Sunday, November 14, 2010

The Imagined Beauty of a Life I Haven't Had

As one of the co-directors of the 2010 Creative Nonfiction Conference, I thought I was prepared for everything that might come up during the conference. The little bumps and gliches that happen no matter how well you prepare for a gathering of over 100 emerging writers and faculty from all over the country. But it's not the unforseen blips that have shaken me this weekend. No, the thing I didn't see coming was tonight's reading at Off Square Books by one of our faculty, the memoir and fiction writer, Robert Goolrick.

I had never heard of Robert Goolrick before this weekend, but when I learned that he had written both a memoir and a novel, I was interested. I introduced Robert and the others who were on the panel at our 4:15 session this afternoon, and when he spoke, something in his voice resonated with me.

Tonight at Off Square Books, he read from his memoir, The End of the World As We Know It, and I wept during much of the reading. Goolrick was molested by his father at a young age, and his memoir describes in the most powerful, dark, poetic prose I've ever read on the subject, the ongoing affects on the souls of those whose persons are violated in this way:

"If you don't receive love from the ones who are meant to love you, you will never stop looking for it, like an amputee who never stops missing his leg, like the ex-smoker who wants a cigarette after lunch fifteen years later. It sounds trite. It's true.

"You will look for it in objects that you buy without want. You will look for it in faces you do not desire. You will look for it in expensive hotel rooms, in the careful attentiveness of the men and women who change the sheets every day, who bring you pots of tea and thinly sliced lemon and treat you with false deference....You will look for it in shopgirls and the kind of sad and splendid men who sell you clothing You will look for it And you will never find it. You will not find a trace."


At this point I was making loud enough noises with my weeping that a few people around me reached out with tissues and hugs, and my friend, Kathy, asked, "Are you all right?'

Of course I'm not all right.

And then Goolrick reads the part about why he wrote and published the memoir:

"I tell it for the fathers The priests. The football coaches.... I tell it because there is an ache in my heart for the imagined beauty of a life I haven't had, from which I have been locked out, and it never goes away."


At the end of the reading, Goolrick asked the packed house if there were any questions. You could have heard a pin drop. We just applauded, and filed out, quietly.

Down the street at the reception, we shared drinks and delicious food in the beautiful surroundings of an art gallery. I spoke with Robert Goolrick about my own experience and about the way his words resonated with me. He signed his books that I had purchased at the book store, including his novel, the New York Times best seller, A Reliable Wife. He looked me in the face, and then gave me a hug.

I can barely feel my legs beneath me.

5 comments:

c.a. said...

Holy crap! WOW. I can relate and he is right. Absolutely right. I'm glad (but saddened at the same time) that someone else has explained it so well. If I could only gain the courage to write my story.

Heather said...

There is something about him, isn't there? His voice and his appearance are so distinguished. The perfect image of the handsome male writer-figure. You can see him having a drink with the classic greats of past eras.

Unknown said...

he is a man with class. Loved the reading, and I felt that, as I listened to him read last night, that it was a moment I would never forget.

Darrelyn Saloom said...

It is a moment I will never forget. Even if my brain disintegrates, his words will continue to resonate in every cell of my body and soul.

I had read Goolrick's memoir, and he was one of the main reasons I attended the conference. To meet him was a highlight in my life. I just never imagined the enormous impact he would have on me.

Thank you Susan for helping to put on such an awe-inspiring event.

Louise said...

Human dignity personified is how I would describe Robert Goolrick. I was not familiar with his work before the conference either, but will never forget him now. And no matter how many people came up and told him they were honored to be able to be there for that moment, he always said, "the honor is entirely mine," and you could tell he really, really meant it.