The Middle Place

The Middle Place by Kelly Corrigan
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

I hesitate to judge memoirs too harshly. After all it is someone's life, someone's truth, and who am I to say they should feel or behave differently? However, I would say that I don't think Kelly and I would be friends. She has gone through some some hard and remarkable struggles, certain ones that I haven't, but her certainty about her rightness in all things would definitely be a challenge to befriend. Her near worship of her father while being more critical of her mother did make me question why some of us women tend to do that to our parents--give our fathers more leeway than our mothers....I have been guilty of that a bit (hopefully not as bad as Kelly) and I see it in my own children, so I guess that was eye-opening. Still, it wasn't a memoir that I found particularly insightful, uplifting, or entertaining (sorry).

He defined me first, as parents do. Those early characterizations can become the shimmering self-image we embrace or the limited, stifling perception we rail against for a lifetime. In my case, he sees me as I would like to be seen. In fact, I’m not even sure what’s true about me, since I have always chosen to believe his version.

They(children)fabricate stories, Susan explains, because it’s easier to share space with something fiendish but defined than something shapeless, just there, in the dark

I started to think faith could hurt. Faith seemed okay for everyday, emotional stuff, like being more thoughtful or less irritable, but cancer? You can’t pray your way out of cancer. You need scanning technology, and a well-trained oncologist, and a skilled, conscientious surgeon. God’s not going to remind your local biopsy technician to check your tissue sample for HER2/ neu cells. Your priest can’t decide whether you should have your bladder removed surgically or try four months of radiation. Faith doesn’t go to the cellular level.

The way I see it, if you have four kids, you don’t really have to do anything else, ever. Three kids is a handful, but one that many people manage to hold. If you’re a mother of four, you definitely don’t have to have a career or volunteer for the school fund-raiser or even bring an appetizer to the dinner party. In fact, people give you a lot of credit for wearing both earrings and knowing how to spell chaos and antidepressant. Four kids gives you a pass for every forgotten birthday, overlooked appointment, and missing form. Plus, you can be late for everything the rest of your life and never return phone calls. Who’s gonna blame you? It’s like having nonthreatening cancer, forever.

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