Looking for a thoughtful read peppered with humor and humility? Try Tell Me More by Kelly Corrigan.
Premise
Tell Me More is a memoir of sorts, focused on a specific purpose. Corrigan says in her book dedication, “This book is about things we say to people we love (including ourselves) that make things better.” Each chapter is about one thing Corrigan is learning to say, such as, “It’s Like This”, “Tell Me More”, “I Don’t Know”, and “No”.
What I liked
Corrigan writes easy to read prose full of original, thought-provoking descriptions. For example, here’s how she presents one of her daughters:
Speaking of menstruation, lack of perspective, and fits of irrationality, I have two teenage daughters. Georgia is sixteen, with Vidal Sassoon hair, almond-brown eyes, flat feet, and a killer dimple. She likes lacrosse and Snapchat and prefers precalculus and chemistry to the humanities, where there are too many possible answers. Her interest in me hinges on allowance and rides; offering anything more, like an opinion, visibly chafes her.
I love the rhythm of her words, the accuracy of her observations, and the specificity of her images.
Corrigan ponders deep questions and truths inside the framework of the mundane. She blends serious, sometimes sad reflections with humor and wit to create a wonderful balance of heavy and light. I could understand so many of her struggles. And the ones that were new to me, like the death of a dear friend, hit me harder because of her ability to communicate emotions so powerfully.
The chapter called “Tell Me More” made me reconsider my whole approach to communicating with my kids. Corrigan shares a conversation she had with her college roommate on the way to a reunion. She talks about her daughters, saying, “When they tell me about a problem,— which is rare and getting rarer— I can think of five things they should do before they finish their first sentence.” Her friend responds with, “Right. But then there’s that whole weird thing where half the time, it’s not even about what they say it’s about. So your advice is totally wrong because you don’t even understand what the real problem is or what they’re asking for.” Her friend goes on to suggest that instead of trying to solve our kids’ problems, we should listen and encourage them to talk with phrases like, “Tell me more,”, “What else?, and “How do you feel about that?”
Whoops. I’ve never been good at this. I want to fix the problem (”Have you tried x, y or z?”) or, even worse, minimize the problem (“It’s not that bad”), or suggest, and this is a most horrible offense, that maybe they are making the problem worse. Giant mother fail. One of my sons tried to give me feedback on this a few years ago.
It was during his middle school years, when he liked to give me a recap of his day during the car ride home from school. He summed up the events of each class into a sentence or two, giving me a verbal image of what happened. Usually, it was just a narrative, but sometimes, he would include issues that reared up, like harsh words about a test grade, or a conflict during a group project on the Civil War. Once, I tried to “fix” the problem, throwing out suggestions, feeling very experienced and helpful in the driver’s seat of the van. My son stopped me. “Mom, I just want you to listen. I don’t want you to tell me what to do.”
Ouch.
That alerted me to my problem, but it would take a few more years, and Corrigan’s book, to spark a communication strategy overhaul. I only hope it’s not too late.
What I didn’t like
There was nothing I didn’t like, but I will warn at this point that the book isn’t always easy, and is often quite sad, as Corrigan wrote it while processing the deaths of her father and a dear friend.
Recommendation
If you enjoy memoir and books about motherhood/parenthood, you would definitely enjoy Tell Me More. I listened to the audiobook, read by Corrigan, and it was great car ride/ folding laundry entertainment.
What memoirs have you enjoyed? I also loved and reviewed Glitter and Glue by Kelly Corrigan.
Happy reading!
Julia