#autobiographies

[uwmspeccoll]

Marbled Monday

We're jumping back in to Marbled Monday with a splash! This wavy teal, gold, and cream marbling was stumbled upon while we were doing some record clean-up in our compact shelving area. It is a Spanish Wave pattern that is created by wiggling the paper while putting it onto the surface of the water bath that holds the marbling pigments. This particular iteration of the pattern is quite wigglesome, suggesting that the person doing the marbling was moving the paper in a somewhat irregular way rather than in a steady back-and-forth motion.

The book is volume 1 of Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Benjamin Franklin. Our copy is a second edition from 1818 published by Henry Colburn. Volumes 1 and 2 are about the life of American printer and publisher, author, inventor and scientist, and diplomat Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790), while volumes 3 and 4 contain his correspondence, and volumes 5 and 6 contain "posthumous and other writings." We only hold volumes 1 and 2 of the 6. Most of Franklin's life story published here is an autobiography, with additional writing about his later years contributed by his grandson, who was the illegitimate son of Franklin's illegitimate son as well as a failed diplomat and real estate speculator, William Temple Franklin (1760-1823). Temple Franklin, as he was known, became his grandfather's secretary at the age of 16 and was named his literary heir.

View more Marbled Monday posts here.

-- Alice, Special Collections Department Manager

[mysharona1987]

[dk-thrive]

“Memoirs so often beg the question, “Why would you want to tell me all this?”

— Critic of 2012 New Yorker piece on Les Goddesses, in Maggie Nelson’s “Like Love: Essays and Conversations.” (Graywolf Press, April 2, 2024)

[faithintherippleeffect]

Poetry is in me, it’s beating with my heart In rhyming couplets, no finish, no start How can I go on, when my life’s been torn apart? I’ll rhyme on forever, part by part. In no time at all, I’ll be free & independent A psychiatric survivor & descendant Replete & refined & glowing resplendent Just as fate has no doubt intended.

[sbrown82]

What would you recommend as books to someone who knows very little about the Rolling Stone? Would you recommend any of the autobiographies? Are there any you would recommend avoiding?

Did you ever watch Don plum with Leo DiCaprio? Thoughts lol?

Hi anon! This is a really good question. I've actually read a few books on The Rolling Stones, some first-hand accounts but tell real in-depth details about the band for those who aren't familiar. But a lot of books about the Stones that are out there are just regurgitating things we already know or are completely inaccurate, meaning the author of the book has never even spoken to any of the guys in the band. But some of my favorites are:

Mick: The Wild Life and Mad Genius of Jagger by Christopher Andersen

Life by Keith Richards

Stone Alone: The Story of a Rock 'n' Roll Band by Bill Wyman

Brian Jones: The Making of the Rolling Stones by Paul Trynka

Real Life by Marsha Hunt (Not a Stones book, but she gave us some pretty good tea on the "real" Mick Jagger!)

Soul Survivor: The Autobiography by P.P. Arnold (Also not a book about the Stones, but baby, she dropped some gems, especially about Mick Jagger and Brian Jones)

I also love watching documentaries on The Rolling Stones, too.

Crossfire Hurricane (2012)

Charlie is My Darling (1966)

The Quiet One (2019)

The Stones and Brian Jones (2023) This was REALLY good!

Gimme Shelter (1970)

Stones in Exile (2010)

My Life as a Rolling Stone (2022)

And, funny enough, I have seen Don's Plum. I saw it years ago. I thought Leonardo DiCaprio’s character was obnoxious, which is interesting because I think I heard all the actors improvised. You know, it was this low budget film that was unearthed; very “Pussy Posse” adjacent to the Hollywood crowd of that time. I do like Leo as an actor and would probably watch anything he is in, just because I know chances are it's gonna be good. But man, I do live for the moments when he gets fucking DRAGGED like this:

[gothicwidowsworld]

The F1 bookshelf is up with two new additions this evening. Mr Lando Norris & Mr George Russell welcome to the collection 📚

[maggiebellemorgan]

Sew to Speak by Siham N. Abu-Ghazaleh

[briggsonbooks]

Author Tina N. Katamay featured on the talk show Briggs on Books

[mysticdragon3md3]

[femmedesannees2020]

Partie 1: Les racines

L'expérience sentimentale, sociale, psychique, familiale, déroutante que je vis depuis quelques mois me donnait envie d'écrire dessus. Une expérience si commune, banale même, partagée par la plupart des gens, et en même temps, une telle traversée du désert, me paraissait, depuis son commencement, un bon sujet pour m’essayer à l'écriture autobiographique. A l'écriture tout court d’ailleurs… Cette expérience, je vous la donne en mille (comme dit ma mère) : une rupture.. 😭

LA rupture! Celle qui fait mal. Rien à voir avec les petits ecueilles de la jeunesse, - en tout cas de la mienne, j'avais beaucoups de mal a m’engager sur ce terrain - les ruptures qui font, certes, mal à l’égo et pour lesquels on verse une petite larmes car on avait investi du temps et de l’énergie pour cette relation.

Non! Je parle de celle où on y croyait. Le grand amour, celui qui survivra à tout, qui leur montrera à tous... La rupture qui te laisse non pas le cœur en mille morceaux mais plutôt comme un plaie béante, avec un lambeau de chaire qui pandouille. Cette rupture, qui ressemble plus à une dégringolade qu'à une séparation.

Dégringolade, oui, voilà le bon mot pour exprimer ce que j’ai vécu. Mais comme je suis têtu, ou tenace - certains disent forte, comme ils sont gentils, d'autres disent conne - plutôt que de rester à terre j’ai tout tenté pour ne pas accepter la réalité. Je me suis bien débattu avec elle.

Il m’aura fallu 4 mois, quelques centaines d’euros de plus a mon budget réel, généreusement offert par ma famille, - l’argent ne fait pas le bonheur mais aide à soigner le malheur à mon avis - un long voyage en Espagne avec une de mes meilleures amies et quelques soirées à toucher le fond pour accepter cette réalité : ce qu’il y avait entre Axel et moi, c’était fini. 😭

C’est cette histoire que je voulais raconter, mais un tel chaos d’émotions et de pensées s’entrechoquant à l’intérieur d’un être, demande une plume experte et un esprit organisé. Et le malheur, on n'a pas trop envie de le partager.

Mais là je sais. Je vais tenter de commenter en “real-time”, comme une sorte de blog a la Sexe and the city, la re-rencontre avec Axel.

Depuis une semaine, l'idée de créer un nouveau genre de relation entre nous est née. Une relation libre autrement dit. Pas forcément libéré de la fidélité, mais libéré des carcans, des modèles, des injonctions. Vaste programme. En tout cas c’est intéressant.

Donc, plutôt que de raconter un épisode triste , commun et où j’ai pas vraiment été au plus haut de ma gloire, - 4 mois c’est long ou pas pour se remettre? - je veux parler de notre envie de tout envoyer promener pour réécrire les règles à notre avantage. Changer le monde quoi! Un petit peu quoi... Ça commence par changer mon monde intérieur je crois, et c’est en ça que c’est stimulant.

Intellectuellement cette idée me séduit directement. Ces derniers mois j’ai écouté pas mal d'émissions de radio sur le sujet du couple et de sa réinvention. Presque toutes menées par Ovidie.😅 Et ça faisait du bien d’apprendre que ce piège du couple qui finit par se faire du mal, dans lequel nous étions tombés, était partagé par beaucoup et pas seulement mon entourage. Des fois je me demandais si c'était pas nous le problème. Moi et mes amis biscornus. Mais j'en suis venue à penser que le problème venait plutôt du couple, selon le modèle actuel généralisé, issu d’une époque révolue, en total inadéquation avec les aspirations des personnes modernes aujourd'hui.

Mais... “pas intellectuellement”, j’avoue que ca me fait mal “je sais pas trop où”. Certainement là où il y a mes rêves de princesse et de prince charmant et de famille bruyante mais unie à la “Malcom”.

Ma fierté en prend un coup aussi. Un homme qui m’aime, enfin qui a “des sentiments” comme il dit prudemment, et qui ne veut pas tout laisser tomber, ses choix et son épanouissement pour moi… Ah quelle douleur!

Putain les rêves qu’on a dans la tête sont tenaces! C’est vrai que j’ai regarder beaucoup de films. Des bons et des moins bons. Le cinéma nous colle des modèles de vie lissés, pimper, inatteignables. Et même si je ne suis clairement pas la caricature de la midinette qui attend son homme pour exister et que j’ai les ressources culturelles pour qu’on s’attende de ma part à une femme indépendante, le fantasme d’un homme qui prendrait soin de moi car je serai une petite fleur fragile malgré ma grande gueule persiste en moi.

Le problème des fantasmes c’est que ça entre vite en collision avec la réalité. La réalité c’est que je ne supporte pas qu’on me dise ce que je dois faire même si c’est pour prendre soin de moi - le comble c’est que je suis une championne pour faire cette ingérance dans la vie des autres 😑- et que je suis pas si fragile que ça. (4 mois c’est long ou pas pour s’en remettre?).

Enfin bref, voilà mon premier billet sur ce blog. Je dévoile ici les racines de mes futurs réflexions et souffrances.

Le désir de sortir de cette rupture avec quelque chose en plus plutôt qu’en moins, l’envie candide de faire parti du changement, ces deux motivations seront les sujets que j’aborderais le prochains billet. (Il y a aussi le grand amour que je porte à Axel, mais l’amour ça fait pas tout).

😽

[contentment-of-cats]

Women being female in public and their autobiographies

Jada Pinkett-Smith. Not someone I am normally interested in other than her autobiography popping up on my reading recommendations. It's the kicked-hornet-nest buzz of rage that accompanies being female in public surrounding her autobiography - unread as it's not my cuppa. I can't speak to being black and female in public, so I will stay in my female lane here.

People hate women being women in public unless it is for consumption. Ms. Pinkett-Smith did not spill the tea. Or at least she did not spill the right type or quantity desired about her marriage and the insides thereof.

Not just men, but women will rip other women to shreds over something as trivial as shoes. Women are patriarchy's most effective enforcers, after all. It doesn't matter who the woman is, if she doesn't stay not in her lane, but in the box that people want her in, then there's going to be trouble. Perhaps this is especially true for famous women - not just celebrities famous for being famous - where they are also expected to serve the tea. People want gossip, revelations from private lives, they want it wet and juicy, titillating and salacious. A woman has to justify her presence in public by serving up her most private self in order to justify her presence at all.

It's no different for women who are not celebrities. Take as an example Susan Gubar, author and distinguished Professor Emerita of English and Women's Studies at Indiana University. I am currently reading her 'Memoir of a Debulked Woman' - about her 15-year journey with ovarian cancer and her remission. She has been nominated for the Pulitzer Prize for Nonfiction, and has been awarded a Guggenheim Fellowship for Humanities. Susan Gubar is extensively published, and her work 'The Madwoman in the Attic' is one of the (I hate to say it) seminal works of feminist literary study.

One of the dominant criticisms I hear of her autobiographical works concerning her experience with cancer is that she is 'intellectualizing' her experience, as if a woman's experience with one of the most horrifying, terrifying, traumatizing diagnoses and treatment processes needs to be emotionally bled all over the page. As if sharing her experience in a way that is comfortable, relatable to herself and her life experience is Wrong. Doesn't it relate to the female experience that has Kardashianized women's lives, even the smallest actions, for public consumption?

The definition, according to Merriam Webster

Intellectualizing what is happening to me is one of the only ways I have stayed passably sane, but as women are supposed to be in touch with their emotions, supposed to be emotional creatures, intellectualizing our situations is a coping strategy barred to us. It's affiliated with dissociation, a removal of one's psyche from a given situation - and considering cancer, that situation is pretty fucking horrifying. Facing death, we are expected to be brave and noble, emotional, floundering until taken by the hand and led through reason as a child through a museum. There are plenty of times during treatment and post-surgery that I was at the breaking point, but those are my private moments, in my nest of blankets and holding my cats.

When did intellectualization become a bad thing? Isn't it a good thing to approach a possible life-ending event with all the pragmatic and intellectual capability at one's disposal? Isn't it a good thing to adapt and make Terror into Tuesday? Yes, I have CPTSD - medically related, diagnosed and on my medical record along with my previous depression and anxiety. Am I going to write about it?

Of course. This journal is my sloppy autobiography, my being female in public, a stream of consciousness with fandoming and cat pics. I am not the academic powerhouse of Professor Gubar, nor the celebrity as Ms. Pinkett-Smith, but I am a women with a brain.

Intellectualize on, my sisters.

[anteroom-of-death]

Kinda wanna hear what Billie Piper's thoughts are about what goes down in Britney Spears' autobiography....

[septembergold]

OTHER PEOPLE’S HOUSES

BY LORE SEGAL

[faithintherippleeffect]

Sleepy Head

Yesterday I spent the whole day in bed Thoughts & dreams tangled in my head A fitful night followed suit Too much sleeping can bear strange fruit. Such vivid dreams played on my mind Alternate worlds of a colourful kind I arose at daws not so fresh as a daisy Smoking in the sunrise, feeling hazy.

[bookloversofbath]

The Ruling Passion of John Gould: A Biography of the Bird Man :: Isabella Tree

[borisdunand]

Je visite l'ennui, le sentiment d'avoir raté sa vie, de perdre son temps, la honte de ne pas savoir, ne pas oser, de ne pas profiter, mais aussi un certain bonheur dans la tristesse, un certain soulagement dans la langueur, la lenteur du désarroi.