An Absence so Big
As I write this, it’s been less than a week since we lost Wesker, and my heart is still raw and aching with all of the absences I’m feeling. No warm, fluffy body purring and curled around my head at night. No little footfalls tracing a path from the bedroom closet to the living room. No screaming in joy in the basement because Wesker had her snowman toy and wanted everyone to know it. No shadow winding its way around the golden rod or rolling around in the catmint.
We’ve been slowly cleaning up her spot in the closet and putting away a few special toys so that they can stay with her when she eventually comes home again and can be put in the cabinet. It’s just so hard. It feels like I’m reshaping my life around so many holes.
Happy Belated Friendsgiving
October is full of spooky things and that doesn’t leave a lot of room for (Canadian) Thanksgiving. So this year I decided that a month late was probably better than never to celebrate a belated Friendsgiving on the blog. I’ve gathered together books about friends — either overtly, or sneakily — and I’ll be reviewing them all November long.
Kicking things off, I’m taking a look at Anthony Cronin’s Dead as Doornails, recently reissued by Dalkey Archive Press for its fifty-year anniversary. Cronin was an editor, poet, and critic who fought fiercely for the arts in Ireland. He was an active part of the literary scene and friends with many of its best and brightest — which is the subject of this memoir. But don’t think this book is all about literary genius. It’s also about shenanigans, parties, and the friends that defined his life — for better or worse.
The Ups and Downs of the Creative Life
It’s pretty easy for outsiders to see a life in the arts as somehow easier or feckless. But it’s not sunshine and rainbows and good times. There is the advantage of living a life outside the borders of conventional boxes and trajectories. But often the costs can be high. Financial security is a nearly unattainable goal, and often friends become family after your original family fails to understand you or the weird life you chose to live. There is joy and pain, and Cronin does a good job balancing both of these things.
For every story of a hilarious and drunken escapade in the middle of Dublin, there is a lament about help not offered well or not offered in time. The missed opportunities and alienation that dogged so many steps is acknowledged and given space to exist at the same moment as the good times.
Looking Back Without Anger
When it comes to the Irish literary scene in the 20th century there is no shortage of writing on it or about it, but there is quite often a definite sense of ‘tweeness’ that can pervade the offerings. Cronin is trying his best to write honestly and while he acknowledges that he has no choice but to be subjective, he also admits his wrongs and the wrongs of others. His recollections do not fall into anything like the heavily embroidered nostalgia of his competitors.
Dead as Doornails is a memoir that shines in a very simple way: It is very human. It has the clear voice of someone looking back on events that were monumental at the time but seem petty in the present or vice versa. Cronin looks back with regret and without any kind of anger or bitterness at the friends that have drifted away or the disasters of being young and dumb. He is trying to recount life as he understands it from the distance of older adulthood — and with the grace of seeing the long gone as who they were instead of what posterity has made them into.
Beginning to Heal
It’s been hard and I and my lovely spouse have cried a lot, but I can see the signs of healing beginning as we talk about a small memorial for Wesker and as we share stories about her. It’s a glimmer of hope that we won’t always cry when we look at her closed closet. Things will get better. But it’s going to take time.
