When I bought Mary Tabor's, (Re)Making Love: A Sex After Sixty Story, I had certain expectations about the book, and I was not disappointed. But I got more -- much more -- than I expected. I discovered that this memoir had a punch to it and transcended its own subject. It has subtle levels of complexity that I'm still discovering as I reread it.
There's no doubt that this is indeed the story of a woman in her sixties suddenly cut loose from her moorings, and her sometimes tragic, sometimes funny, road to finding love and herself again. The book is interspersed with literary references and some unlikely things (hint: has to do with cooking). It's also richly entertaining. Mary tells her story courageously and with breathtaking candor, and a surface reading of the book will be very enjoyable and rewarding.
But a deeper reading of the book -- beyond the plot -- will yield more, where you will discover themes and insights that Mary did not always consciously intend to reveal. This, though, is the stuff of great literature and writing, where the greatest insights are often gleaned and discerned by the reader who dares to plumb the psyche of the writer. It is through this that we internalize her experiences, recognizing and discovering ourselves, not just for how we have responded to life's crises, but how we might. There are cautionary tales here (e.g., Internet dating) that may just influence some readers on how not to react in a crisis.
Daisy Hickman, of the SunnyRoomStudio blog, interviewed Mary last October and characterized (Re)Making Love as a "living memoir." This is not as obvious as it seems. Mary began her book as a blog, writing about events as they unfurled and whirled. In the epilogue in her book, she writes that her daughter and son-in-law suggested that "...I write about my journey while I lived it. They said 'Blog,' while I wept, and I did." Thus, it is indeed a living memoir, full of uncensored, raw emotions and the stumbles and falls during her journey.
Yet, it's still more than that. Mary's exquisite writing skill infuses her memoir with poetic qualities. If you approach it this way, it will enhance your reading experience.
The book begins at the end-- the end of her marriage. In Chapter One, "I Need to Live Alone," -- the roundelay of her memoir -- Mary lays it out in stark simplicity: "I had been married twenty-one years when D. [her husband] announced, 'I need to live alone.' Oh so Greta Garbo. There was absolutely no noise." Announced; just like that.
From there Mary takes us on her journey, reaching back to her childhood, her losses of family, her gaining of family, her courtship with D. and the aftermath of the Announcement.
Thus, this is a book that I took in portions so that I could absorb more. In one particularly intimate and poignant chapter, "Deceptive Cadence," Mary skillfully weaves in Shubert's Opus 90, No. 3, in G Flat, which has much to do with "D." The three short pages of the chapter stopped me flat in my tracks. I had to read it again, but first downloaded the piece, and then played it while I read it. I was deeply moved-- more than I expected. I suggest the same for other readers; the results are palpable. I learned later that Mary wrote the chapter in cadence to the piece.
While Mary became unmoored, she did not become unhinged. She made mistakes and sometimes reckless decisions with the best of intentions: (Re)making love and getting off that awful island of Lost. She attributes her not completely losing it not to herself, but to her metaphoric passport. In the chapter, "The Last Place You Look," she writes:
"Here's how I think of my passport: On the front is a picture of my father. My picture lies under his and under my mother's. Remembering from where I've come has helped. My father's love, my childhood with them lay inside that passport to my destination."
And her children and their families helped too by keeping her under close watch, oftentimes helplessly as they learned of some of her missteps (essentially always with men), but their entreaties sometimes fell on deaf ears. Mary channeled the teenager within.
But while Mary is taken advantage of and sometimes mistreated in this book, she's no victim, nor ever invokes that role. She knows what she's doing and the risks she's taking. And she takes action when it's necessary. One particularly delicious instance is when a suitor, m.r.s., a widower "still married" as Mary soon learns, dumps her (in an email, of course) after a briefly promising start. He writes that he feels "badly" about doing this. A badly chosen word, "badly," to use with a professional writer. Her parting shot is searing. No spoilers here. Read it in the chapter, "I'm Cooked."
The book transcends itself because a deep reading of it reveals lessons and insights that affects all of us, regardless of age or gender. I bought copies for my two adult sons, as I wanted them to get their own unique experiences out of it.
As one of Mary's readers wrote of (Re)Making Love, "(Mary's) experiences and the way she brings them to us remind us why we bother to read in the first place..." At the end of a video interview posted on her website, Mary says so modestly of (Re)Making Love, "I hope it's worth your time." It is; it is. Her courageous -- and funny, insightful, thought-provoking, shocking and soothing --memoir is so well worth our time.
In closing, it's notable that Mary quotes Nietzsche often, and in Chapter 10, "Bliss," she informs us that Nietzsche uses the term "bliss" 26 times in Thus Spoke Zarathustra. (No, she had not found it then.) Nietzsche also used the term "joy" many times (from the German "lust," not in the common English usage, but rather as an active, participative joy). In Nietzsche's book is the famous poem "Zarathustra's Roundelay," where joy is used very hopefully:
O man, take care!
What does the deep midnight declare?
"I was asleep--
From a deep dream I woke and swear:
The world is deep,
Deeper than day had been aware.
Deep is its woe;
Joy--deeper yet than agony:
Woe implores: Go!
But all joy wants eternity--
Wants deep, wants deep eternity."
This joy Mary does find and continues to experience. You can experience it with her by not just reading, but absorbing this transformational book.