work toward resolution as they move beyond the more challenging years. I think Davis' earnest reflection on these times in her life is not only a brave one, but a much-needed perspective for readers to see depicted.
See you on Zoom on Friday!