The Monday Book – The Many Lives of Mama Love: A Memoir of Lying, Stealing, Writing, and Healing by Lara Love Hardin

Guest review by Janelle Bailey, avid reader and always learning; sometimes substitute teaching, sometimes grandbabysitting, sometimes selling books

The Many Lives of Mama Love: A Memoir of Lying, Stealing, Writing, and Healing by Lara Love Hardin

The Many Lives of Mama Love: A Memoir of Lying, Stealing, Writing, and Healing by Lara Love Hardin

True story within…and confessions, as well, that had to be difficult to publicize. At least one member of our book club, which met recently to discuss this book, disliked the start of the book so much that she could not, would not read it through to the end and sent such word to our book club meeting, so troubled was she by the story of a woman who she saw as having wronged her children in this manner.

And yes, given the book’s subtitle and its chronological movement through these themes, getting through the “lying” and “stealing” portions of the book can be challenging. This is not easily an “unlikable” main character, nor a challenging or unreliable narrator. Given that this is Lara Love Hardin’s memoir, and she is telling her own story, this opening narrative had to be even tougher to write/confess/publicize, than it is to read it. And as a reader I did have similar feelings to my fellow book club member, initially, about the choices Hardin made: drug use and the ensuing horrible behaviors seemingly chosen over caring well or completely for her–their–children.

But I had to believe that since she’d also written the book and was telling her now published story, that I needed to keep reading through the “writing” and “healing” portions as well before I tried the book on the whole. Judging Hardin wholly and completely by what had to have been the most difficult part to publish and share seemed not fair. And I’d already purchased the book and selected it for book club, so I believed it worthy of the read.

Further, it is this difficult content and confession to bad parenting that make things challenging at the start. The writing, itself, and the storytelling, throughout, are of strong quality, due literary merit, even. This serves as testament to that MFA Hardin mentions early on and which she had previously earned. Additionally, I saw from the subtitle that the “writing” and “healing” portions of her memoir were yet to come.

I read the entire book in one day, traveling through the painful months and years of Lara Love Hardin’s storied life in just minutes to hours. Possibly in part because of that short duration of time and thinking spent in her space, and my reading style prompting me to live in it for the duration of my time with the book, I was better able to see through to the improved parts more quickly as well.

Hardin and her then husband were so caught up in their drug use that they had taken to stealing from others, both neighbors and strangers over time, to support their bad, bad habits. Their child together was in the worst spot, as each of them had ex-spouses with whom they shared custody for their others. Thankfully, when jail time for their crimes ensued, Hardin’s ex-husband and his wife took in Hardin’s son to be able to live with his brothers as well. That soothed some of the sharp edges of that part of the story.

From there we see inside the jail system–neither she nor her husband were sent to prison for a long haul–as they each spend months there, teaching us lots about what really goes on there and inside the walls. That also allowed us to learn how very difficult it is to ever get–let alone stay–out, once in, she and her husband not exactly on the same upward path toward recovery and quitting. Catch-22s and systematic challenges abound.

It is during this time of Hardin’s story that we not only learn of these difficulties from the inside but also discover where she gets her “Mama Love” name, using that ol’ MFA to help others write–and right–their own situations and stories among the good things she does while in and working her way out. She is most especially effective at helping incarcerated moms work toward reuniting with their children.

I need to stop telling you her–the–story, or I’ll take away the fun of all of the redeeming qualities of Hardin’s story and book, make it less meaningful for you to read and discover, experience it all yourself. That’s the point of reading a good book, right?

You may not, either, see the “Mama Love” goodness to Lara Love Hardin at her story’s start, but there’s a pretty good chance that your understanding of her and her plight may also grow into some forgiveness for her, too, for how hard she worked and for how much we can learn from her. And how much we may be able to do to help–rather than curtly judge or dismiss–someone working toward change when we meet them ourselves.

Come back next Monday for another book review!

The Monday Book – Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing by Matthew Perry

Guest review by Janelle Bailey, avid reader and always learning; sometimes substitute teaching, sometimes grandbabysitting, sometimes selling books

Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing by Matthew Perry

Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing by Matthew Perry

It is simply uncanny, the timing of my reading of most books and then the tentacled webs of connectivity to other incidents and events in either my own life and/or life in general and on the larger grand plane of existence, locally and more broadly. That I read this book just weeks ago, and got all of this insight into Matthew Perry–truly listening as he, himself, read the audiobook “to” me, and that he then died two days ago is…simply uncanny.

I truly appreciated the honesty and sincerity with which Matthew Perry told this, his, story, and today I am so much sadder for this unfortunate and final result for his life: death way, way, way too young: 54. It just so happens that Matthew Perry and I are the exact same age, he just a few months younger than I and now eternally so.

From here, my review of the book when I read it, no knowledge of what would come so soon and next for this dear old “Friend,” may he rest well and truly, ultimately, be at peace.

While I understand that these are addictions Perry suffered, I am still stunned by the excessive waste of money and rehabilitative care and privilege exuded by his many expensive actions and cannot help but feel like he threw away numerous opportunities over and over again; I know quite closely and well people who would give anything to be given such an extension of life and opportunity–and their health–for much, much less cost or requirement for change on their part.

Over time with these lengthy cats-and-Matthew-Perry-apparently-have-nine-or-so-lives, Groundhog Day-like stories of his returning to rehab only to continue to use, complain about the rules and refuse to follow them, ditch the program, etc., I grew even more weary of his constantly crass language and dismissive treatment of others.

I believe I listened generously to Perry’s story and understand that the core issues stem back to the “unaccompanied minor” status of his existence during his parents’ break-up and their individual abandonment of him. And I heard and understood his honest revelation of his sexual difficulties.

But the steady and gushing bragging–best word I can find–about nearly everything from his giving Chandler Bing his character, to changing the way that emphasis on lines occurred for him and many others from there, to his many cars (gosh, is the green Porsche even the same one as the just a bit later “forest green” Porsche?) and gorgeous views from multi-million dollar homes…just all took its toll on me by the end. A completely reckless–careless–waste, so much of it seemed.

Somewhere along the way (and a very long time ago in the lengthy, sordid, repetitive stories), my willingness to be sympathetic anymore or at all was lost completely. If, at the very end, he is expressing any apologies at all or requesting forgiveness, it is completely lost–for me–by all of the names he dropped and then immediately dragged through the mud, by the crass and constantly cursing language, and by having spent so much time detailing his innumerable refusals to allow anyone to help. He seems to have been a pretty big jerk and over and over again to many. I just can’t feel sorry for him, I am sorry to say.

Really the only thing I “learned” is that Perry’s dad was “the” Old Spice guy of my childhood tv commercials. I see the resemblance. Unfortunately, everything else I learned convinced me that Perry was and wasn’t everything and anything like his beloved and better understood Chandler Bing. That beloved “Friend” is now gone and replaced, for me, by this less lovable actor.

Life is–for many of us–far more fragile and precious than that Perry describes.
And money not falling from the trees or abundantly banked–in much greater excess than need–for lots of us.

I get that his point, ultimately, and which he stated over and over is that none of the things that should have made him happy did, but he spent soooooooo much time painting the extravagant pictures of all that he had–still has–and then so foolishly threw away that I really grew weary…annoyed, actually. The story had no redemptive conclusion for this reader…but now that I have written this, and then Perry passed and not so quietly this weekend…presents more pause.

Like so many others, I am quite sad about his passing. I will not be able to unhear him telling me his story myself…or be haunted by this juxtaposition of events: reading, well, listening to his audiobook in his own words and voice just weeks before he died.

Truly, rest well, Matthew Perry. Rest so peacefully well.

Come back next Monday for another book review!