memoir – Page 18 – ~*LunaSea*~

Nordan, Lewis. Boy With Loaded Gun. Chapel Hill: Algonquin, 2000.

Lewis Nordan celebrates a birthday in August. I am pleased to have started off with his nonfiction/fiction memoir, Boy with Loaded Gunas my introduction to Nordan’s writing. I think it will bring insight to everything else I read of his. While this may or may not be a good thing, I am looking forward to it just the same.
Boy with Loaded Gunis heartbreaking and humorous at the same time. Pulling the reader down into sadness, lifting him or her back up with laughter. I found myself comparing the reading experience to that of a fast moving, slightly rickety, out of control rollercoaster. At times I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I didn’t know what was real or an exaggeration. But, I did know one thing, I loved every minute of it; page by page.
Nordan’s memoir begins with the chapter called “Voodoo” and Nordan’s inexplicable love for a voodoo practicing woman. It is at this time Nordan professes, “In these lonely backwaters and days of grief my memory begins” (p 7). We are then taken on a journey through Nordan’s young life while he struggles to love his step-father and escape the confines of small town Itta Bena, Mississippi. Later, it’s coming-of-age encounters with sex and marriage. Babies and buying houses. Alcohol and writing. Down and outs, ups and accomplishements. At times you want to love him. Other times you have to hate him. Just like real life. In other words, human.

Best quotes: “Two men got into an argument about whether a tree was willow or a weed. It was a small knife, and not a deep wound, so neither of the men went home, they just didn’t talk to each other for a while. Then they seemed to forget all about it, and before long they were talking about something else” (p 49).
“Eventually I tried to kill my father, of course” (p 69). Nordan does address the “of course” part of the statement, but it struck me as funny the first time I read it.
“I could scarcely tolerate standing in my own skin, let alone being strong” (p 188).

BookLust Twist: From Book Lust in the chapter “Lewis Nordan: Too Good To Miss” (p 172).

Balakian, Peter. Black Dog of Fate: a memoir. New York: Random House, 1998.

I must have started this book four or five times. I don’t know what it was about the beginning. I’d pick it up, read for a few pages and put it down again, never getting beyond the first chapter. By the time I’d return to pick it back up I had forgotten what I had read and needed to start all over again. Page one. Finally, I took Black Dog of Fate home with me Columbus Day weekend and read it from start to finish. When I was finally able to devote the time and attention to it I couldn’t put it down.
There are very few books I try to push on other people. Very rarely do I try to tell people what I have read and how I feel about it, urging them to see for themselves. This story was different. From the moment I put it down I found myself struggling to put into words what had moved me so yet I needed to say something.

Here’s what I wrote within seconds of finishing it on Monhegan:
It’s the history you don’t commonly read about. It has the facts everyone would like to wish away; a genocide too horrible to imagine as real. The Armenian Massacre wasn’t a standard topic in my history class. As a rule I think we, as a society, want to sweep all and every horrific moment under our subconscious. This is a memoir about a boy’s growing knowledge and deeper understand of his heritage. True to adolescent ambivilance Balakian doesn’t understand the importance of his ancestry. In his youth all the stories his grandmother wanted to tell him were lost on him. It’s only after he is ready does his grandmother’s words mean anything to him. “I came to find out more about the arid Turkish plain when I picked up a book at a time when I was prepared to read it” (p 147).

Other lines that struck me:
“…she would pass me the salty green nuts so we could celebrate with our teeth” (p 13). I think food is always the most appropriate way to celebrate.
“Hokee, soul. Hankids, rest. The soul’s rest: a memorial” (p 140).

BookLust Twist: From Book Lust in the chapter “A Geography of Family and Place” (p 97).