Chely Wright’s Like Me starts very promisingly, with a bang. Or, rather, the absence of a bang, as she confronts her darkest hour, gun in her mouth, and decides to put it down. From there, an outpouring begins, a flood of self-recriminations, guilty conciouses, hollow joys and a hand extended in solidarity to every person who has ever experienced a life like hers.
A memoir is a touchy thing for me. Normally I think they’re boring and lame. The last two that I enjoyed, The Natural Laws of Good Luck and Fun Home were actually written more about other people in the authors’ life: Graf’s Chinese husband and Bechdel’s closeted father, respectively. Unhitching the pressure of being the subject allows for more honesty, I think, and Bechdel’s graphic novel particularly well represented the memoir as an exploration/love letter of your origins.
I like to journal, and I often fall victim to the “Today I ate eggs for breakfast” subject that’s about as interesting as a blade of grass amongst a yard of them. I respect a good navel-gazing, then, for the sheer effort it takes to not talk about yourself and the boring things. Phoebe Damrosch wrote a blog that eventally became a book, and while talking about food was the high point, she spoke too much about a subject that was boring: her non-drama-filled Life. Actually, considering she was having an illicit affair with a coworker behind another cowoker’s back, you would think there would be some fur flying! Unfortunately, to the detriment of the book, no such drama occurs.
Wright, on the other hand, is quick to point the finger at herself. She has been doing so since she was a little girl, literally praying every night for God to take the gay away. After going through her childhood, which was actually a fairly entertaining and heartwarming romp througb the Heartland, we land in post-puberty-ville and the line of broekn relationships begin. After a while, the book starts to sound like a “My Name is Earl” styled list of wronged men and women. Wright began this book as a catharsis, as an outlet for the guilt and pressure that lead to that one horrible night when she almost ended her life. She could as easily be reading this book to a pastor in a confessional as to a friend, parent, or God himself.
Frankly, I liked this matter-of-fact tone, as if she were really talking to you. Her personable, respectful manner permeates every sentence, making every page seem to have come directly from her mouth to your ears. All in all, it makes her seem pretty down to Earth and normal.
And this ability, this tone, is what makes this book work. She isn’t crazy with mood swings, dripping syrupy lines and unnecessary embellishes all over the place. She’s normal. She isn’t sprinkling lots of gay language and culture references, because she’s “normal”. She doesn’t go tapping her foot in random public restrooms for sex; she meets people normally, falls in love with people she gets to know normally, and has horrible break-ups like any normal person would. And that’s what I love the most about this book. This book is for those kids out there like her, who wish the gay away, because you are just like everybody else in every other way. You can have the talent, and escape your small hometown, and find success and travel the world, but the gay goes with you. But remind yourself, there are people just “Like Me”.
There was one area, though, where I felt that Wright broke the fourth wall a bit more than necessary, and it was in reference to her intimate relations with fellow country star Brad Paisley. Her comments seemed to have a certain pointedness to them–not directed at him, but at the industry and culture–that kind of drew you away from her journey. Perhaps I only felt this way because he is one of the few named, and known, people in the book.
Overall, it’s a good read. Coupled with the short chapters, it felt a lot like a bedtime snack to relax to before drifting off. You feel as if you know Chely, and you can empathize with her. And if there’s the added bonus of making one parent show their child understanding, it has worked.
On a side note, this is the first book I bought for my Xmas gift Sony E-book Reader, and it was a quick read, with the few photos showing up nice enough. I do love having a real book, though, you know? Glossy photo pages, the smell of it, know what I mean? =)
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