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The Kiss: A Memoir Paperback – April 12, 2011
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- Print length256 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherRandom House Trade Paperbacks
- Publication dateApril 12, 2011
- Dimensions5.19 x 0.56 x 7.97 inches
- ISBN-100812979710
- ISBN-13978-0812979718
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Editorial Reviews
Review
“Only a writer of extraordinary gifts could bring so much light to bear on so dark a matter, redeeming it with the steadiness of her gaze and the uncanny, heartbreaking exactitude of her language.”—Tobias Wolff, author of This Boy’s Life
“Beautifully written . . . jumping back and forth in time yet drawing you irresistibly toward the heart of a great evil.”—The New York Times
“Like all good literature, The Kiss illuminates something that we knew already, while also teaching us things we had not even suspected.”—Los Angeles Times
“A darkly beautiful book, fearless and frightening, ironic and compassionate.”—Mary Gordon, author of Circling My Mother
“Harrison’s story is her own, but it is also a brilliant fiction, densely mythic, sometimes almost liturgical sounding and raw. She is both author and protagonist of a dark pilgrim’s progress.”—The Atlanta Journal and Constitution
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
One of us flies, the other brings a car, and in it we set out for some destination. Increasingly, the places we go are unreal places: the Petrified Forest, Monument Valley, the Grand Canyon -- places as stark and beautiful and deadly as those revealed in satellite photographs of distant planets. Airless, burning, inhuman.
Against such backdrops, my father takes my face in his hands. He tips it up and kisses my closed eyes, my throat. I feel his fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck. I feel his hot breath on my eyelids.
We quarrel sometimes, and sometimes we weep. The road always stretches endlessly ahead and behind us, so that we are out of time as well as out of place. We go to Muir Woods in northern California, so shrouded in blue fog that the road is lost; and we drive down the Natchez Trace into deep, green Mississippi summer. The trees bear blossoms big as my head; their ivory petals drift to the ground and cover our tracks.
Separated from family and from the flow of time, from work and from school; standing against a sheer face of red rock one thousand feet high; kneeling in a cave dwelling two thousand years old; watching as a million bats stream from the mouth of Carlsbad Caverns into the purple dusk -- these nowheres and no-times are the only home we have.
Product details
- Publisher : Random House Trade Paperbacks; 3/13/11 edition (April 12, 2011)
- Language : English
- Paperback : 256 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0812979710
- ISBN-13 : 978-0812979718
- Item Weight : 6.7 ounces
- Dimensions : 5.19 x 0.56 x 7.97 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #525,948 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #2,266 in Author Biographies
- #5,476 in Women's Biographies
- #15,009 in Memoirs (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
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About the author

Author Photo by Joyce Ravid.
Kathryn Harrison was born in 1961 in Los Angeles, California, where she was raised by her mother’s parents. She is a graduate of Stanford University and the Iowa Writers Workshop, where, in 1986, she met her husband, the novelist Colin Harrison. They had a first date on Friday, April 25, and on Monday, April 28, they moved in together. The Harrisons married in 1988, and live in Brooklyn with their three children. Kathryn writes novels, memoirs, personal essays, biography, and true crime. She is a frequent reviewer for the New York Times Book Review, and teaches memoir at Hunter College’s MFA program in Creative Writing, in New York City.
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When Ms. Harrison sought professional help because she feared for her life, (a potential suicide), and her sanity, she worked very hard to revisit her past, to learn about and understand the horrors she experienced, and to explore her family's dynamics, particularly those between her mother, father and herself. Although the subject of incest is a major taboo, the act - the crime - is much more prevalent in our society than one would imagine. Because there is so much shame attached to incestuous relationships, victims rarely divulge their dark secrets, and so documentation and accurate statistics are difficult to come by.
Kathryn's parents met when they were seventeen. They fell in love, and when the teenage girl became pregnant with Kathryn, the young couple married and lived with the disapproving maternal grandparents. Before the infant turned one year-old, her grandfather pressured her father, just a boy really, to leave and get a divorce so his wife could begin her life anew. Kathryn saw her father twice over the next twenty years. Her mother, who provided her child with almost no emotional stability, moved into her own apartment when Kathryn turned six, leaving her behind and no phone number or mailing address where she could be contacted. She did visit, however, and spent time with her daughter. Both grandparents raised the little girl, who was bright, gifted, and creative. She turned into a beautiful, but extremely troubled young woman, longing to be loved.
When Harrison entered college, her father, now an ordained minister, reestablished contact with her. He had remarried and had another family. Oddly enough, Kathryn's mother, who appeared to be still in love with her ex-husband, arranged for him to spend a week with their 20 year-old daughter and herself, and invited them both to stay at her small apartment. She vied with her daughter for the man's attention throughout his visit. When he left, Kathryn drove him to the airport. Ms Harrison writes: "A voice over the public-address system announces the final boarding call. As I pull away, feeling the resistance of his hand behind my head, how tightly he holds me to him, the kiss changes. It is no longer a chaste, closed-lipped kiss. My father pushes his tongue deep into my mouth: wet, insistent, exploring, then withdrawn. He picks up his camera case, and, smiling brightly, he joins the end of the line of passengers disappearing into the airplane." She wonders if the weird, unsettled feelings she has are appropriate...if other fathers kiss their daughters like this. "In years to come," she writes, "I'll think of the kiss as a kind of transforming sting, like that of a scorpion: a narcotic that spreads from my mouth to my brain." This is the kiss of the book's title - a turning point in the author's life and in her relationship with her dad.
For twenty years, throughout her childhood and adolescence, Kathryn yearned to have a father, like other children. It is painful to imagine the ambivalence she felt after "the kiss," and the guilt she felt for that very ambivalence after their physical relationship began. This is a man, a minister of God, who tells his very vulnerable daughter, that he "was frightened when he felt that he loved me more than God, but the heresy was resolved when God announced to my father that He was revealing Himself to my father through me."
The most shocking aspects of Ms. Harrison's narrative do not deal directly with the incest, her father's criminal behavior, her mother's extreme narcissism, or either set of grandparents. What truly astonishes is the realization that this woman survived to become a relatively healthy adult, an extraordinarily gifted writer, and a loving mother and wife. There is much here that is hopeful and inspiring. I purposefully put off reading "The Kiss" until I had read some of the author's fiction. I wanted to keep the memoir in perspective and not allow it to color my opinion about her other work. I have read three of her novels so far and have become quite a fan.
There has been way too much publicity surrounding "The Kiss," for all the wrong reasons, as far as I am concerned. Ms. Harrison has been accused of sensationalism, of writing about such a culturally taboo topic to make money, for not writing more from a victim's point of view - not portraying herself as sufficiently devastated, etc.. In an interview, the author said that one of the reasons she wrote this story, is because her first novel, where the heroine has an affair with her father, is deemed autobiographical by critics. The female character was/is totally unlike Harrison, and she felt as if she had "betrayed her own history." She wanted to set the record straight.
This searing account of an obsessive, forbidden love affair, in all its complexity, is brilliantly documented. There is a noticeable lack of affect in Ms. Harrison's sparse prose, demonstrating how detached she was from her feelings of rage, sadness and pain. She also discusses here her bouts with anorexia and bulimia, her attempts to reclaim her life and her quest for a personal identity. Not easy to read - but well worth the effort.
JANA
Certainly, I can't say that I found any of the memoir's characters sympathetic. The mother is too self-absorbed to own up to motherhood. The father is a perverted priest, just as self-absorbed in his lust for his daughter. The characters that try to help the damaged Harrison end up being pushed away. What is left if this narrative has no tolerable characters? Only shock value. I could reference the murderer Pee Wee Gatskins' "Autobiography of a Serial Killer" for an example. He was in no way likable. But he doesn't tease; he lets the reader get close in details and I felt continually disturbed. But with Harrison, there wasn't enough "shock" to keep me interested when I dislike her. While I don't desire to read smut scenes by Harrison of the incest, to say that she remembers nothing about having sex with her father can't be true. There were thoughts running through her head during the act. I continually felt this way during her memoir, as though she was holding me at arm's reach and refusing to allow me to emotionally connect with her via a deeper look into her mind. I failed to find the book an easy or quick read because of this; rather, it was a chore, and if it wasn't required reading for a course back in college, I would have put it down halfway through.
Furthermore, I found Harrison's method of jumping through time frustrating. Just on pages 192-93, we go from being at the bedside of her dying mother, to her father's car at a truck stop (at which point in the timeline this is, I'm still uncertain), and then to the memories of Harrison as a young child. Perhaps just jumping non-linearly through the memoir is a way of giving the reader a similar feeling of confusion to that of Harrison at the time, but it became tiring. That being said, Harrison does use words well, and the writing has an otherwise nice, fitting style.
Obviously, this is an acclaimed book with a place in the history of literature and memoir. But I came to dislike Harrison too intensely to get any enjoyment from this read.
The book was reviting, beautifully told, and amazing. It was not salacious or trashy or detailed. The story was poignant, sad, and unforgettable. I look forward to reading more books by the author and recommend this book to mature readers who have compassion on a young needy woman.
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にもかかわらず「文学として」なっていないとか、
ひどいのは「娯楽性に欠けている」という意見を遠回しに言うレビュアーもいる。
これは誰かが期待するようなポルノ作品ではない。
もしアダルトビデオみたいな場面やスポーツ新聞の扇情小説のようなものを期待するなら
いますぐこのページを去るべきだ。
そして、同様の近親相姦に関わった人になにか参考になるような「教訓」とかエピソードを求めても
そういったものもない。
普遍化は不可能なひとつの歴史なのだ。
文章が見事すぎるためにフィクションかと疑いを持ったが、
間違いなく事実あったことであり、発表にあたって著者は周囲の、これによって
傷つくかもしれない夫や夫の両親にもきちんと話した上で
公開に踏み切っている。
登場するのは愛情に飢えた人物ばかりで、生きていく規範は頼りない宗教の曖昧な解釈。
父親も気の毒な人ではあるのだが、しかし同時に猛烈なエゴイストであり、
主人公にむかって(自分の実の娘に向かって)
「お前はわたしのものだ。わたしにはその権利がある」と断言する。
おぞましいのは、僅かに遠慮がちに描かれた父と娘の関係する場面よりも
これらのあまりにも自分勝手な求愛の、独占の、支配欲の言葉である。
主人公が父親を愛していた、というのは事実だがそれは娘が親に愛されたいという
意味であり、男女の関係を喜んでいた訳ではない。
人間は自分を完全に客観的に記述することは出来ない、だからこのノンフィクションにも
何らかの自己防衛や美化は含まれるだろう。それらを理性的に排除して読むのが
本来の(あるべき)読み方なのだろうが、この本に限っては著者の言葉に素直に従って読み終え、
あとは感性がこれを消化するのをじっと待った方が良さそうに思う。
(この本をちゃんと理解出来る人間が世界に何人居るか)と
薄っぺらい理解能力の我々にんげんをあざ笑いながら
それでもどこかにいるであろう「理解する読者」の存在に賭けて
星5つ。













