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Mummy's
Legs
by Kate Bingham
Simon & Schuster, 206 pages, $20
Stick
Figure: A Diary of My Former Self
by Lori Gottlieb Simon & Schuster, 222 pages, $22
The
Tiny One
by Eliza Minot Knopf, 258 pages, $22
Eliza
Minot's older sister, Susan, already fictionalized their
mother's demise in her far superior novel Monkeys.
Martin
Scorsese has optioned the film rights for Stick Figure:
A Diary of My Former Self.
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Mainstream literature usually explores the mysteries of
life through the pain of adults--or at least angst-ridden
teenagers. But publishing is a mercurial biz; there's a
constant push to find the next big thing. The coming-of-age
novel has been done to death. Boomer and Gen X memoirs spill
out of bookstores' discount bins.
So, surprise, surprise, the nation's literary body is now
covered in a rash of books told from a new perspective,
that of preteen girls. The precocious prepubescents in three
new books--all set in the 1970s--have more on their minds
than horses and first kisses. These little girls have big
problems.
In The Tiny One, 8-year-old Via Revere is so stunned
and confused by her mother's fatal car wreck, she decides
to re-create the day of the accident in her mind, moment
by moment, to find some logic in the event. Via lives a
privileged life in rural Massachusetts, attending private
school and spending summers on the Maine coast. Her large
family is normal and loving; her observations are sweet
and cute.
Author Eliza Minot does a decent job of following little
Via's rambling train of thought, yet the effect of living
in a little rich girl's head for 250 pages is stultifying.
Perhaps Minot's editor was so drawn into the 8-year-old
mind-set, he or she forgot how to use the delete button
on the computer.
Minot introduces the obligatory and predictable rites of
passage--Via sees her parents in a fight, fends off a creepy
male teacher and finds her dead dog. But the payoff at the
end, when Mum finally dies, is not nearly as satisfying
as it should be. It's a sad little book that should be at
least a three-hankie sobber. The pain in this novel comes
with the realization of all the time wasted reading it.
But preteen anguish is truly compelling and horrifying
in Stick Figure: A Diary of My Former Self. Lori
Gottlieb uncovered her childhood diaries when she was a
29-year-old Hollywood executive thinking about going to
medical school. Stick Figure chronicles 1978, Gottlieb's
11th year. Her Beverly Hills is a shallow battleground where
snotty little girls snipe at each other, mimicking their
mothers, who are overly concerned about their hair and the
size of their asses.
The miniature Gottlieb is as obsessive as any adult. Though
she's tightly focused on schoolwork and won't step on sidewalk
cracks, her diet is her main concern. She believes she's
growing huge and quits eating in order to get back down
to 60 pounds. Soon, she's forced into the hospital to be
treated for anorexia nervosa.
Gottlieb's overly precocious, wise-ass tone is hard to
take at first, but a less intelligent 11-year-old probably
wouldn't have the insight to notice her mother's veiled
criticisms or her father's emotional unavailability. Stick
Figure is a vivid glimpse into a young girl's warped
perceptions. It's funny and outrageous, yet steeped in the
sad truth about girls' poor self-esteem.
Though Gottlieb includes a brief afterword from her adult
perspective, neither The Tiny One nor Stick Figure
tells us how these preteens end up after their ovaries begin
to function. However, Kate Bingham's debut novel, Mummy's
Legs, offers a look at how a beleaguered 10-year-old
grows up in the wake of her manic-depressive mother.
In this nebulous story, Sarah must take care of Mum through
illicit love affairs, suicide attempts and drinking binges.
She seems to view her mother's dramatics as the price of
doing business in this world, until she is sent to stay
with relatives on a farm while Mum cools her heels in the
loony bin. There, Sarah enjoys a brief, much-needed dose
of normality.
This pointless novel offers a glimpse into Sarah's future,
where she seems to be in a good relationship with a solid
guy yet remains chained to manipulative Mum. Somehow, she
learned to be kind and generous in spite of the drama queen
who spawned her.
These three books have one factor in common: mothers who
somehow damage their daughters, either through overcriticism,
histrionics or accidental death. Ma-bashing is hardly new
in literature, but these books are more concerned with mother
probing. Though preteen girls are more attached to their
friends and the new 'N Sync CD than to their families, they
are still most influenced by their mothers. As these three
young authors enter their own childbearing years, they seem
to be reminding themselves--through their own 1970s prepubememories--of
the awesome power of Mommie Dearest.
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Willamette Week | originally
published April 12,
2000
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