One book reviewer states that as fact, so let’s take a look.
“There is no grail so holy as the truth of one’s own story. And to tell it so that others may find meaning, there requires self-awareness minus the safe distances of irony or sarcasm—as well as belief that one’s story is worthy of being told.”
I was reading an ordinary entry in the Sunday, February 8, New York Times Book Review section when I came across that paragraph. I had to smile. Has it become simply fact that “the truth of one’s own story” is so vastly important? This is what we memoir coaches have been telling clients all along, but I wasn’t aware that it had risen to become conventional wisdom. But there it was, stated by journalist Danyel Smith in a review of The Flower Bearers by Rachel Eliza Griffiths, who’s married to author Salman Rushdie.
Worthiness doubts
Let’s start with the easy part of that paragraph—the notion at the end that to be a memoir author you have to believe that your story is worthy of being told. It seems self-evident, but I really tried to consider whether you could write your story despite self-loathing or just a nagging doubt that anyone would want to read about your life.
I don’t see why not. You just write it anyway. You can think about the subject—yourself—as someone else. Pretend that you’re just discovering this person. Now is the book more interesting? Or look at it as an assignment: write about yourself in a somewhat flattering light. And, really, humility can work in your favor. If you’re all full of yourself, your memoir will reflect that. Braggy memoirs sit on shelves.
If you’re writing a memoir mostly for informational purposes—to leave it for grandchildren and later generations—then your life is interesting because it’s their heritage. It doesn’t have to be filled with exciting adventures, tear-jerking tragedies or great achievement. Your life is about the stock they came from, and they’ll appreciate it.
Then there’s the goal of writing your own book for yourself. That is good enough. It’s your life, and it’s not unusual to want to document it from your own perspective. You’ll hand it out to friends, maybe list it on Amazon, but you’re doing this to fulfill a goal. And whether your life is worthy of a read or not, the goal itself is worthy of pursuing.
To sell a memoir, you must have either a great story or great writing. You don’t need both. If you’re a very good writer, you can choose quirky stories from your ordinary life and still write a fantastic book. And if you’re not a good writer, but your story is truly compelling or you have a large following, a publisher might get you a ghostwriter or excellent editor.
Self-awareness, no irony or sarcasm
The reviewer who wrote the paragraph specifically says a memoir author must have self-awareness and not hide behind irony or sarcasm. I agree with that. You have to be aware of what motivated you to act as you did at every turn of your story. You must understand your own talents and shortcomings and how you acquired them. You should be generous in giving credit to parents or mentors or some luck for your achievements, and you must be simply honest, raw and without attitude about any harm that was done to you. Lead with your heart; don’t give into the temptation to be cute or clever while not taking enough accountability. Readers will respond in turn with their own hearts, appreciating that you’ve presented yourself as naked as a newborn.
I remember when two celebrity memoirs were released at the same time, in October 2023, thereby meeting the risky fate of being compared against each other. Reviewers praised Henry Winkler’s Being Henry: The Fonz…and Beyond as less self-conscious, more genuine than John Stamos’s If You Would Have Told Me: A Memoir. I didn’t read the Stamos effort, but I did read Winkler’s book, and it was so forthcoming, candid, bare.
Truth as holy grail
Now we get to the initial claim that there is no grail so holy as your truth about your own story. I don’t know; it seems hyperbolic to me. If you ask 100 people to finish that sentence—“There is no grail as holy as…”—I doubt that “the truth of one’s own story” will come to the mind of any of them.
But, look, I’m a memoir coach. I believe in “one’s own story” even if I stopped using “one’s” when I realized I wasn’t British. I believe in the personally told narrative of every single life. I enjoy good writing. Put that together and I suppose it’s a grail holy enough to earn the distinction.