reading in real life

lilacs & the best memoir of the year so far

Hey! You’re here. Thank you.

We’re eight days into May and I am more in love with and afraid of the world than ever, how about you?

A couple weeks ago my number one book influencer and friend,

Traci Thomas

, told me she had just read the best memoir of the year so far and I would especially love it. If you’ve been around here any time at all you know that we listen to Traci. If you are not listening to Traci on The Stacks Podcast, you are missing out and you should make that priority number one.

The book Traci recommended was Another Word for Love by Carvell Wallace.

Reader, Traci was right. This is a book of the year and, for me, a book of a lifetime.

I was lucky enough to have access to an early download of the audiobook version (this stunner comes out May 14th!), and it bowled me over.

I never feel entirely up to talking about books I love this much, but I really want you to read this one so I am going to give it a try. The memoir begins, like so many, with a retelling of the childhood moments that made Carvell Wallace who he is. The trauma and grief that Wallace experienced is almost unbearable to read. The impact of poverty, racism, violence, and white supremacy on his body and mind is impossible to overstate. Many memoirs interrogate this terrain with skill and unflinching attention. This, though, is where the comparison with so many other memoirs ends.

Wallace uses this storytelling as a launching off point to deliver a treatise on living and survival that is like nothing else I have ever read. It’s almost a manifesto except it’s never preachy or strident. It’s almost spiritual self-help except it’s never holier than thou.

Really, it’s just a book about how to love in this world and Lord we need it,

The closest comparison I can make is to Heavy by Kiese Laymon and that is the highest praise I can give a memoir.

Sometimes I don’t want to hear too much about a book I haven’t read yet, but know I will love, so I am not going to say more, except these two things -

This book is gorgeously, innately, indefatigably queer. Queer as in making room. Queer as in the hard work of joy. Queer as in unlocking the door.

There is a moment in the acknowledgements that I can’t stop thinking about. First, what a joy to have the acknowledgments included in the audiobook! They are often left out and I am an acknowledgments ho because I like gratitude and also I am nosy.

Anyway, in the acknowledments, Carvell Wallace writes,

“I would like to thank myself for surviving.”

And that’s it right there if you ask me. Have you thanked yourself for surviving today? Have you thanked someone else for surviving?

& if no one has said it, thank YOU for surviving. These days are hard and strange and I am afraid most of the time. Thank you for surviving and being here with me.

If you have just one more moment, let me tell you about the lilacs.

The other morning as I was taking Dunkin out in the yard Rebecca said, “make sure you smell the lilacs, they won’t be there for long.”

So while Dunkin was finding just the right spot to pee, I stuck my nose in these little purple miracles.

I’m not saying the lilacs solved all my problems, but they sure did make me feel alive.

And, of course, Rebecca is right. The lilacs will not last long. We didn’t plant them or grow them. We can’t control how long they are here. But they are here now and I am going to try my best to know them.

Dunkin and I meandered around the rest of our little yard looking for other trouble to get into and when I turned back around this is what I saw -

Rebecca brought Yaya out and lifted her up so she could smell the lilacs too.

Like the lilacs, Yaya won’t be with us forever. She is here now, and I vow to know her and love her as well as I possibly can.

Also, my wife? The greatest. I am so lucky it’s stupid.

This week, I hope you read a book that fires you up. I hope you thank yourself for still being here.

Last night over a hundred peaceful protesters were arrested just up the road from me at UMASS Amherst.

As my city’s Poet Laureate, Franny Choi, wrote on instagram:

“45,000 Kids Dead. You’re arresting kids instead.”

I am paying attention to that, too. I will not look away.

We keep each other safe. We keep each other here.

I love you.

Love,

Rosamond