{"id":91733,"date":"2015-11-09T13:12:32","date_gmt":"2015-11-09T18:12:32","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=91733"},"modified":"2015-11-09T13:24:26","modified_gmt":"2015-11-09T18:24:26","slug":"the-truth-keeps-you-young","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2015\/11\/09\/the-truth-keeps-you-young\/","title":{"rendered":"The Truth Keeps You Young"},"content":{"rendered":"

Mary Karr\u2019s\u00a0<\/em>The Liars\u2019 Club\u00a0turns twenty.<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"

Mary Karr. Photo \u00a9 Deborah Feingold<\/p><\/div>\n

The first time I met Mary Karr I was, quite frankly, stunned. She was not what I had expected, not that I knew what to expect. I had read all her books, was familiar with the basics of her biography\u2014including any gossip I could find, which is scant in the literary world, even when it comes to best-selling and notoriously dynamic authors\u2014and had even seen her author photo, so I am not sure what came as such a shock to me except for something I might nebulously refer to as her \u201cessence.\u201d<\/p>\n

I was standing in the middle of a party, lost, anxious, and sweaty in a slew of people who would all qualify as name-drops among certain bookish weirdos, when I received a firm tap on the shoulder. I spun around to find a petite brunette smiling about six inches too close to my face, if you\u2019re following traditional social protocols. \u201cI\u2019m Mary Karr and I love you, honey.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n

My reaction resembled what might once have been referred to as \u201cthe vapors.\u201d I dizzily drunk in her words, her spirit and\u2014despite my non-desire to define female authors by their looks\u2014her beauty. It wasn\u2019t that I didn\u2019t expect her to be beautiful but, familiar as I was with the after-school-special\u2013level challenges of her childhood and its reverberations into her adult life, I might also have expected someone a bit more worn. Reddened, perhaps? Burnt by hot Texan sun and experience? Yet there she was, buoyant and glowing like a twelve-year-old on the playground: \u201cWanna be friends?\u201d<\/p>\n

Within ten minutes we were happily documenting our interaction with, to use the parlance of our times, a selfie. \u201cTits up, ho!\u201d Mary advised as she pressed the button.<\/p>\n

I could only conclude that telling the truth keeps you young.<\/p>\n

And for all those who have made a club of loving The Liars\u2019 Club<\/em> and its sister books, we know that Mary Karr has not just made telling the truth her stock and trade. She has made it her art. I am sure some thesis has already noted the brilliance and irony of placing the word \u201cliar\u201d in the title of a book that speaks such aggressive and incessant truths. As Karr describes her childhood, near comic in its unrelenting tragedy, she sends an essential message: not only will the truth set you<\/em> free, it will set a course for others to do the same.<\/p>\n

It would not surprise me if 73 percent of the memoirs written in the last twenty years were the result of passionate Liars\u2019 Club<\/em> readers thinking, Hey, I can do that. After all, there is no end to the macabre stories of childhood you can hear if you just perk your ears up: in the bodega, in the bar, in any twelve-step meeting, in any place at all. The tradition was once to keep those personal histories sealed tight, the way Karr\u2019s unforgettable mother chose to until she became a sexagenarian. But Karr\u2019s refusal to bottle herself up, her refusal to lie<\/em>, lets us know that era is over. Henceforth, the light will pour in.<\/p>\n

Therefore, it doesn\u2019t surprise me that wherever Mary goes, tears are poured in her lap and she hears the gothic truth about the lives of myriad people she has never met, will likely never meet again. She may not have asked for it, but her writing makes it clear that she\u2019s strong enough to take it on.<\/p>\n

But the trouble with The Liars\u2019 Club<\/em> is just how easy Mary makes it look. She is a poet, and so she has a poet\u2019s ease of language, slapping certain words where they oughtn\u2019t traditionally be and creating brand spanking new uses for them. Mary is a natural comedian, with the timing of a stand-up and the vigor of a vaudeville queen. And Mary is insightful beyond measure, recalling childhood with the clear-eyed generosity of someone looking down from a possible heaven. Therefore, her truthful book is a beautiful deception: she makes it look easy to do what is hardest, and that is to tell your own story and have it be heard. Mary\u2019s family couldn\u2019t hide their most sacred business from their neighbors. Now Mary doesn\u2019t want to. Neither do we.<\/p>\n

And I know for sure this cult of Mary has yielded some spectacular results, not just in literature but in actual lives. For a certain group of twenty-something women, consumption of, and passion for, The Liars\u2019 Club<\/em> is both a rite of passage and a mode of self-identification. The expression over-sharing<\/em> (of which I am not so fond, as it seems gendered and Internet-y) is made for the girls, the people, who have read Mary and taken her cue. She had allowed for the release of complex feelings, the use of unorthodox language, the poetry of pain to become part of young female friendships. Even those yet to read the book are benefiting from its reverberations.<\/p>\n

Before my great-aunt died, she wrote a memoir, ostensibly to let our family know just how much had changed in the world since her birth in 1905 but actually to reveal the rotten truth of being a young female person in a town built for boys, with parents who hid the haunting facts of their reality from her. My aunt\u2019s words were plain and dry, with only a glint of the humor that defined her when you sat across from her in a chair by the dock. When I read the book, printed at Kinko\u2019s and shoddily bound, I thought: She is Mary without the words. She is Mary without the weapons. We are lucky that Mary had the words to unlock her truth, the words to make it sing, the weapons of precision and skill, because her feat allows other stories to\u00a0sing, too. They are given validity and shine. We look around with new eyes at the forgotten, the abused, and the quietly unstoppable. I am lucky I was eight when this book was published. I am lucky I grew up in a world where it colored people\u2019s reactions to personal stories, female<\/em> stories. We all are.<\/p>\n

Because Liars\u2019 Club<\/em> is more than an account of a tattered childhood and one brave and brilliant woman\u2019s attempt to use it rather than deny it. This book is an aggressive tap on the shoulder in a crowded room, a smiling funny face asking its readers, Wanna be friends?<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>Lena Dunham is the creator of the critically acclaimed HBO series\u00a0<\/em>Girls and the author of the <\/em>New York Times best-selling essay collection <\/em>Not That Kind of Girl. A frequent contributor to <\/em>The New Yorker, she lives in Brooklyn and Los Angeles.<\/em><\/p>\n

This essay appears as the foreword to the twentieth-anniversary edition of\u00a0<\/i>The Liars\u2019 Club<\/a>, out this week from Penguin Classics.\u00a0\u00a9 2015 Lena Dunham. Reprinted with permission.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Mary Karr\u2019s\u00a0The Liars\u2019 Club\u00a0turns twenty. The first time I met Mary Karr I was, quite frankly, stunned. She was not what I had expected, not that I knew what to expect. I had read all her books, was familiar with the basics of her biography\u2014including any gossip I could find, which is scant in the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":892,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[489],"tags":[17,20140,14986,16889,1619,5927,635,10368,2047,12707,20139,36],"class_list":["post-91733","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books-2","tag-books","tag-female-friendships","tag-friendships","tag-honesty","tag-lena-dunham","tag-mary-karr","tag-memoir","tag-memoirs","tag-poets","tag-selfies","tag-the-liars-club","tag-women"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nLena Dunham on Mary Karr\u2019s \u201cThe Liars\u2019 Club\u201d<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Lena Dunham reflects on the twentieth anniversary of Mary Karr\u2019s groundbreaking memoir.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2015\/11\/09\/the-truth-keeps-you-young\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"The Truth Keeps You Young by Lena Dunham\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"November 9, 2015 \u2013 Mary Karr\u2019s\u00a0The Liars\u2019 Club\u00a0turns twenty.The first time I met Mary Karr I was, quite frankly, stunned. 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