A friend and I were discussing books that had been important to us when around the age of 16. We were embarrassed to admit a few of them. Many have not held up very well -- I was reading Kathy Acker at the time, sure, but the Jeanette Winterson and the Salman Rushdie don't hold my attention anymore. There are others I won't confess. The first book that had come into my head, though, was Molly Haskell's memoir Love and Other Infectious Diseases. I remember being rapturous about her story of her husband's mysterious neurological ailment that nearly killed him. After the conversation I walked past my bookshelf and was slightly amazed to see my old copy on my shelf -- I don't remember packing it as one of the few books that came with me to Berlin. But there it was.
Rereading it the past few days, I'm really surprised at it. I can't imagine was my 16-year-old self saw in it. Not that it doesn't hold up -- on the contrary, its passages on battling health insurance companies, digressions on the tug of war between being an independent feminist and a married woman, and passages on classic movies all make it a remarkable book. I just don't see why the 16-year old version of me was interested. Haskell was a movie critic and a magazine writer, and it shows in her writing style. (Also, this was published before memoir was such an established genre that they all pretty much follow the same template. It's a bit stumbling compared to the more slick contemporary memoirs, and it turns out that is refreshing.) I was obsessed with magazines at the time, I had subscriptions to Gourmet, Details (back when it was good), Esquire, huH, Raygun, god knows what else. I still remember a lot of those writers and get excited when I see they have books out. (God. Let's have a moment for magazines in the 90s.)
(Amen.)
Whatever the reason I loved it so, it was a nice little surprise to find the book waiting for me. And discover 16-year-old me wasn't quite such an idiot. Except for the pink hair phase, what the fuck.
worried![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
contemplative