The Importance of Being Remembered | New York Times Book Review - June 28, 1987

The Importance of Being Remembered - Susan Allen Toth

One of the scariest things about writing a memoir, whether a book or an essay, is the fact that someone you knew is going to read it.  They will recognize themselves.  They will either agree or disagree with your memories.  They might remember things differently.  They have their own takes on how things went down all those years ago.  They might feel nostalgia.  They might be angry.  Someone will read the memoir and they will know it is them that you are remembering, even if you change the names.

Susan Allen Toth writes in this essay that responses to her two memoirs cause her to fluctuate between her present self and her past.  Has she remembered the important things?  Has she written accurately and truthfully?

Her readers' responses are all rather personal, I thought.  They have a familiarity to them, such as a fan would have with a celebrity.  I think this is caused by the intimacy one undoubtedly feels with the author after reading the memoir.  Also, if you shared the same time and place with the author, if you knew her, then you would have no problem acting as if things could be picked up where they were left off all those years ago.

Mrs. Toth noticed that most of her correspondence was from readers who felt strongly about being remembered, about having their stories told.

When most people think of memoir, they believe that there must either be some event or some chronic problem that fills the past of the author.  Maybe that makes for bestsellers or juicy rounds on talk shows, but it  isn't a prerequisite for writing a memoir.

You could've led that mythical ordinary life, so what?  Write about it.  You don't need to worry about whether  anyone reads it, they will.  Who cares if some fools out their find your life boring?  Some people will relate.  We need to value our memories, our lives.  What better way than to write them down.  Will you find a publisher?  Does it matter?  Just the effort, the doing, is what matters.  You'll think of things you thought long forgotten.  You'll bring your wisdom to bear on that naive and innocent version of you.

Maybe you'll uncover something that was a critical life lesson.  Maybe you'll address those regrets.  The point is, even if you were not a pre-teen drug addict or a victim of abuse, you still have a store of stories about your life.  Write them down.  Leave that legacy.  Someone in the world will relate.  If you have children, they will appreciate it, as will your grandchildren and beyond.  You'll be adding your history to history.

Bill Roorbach has an excellent book for the tentative memoirist, Writing Life Stories.  I recommend it without reservation.