Are You My Mother? A Comic Drama

Wow, this book was frustrating. Under the guise of writing about her mother, Alison Bechdel mostly explored A) her own insecurity and B) pyschoanalysis. So much psychoanalysis. Mostly Winnicott. So, I mean, on the one hand, psychoanalysis is a widely debunked borderline pseudo-science. And on the other hand, it seems to have loaned Alison Bechdel a lot of insight. Maybe not so much personal growth in that she's still writing books “about her mother” about psychoanalysis, including transcribed passages of her life that she was explicitly told not to write down by her psychoanalysis (including transcribing that she's not supposed to be writing them down.) But I have a lot of insight into the inner life of Alison Bechdel now?

This memoir is harsh, honestly. Not really so much on Alison Bechdel's mother, who comes off feeling pretty distant for an ostensible focal point, but on Alison herself, who pulls no punches in depicting her insecurity, fear of commitment and transference to psychiatrists. It was pretty uncomfortable reading.

(Disclaimer: a close friend of mine really liked this book; another friend, I see now, gave it five stars. Both are intelligent people. So it's entirely possible that I'm just not smart enough to get it.)That said: ugh. This is basically a collection of Bechdel's Kindle Clippings, sentences she really REALLY likes from the works of an obscure psychoanalyst and Virginia Woolf and a few others, with annotations of why they are JUST SO AMAZING; toss in long tedious play-by-plays of her own psychotherapy sessions; add lots of her own dreams; sprinkle liberally with insecurities and neuroses, add just the bare minimum of Bechdel's beautiful art, and send it to a publisher.Bechdel is brilliant. Talented, intelligent, compassionate. Adorable, too, I'm sure (a recurring theme). [b:Fun Home 38990 Fun Home A Family Tragicomic Alison Bechdel https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327652831l/38990.SY75.jpg 911368] is poignant, touching, witty, wonderful. Insightful. But this one... is not her best work. It's tedious, unengaging.Virginia Woolf, Bechdel informs us, felt liberated of her mother after having written “To the Lighthouse”. I get the feeling Bechdel learned that and set off to liberate her own self. She very clearly needed to write this—and I earnestly hope it was successful, that she got what she needed. But I didn't need to read it, nor, I think, do you.

Hmm. I definitely appreciated this book–I almost always love painful honesty, and that's pretty much Alison Bechdel's jam. There's a lot of layers here, like there were in [b:Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic 38990 Fun Home A Family Tragicomic Alison Bechdel https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1327652831s/38990.jpg 911368], which I loved. I think..... hmm. Hm. A LOT of this book was rehashing Alison Bechdel's therapy sessions, which does make for an interesting confessional vibe, but which can also get kind of draggy? I had to read this in slow, thoughtful chunks. Worth the effort.

Alternate title: woman goes to therapy.  Repeated through each graphic memoir by this author, there is a separation from what she is confronting in her relationships by intersecting with analysis of other texts, this time psychoanalyst works and Virginia Woolf diary/memoirs. Maybe it helps ? The art, in the absence of colour and exuberance, is perhaps more fitting for a memoir by focusing on accuracy in reproducing true to life bodies, expressions, still lives of objects, even photographs.  I appreciate the unique structure of each section beginning with a recounted dream and analysis of it. What struck me most was the sublimation of self - how much of her mother got lost in the lives of her family (parents, husband, children), seeming to result in detachment, how it appears to have formed her unwillingness to embrace all aspects of her daughter's identity, to the extent that she cannot truly celebrate her as a woman or lesbian, and how much the author struggles to maintain healthy relationships and healthy mindset, in part (her father also plays a large role), as a result of this upbringing.  I am glad for the author that she seems to reach a place of forgiveness at the close of the book.

Marvelous and thought-provoking. I really enjoyed Fun Home and was worried this would be too much of a good thing, but it's an excellent complement to Bechdel's earlier memoir. There is Freud and Jung and psychoanalysis and Virginia Woolf and dreams and Adrienne Rich and Winnie-the-Pooh and writing and letters from her father to her mother and Sylvia Plath and Dr. Seuss and Stonehenge and professional envy and Anne Bradstreet and every good thing. She draws all these threads together into a stunning story of growth and discovery, weaving back and forth across time and therapists and girlfriends and bringing it all together in I don't even know what – something fabulous that hits home. It made me think a lot about my own childhood and my own relationship with my mother, which is nothing like Bechdel's and yet very similar.

Also: Maud Newton interviewed Alison Bechdel back in the spring; read it here.