The Meaning of Mariah Carey

 

Look, it's her book. It's her story. It's her life. But, as I read through Mariah Carey's autobiography, I kept coming back to one thought:

This is an unreliable narrator.

I'm a 90's girl at heart, so I love me some Mariah. Always Be My Baby should just become our national anthem. I didn't expect to read some great book of prose, but I am fascinated at how someone grows up to be someone like Mariah.

I think of her episode of Cribs, which is one the greatest ever. If you're not familiar, look it up. Several costume changes, she went on the Stairmaster in stilettos, she took a bath! Any woman who lives like that deserves to have her story told.

But, it doesn't mean you'll want to read it.

There's a lot here that's interesting, don't get me wrong. Mariah's childhood and family were a tragic mess. Her marriage to Tommy Mottola was even worse than you could imagine. And that brief romance with Derek Jeter was all my 90s dreams come true. But, the story is told in a haphazard way in which Mariah is responsible for nothing. Even Glitter was Tommy's fault. And she believes in her heart it was a missed opportunity at a star turn. (She was before her time, you guys.)

Look, she's a self-proclaimed famous diva and her storytelling reflects that. I just wish it could have been better told. The timelines were wonky and some of it was hard to follow. She could have spent more time describing her songwriting and collaboration process than recounting every fight she ever had with her mom.

If you're a Mariah fan like I am, do yourself a favor and just listen to her music instead. 

Better yet, enjoy this Mariah/ODB gem. 

The Cold Millions

 

There have been a lot of crappy things about 2020. 

I know what you're thinking: Thanks, Captain Obvious.

But, in this crappiest of crap years, I am warmed by one thing: a new favorite book by my favorite author that was better than I could have ever imagined.

This is my favorite book of Jess Walter's and my favorite book of this year. It's not just because it's set in the town in which I live, but that helps. Now, my drives to work take longer because I have to stop at all the sites in the book along the way.

That, for example, is the old Carnegie Library at the west end of downtown Spokane. It's not a library anymore, but it was in 1909 when this book was set. One of the characters, a lost teenager named Rye, finds solace here and access to worlds he'd otherwise never know.

The Cold Millions, like Jess's other books, is rich with character and writing and place. Spokane is a major character here, but not the city like we know it now. At this time in history, Spokane was buzzing. It was doubling in size every five years, criss-crossed by railroad tracks that carried people from all over the country. It was a town filled with laborers and performers, the rich and the poor. It was a postcard from this time in history (which Jess found at one of my favorite local shops) that inspired him to capture what life must have been like in our city back then.

Gig and Rye are brothers looking for work wherever they can find it. Living on a sleeping porch in Spokane's Little Italy, they find themselves swept up in the union movement of the day. It leads to conflict and imprisonment and the harsh reality that feels just as present today: the world is controlled by the rich and powerful living on a hill, not by the cold millions doing the real work in the valleys below. 

It's a story about the west, inequity, free speech, women's rights... so much of it rings true today. Jess could never have known when he started this book how relevant it would be at this moment, but when I drive down Stevens Street every day on my way home, I can almost feel the energy of the country's first free speech demonstrations which happened on those very corners. In as many ways as Spokane is different now, so many of the themes are the same.

That has a Christine Blasey Ford ring, doesn't it? Some things never change.

There are real Spokanites in this book. There are fictional characters, too. There are real places and real events and even my favorite old west town of Taft, Montana, once dubbed the Wickedest City in America. There is strength and power and despair and love and just perfection. There is ache and memory; the entire epilogue, I felt like someone was squeezing my chest. When I closed the book, I burst into tears. 

There are lines in this book that stopped me cold. "Spokane gave me the morbs," says one man who is called to the Lilac City to do a rich man's dirty work. There are gems like this buried through out, dropped like gold coins by one of the greatest American writers who happens to be a guy that lives not far from where I'm writing this. 

The best books make us change the way we see the world. This one changed the way I see the city in which I live. 

I can't imagine a more perfect book. It almost redeems 2020. Almost. 

Long Bright River

 

To call this book a "crime novel" would be shortchanging the story at its heart.

While it begins with a murder victim being found dead, the real story is one of family, poverty, addiction and the opioid crisis tearing apart so many families.

Kacey and Mickey are sisters who grow up in a tough part of Philadelphia. Early on, they lose their mother to an overdose and are raised by their grandmother, who is both grieving and resentful. Kacey follows her mother's unfortunate path to addiction, while Mickey becomes a cop who patrols the streets near where they grew up.

Mickey constantly worries about Kacey and has even had to bring her in from time to time. When women start showing up dead in the neighborhood, she makes her mission to find her sister, no matter the cost.

That would be an interesting story on its own. But, Moore layers in the complicated dynamics of family. The relationship between sisters is most obvious, but it's also about the relationship between Mickey and her grandmother and the rest of their family. It's also a relationship between mother and son, as Mickey tries desperately to give her son the stability she never had.

The book can be dark and a little depressing, but it has so much heart and honesty. There are enough twists and turns to keep the murder story interesting, while also exposing the even more frightening reality facing so many American families.

Why We Can't Sleep

 

-One doctor is quoted as saying "What happens to you in your forties, as a woman, will determine how long you live, will determine how happy you are for the next forty years."

That's a hell of a wakeup call who were born before the Thriller album but after disco. Or at least in the waning age of disco. It's just one of the realizations laid out in this book which I didn't know how badly I needed to read.

First of all, it feels weird to describe this stage of my life as "mid-life." Once I got past that, this book felt like visiting a therapist. It specifically describes this phase of life for those of us defined as "Generation X." The author describes some things women have felt for generation at this point in their lives, but also explains the unique challenges brought by the time in which we were born.

We're a generation that was born without the internet, but who use it with ease now. We watched the Challenger explode as cross-legged elementary school kids. We are the daughters of women who went back to work and were expected to "have it all" - and, we're now spending more time with our kids than our moms ever did, while also working full-time.

It felt like venting to a friend and having the friend share the same feelings right back, which would be great to do with actual friends if we weren't all so damn busy.

There was a line in this book that I should have written down, but that is seared in my memory. It was, essentially, how the world stops looking at women in their 40s. We're not desirable to men younger than us or men older than us. We're seen as moms and co-workers, not complicated or interesting sexual beings. We can resist or we can acquiesce; either way, the ship called Prime of Our Lives has most certainly sailed.

There is so much to worry about, so much to carry. But, this book reminded me that what I'm feeling has meaning and purpose and why. If you're of the age that you remember when Britney was on the Mickey Mouse Club and Shannen Doherty was everywhere, this book might be just what you need.