I
first discovered Anne Lamott a couple of years ago when Bill Manhire commended
her book on writing, Bird by Bird.. But over the last Christmas holidays
I had a splurge of reading Lamott. I re-read Bird by Bird in tandem
with her latest book, Travelling Mercies, and enjoyed the old again
as much as the new. (I also read Operating Instructions, her book
on expecting, having and coping with the first year of her son's life. Sam
appears in all three of these books.)
All of these books are worth reviewing, but I want to concentrate on Travelling Mercies. Here Lamott, in her inimitable way, describes her journey of faith. She became a Christian after many years of searching and struggling, and perhaps what I most like about her is her willingness to admit she's still struggling. No easy, "now I'm saved, I'm okay" stuff for her. She is a Christian who's not only still learning about the wonderful grace of God, but also about what it is to behave as a Christian. For this reason, anyone living by the 'rules' who reads this book may struggle themselves with some of what Lamott does after she finally gives in to Christ.
Lamott is a successful writer, but like many writers and artists her life has been anything but straightforward. Her father was also a writer (Lamott's first book detailed his decline into cancer and the affect on family relationships) and her mother a lawyer who eventually left the family and went to work in Hawaii. Alcohol and drugs were part of the normality of this family, and Lamott was the one who fell most deeply into addiction to both these. She describes her long battle up and out of this addiction and her parallel searching for truth in the spiritual area in the long first section of the book, Overture. She is helped in both these areas by people from Christian backgrounds, people with other spiritual viewpoints and people with no obvious spirituality at all, each of them demonstrating Christ's ability to use people of all manner of mindsets to draw us towards Him.
The remainder of the book consists of groups of short chapters in which she writes about her life since then, and the way in which her Episcopal church family has supported her through all manner of highs and lows. Most of these chapters were originally published as columns in Salon Magazine. (Comparison with the original columns, which are available online, show some revision has been done.) Consequently, they don't form a linear passage from her conversion to the present, but rather offer what might be seen as short stories of her life in Christ.
I haven't conveyed, however, what is so wonderful about Lamott's writing. Her spirituality isn't high-flown. Lamott is still a relatively new Christian, and much of what she writes about is her learning process. But it's her wonderful sense of humour and marvellous irony that are most appealing, plus her sheer down-to-earth honesty about herself and life in general. She reminds us again and again how we need to keep our eyes open to the presence of God in all sorts of situations and absurdities.
And her friends and neighbours are just as wonderful, and as absurd. One chapter opens, "I have this beautiful feminist friend named Nora who once said, 'I've been thinking about killing myself, but I want to lose five pounds first.'"
There's no easy way of quoting her delightful style, but I'm going to try. This extract comes from a scene when, as a person who is "too much of an alarmist to stay airborne much longer than" from California to Mexico, she has to admit she's a Christian to the Latvian lady next to her, after having seen that the man on the other side is reading a book by a right-wing Christian author "who thinks Jesus is coming back next Tuesday right after lunch." She writes, "So I told the truth: that I am a believer, a convert. I'm probably about three months away from slapping an aluminium Jesus-fish on the back of my car, although I first want to see if the application or stickum in any way interferes with my lease agreement. And believe me, all this boggles even my mind. But it's true. I could go to a gathering of foot-wash Baptists and, except for my dreadlocks, fit right in. I would wash their feet: I would let them wash mine." mf
Or, "Sometimes people who've read my work send me photos of their families, and I tape them to the wall in the hopes that they'll help me remember that we're all in the same soup, and that they'll make me more forgiving. Who was it who said forgiveness is giving up all hope of having had a different past?"
One warning. Lamott doesn't equate being a Christian writer with avoiding using occasional obscene language. If you can get past that, you'll find a fund of insights and delights.