The Memoir Revolution: Why Real Stories Resonate More Than Self-Help Hype
“I went to a bookstore and asked the saleswoman, ‘Where’s the self-help section?’ She said if she told me, it would defeat the purpose.”
― George Carlin
I’m on page 77 of a new Self-Help book I’d pre-ordered. I got bored. I swear I have read this particular message many times before.
Throughout this year, I haven’t completed one book in the Self-Help genre, apart from Oliver Burkeman’s excellent Four Thousand Weeks.
I know this genre has some great titles and ideas, but I’m struggling to read Self-Help lately. When I finally read something fresh, I feel overwhelmed that I must start adopting the new principle immediately.
I’ve been reading, writing and speaking about Self-Help for about ten years. My blog and following have been built on readers who, like me, want to develop themselves.
The Self-Help Paradox
However, there is an innate paradox within Self-Help. Its premise is that I am broken, and all the material I consume is supposed to teach me how to fix myself.
If that is the case, and I’m fixed, then why do I need to jump onto every seminar, listen to every podcast, and get my hands on the newest book? Why don’t I stop at that one illuminating lesson or book and instead veer towards becoming a self-help junkie?
Perhaps I’m driven more by fear of missing out and trying to sound like an expert in the field rather than wanting to use the material to change. It’s like I’m always awaiting that ultimate lesson, technique, or “satori” moment that will instantly change my life.
That creates an unreasonable expectation and some friction. I become anxious instead of applying the lessons I supposedly learned.
Finally, I’m resentful that I didn’t implement the latest self-help principle and become cynical about not doing so, which frustrates me.
Don’t get me wrong, self-help books, podcasts and seminars are an excellent place to start, but they lose their effect and diminish in value after a while.
Inspiration without consistent action becomes an exercise in futility.
For example, losing weight is not rocket science, yet there must be millions of books (many on the New York Times Best Seller list). Despite all this content, many people remain uninspired and fail to lose weight. Simply reading about the steps to success (in anything) doesn’t mean we will take them.
The Memoir Revolution
However, this all changes when the information we take in becomes charged with emotions or more personal; our odds of getting into action rise dramatically.
When we — as bloggers, writers, or speakers — share our personal experiences, we help others to relate to our material viscerally.
We become memoirists: “I’m telling you what I did. See if it helps or works for you.”
In sharing ourselves and our experiences through the craft of memoir, we replicate the age-old storytelling tradition. Here, emotionally compelling tales are handed down from generation to generation. These stories allow us to connect the dots and grasp the lessons that relate to us.
A memoir, as defined by Merriam-Webster dictionary, is “a narrative composed from personal experience.” It is also “an account of something noteworthy.” A memoir differs from an autobiography in that it usually covers one specific aspect of the writer’s life, while an autobiography focuses on the chronology of the writer’s entire life.
We can trace the origins of the memoir back to 371 A.D. when St. Augustine wrote his “Confessions.” In trying to understand the misdemeanours of his youth, he wrote honestly and explicitly. His vulnerability had an enormous impact on the history of Christianity. Through his words, multitudes of people realised that humans can be fallible but that we can always change our ways and seek redemption.
However, the memoir genre has exploded into our literary world in the last 50 years. It’s not so far-fetched to foresee it soon overtaking the self-help franchise in popularity.
The process of a memoir is itself significant; by unravelling their stories, memoirists give the reader the power to unravel their own. The reader may not have lived the exact precise details as the memoirist, but we all share common threads and themes.
For instance, in sharing how he or she became aware of past traumas and dealt with them, the memoirist gives hope to the reader. The memoirist tells the reader, “I’ve been through pain, but I’ve survived. There’s hope for you too.”
In reading the stories of our fellow human beings, we discover empathy for their lives. We see how they lived and understand why they reacted to specific circumstances in certain ways. The sharing of pain and the communal, “tribal” healing that follows binds us humans to one another in a distinctly positive way.
Famous Memoirs
The famous memoirist Tobias Wolff had a tough childhood. A lack of real parenting and support left a lasting imprint on his future self. However, in writing his memoir, This Boy’s Life, Wolff recalled the memories that defined who and what he had become and extinguished their paralysing effect on him by translating memory into words.
After reading his memoir, I understood why he decided to join the army (and many other things). It gave him the authority and self-possession he lacked. This decision ultimately led to his success as one of the best American writers.
In Out of Africa, Karen Blixen uses her pen name, Isak Dinesen, to write a memoir about her years as a farm owner in the Ngong foothills outside Nairobi, in what is now Kenya, East Africa. What I find most interesting about her story is that she seems less interested in facts, figures, dates, history, or politics and instead focuses on her relationship with a male-dominated colonial settlement in East Africa.
I saw a different Africa, probably a more authentic one, than the Africa I live in today. Her viewpoint expanded my perspective, even though it was written almost 100 years ago.
Recently, I read Laura McKowen’s fantastic memoir, We Are the Luckiest. She chronicles her struggles with alcohol addiction. Her voice is so real, her words so straightforward that I felt my heart cry, sing and dance throughout her journey.
True, I’ve never suffered from alcohol addiction or gone through the many horrors she has, but her take on intimacy taught me so much and inspired me to write the below excerpt in my journal:
On Intimacy
What intimacy? Not me. I can’t see myself discussing my fears and weaknesses with my friends. Can I surrender my tough man act to myself, let alone others? I think the most challenging part of intimacy means I’d risk loving. And that is the hardest thing any human can do. Intuitively, we get that when we love, our hearts expand and become larger, meaning that now our risk of pain is also larger.
Living like a robot without opening up means less pain. That’s why it’s so attractive to me. Why bother with intimacy? Who needs all the pain, grief and embarrassment in front of the world? Living while being seen in your worst, ugliest, and weakest moments is not part of how to live the good life. Is it?
And yet, and yet, it can be the most exquisite way to live when done well. To witness ourselves and others in our most human form is our only requirement to live life. We have been “granted all the love in the universe simply because we exist, not because we are good. Love was never ours to lose — we cannot lose it. It will never let us go .”
I’ve just finished my own memoir, and it will be coming out early next year. I know first-hand that when I wrote it honestly, I shared information I’ve owned — knowledge that has arisen from my life. I wrote about my trials, tribulations and many happy moments, too.
Enough of Ayn Rand’s Individualism. It’s tiring. Not for the Age of Aquarius — the time to find commonality across what it means to be human. We are all interconnected. Writers and readers. We need to dig into our own experience — and one another’s — to reconnect over and over again.
When we do (through reading and writing memoirs, for instance), we acknowledge our shared humanity. We give away parts of ourselves. We say, “I get you,” “I can see where you’re coming from” or, “I feel you.”
That’s why I love memoirs. That’s why I think the honest writing of good memoirists seduces more and more readers.
