biography — News — Lunarian Press

To me, Shirley Jackson is one of the most fascinating authors in American literature. I’m sure that every high school students in the U.S. vividly remembers reading “The Lottery” for the first time, and The Haunting of Hill House has become one of the great classics of literary horror. Yet, Jackson also wrote light-hearted family stories for women’s magazines. So when I saw Ruth Franklin’s biography of Shirley Jackson, I was intensely curious. What inspired Jackson to write the disturbing fiction that she did? How did she reconcile those stories with the ones she wrote about her family and children in such a light-hearted way?

Ruth Franklin’s biography draws together the seemingly disparate elements of Jackson’s life, balancing the loving mother and irreverent housewife with the woman who unerringly found the dark fault lines beneath the seemingly idyllic post-war American suburbs. Jackson suffered from her mother’s cruel and cold-hearted judgements and her own deep insecurities, which were exacerbated by a husband who was her biggest supporter and most vicious critic. Jackson’s own life reflected the contradictions of her time, when women had won the right to vote and often found success in new fields, yet were also burdened with huge household responsibilities and expectations. What’s more, Jackson captured some of the loneliness and isolation women often felt at this time. It’s no surprise that many of her protagonists are quite literally trapped within their homes, often alone except for immediate family members.

Cover of Shirley Jackson: A Rather Haunted Life by Ruth Franklin

As a wife, mother, and writer myself, I was often shocked at how much Shirley’s situation spoke to me personally. She had four children and often wrote while her babies were napping, as I did when my children still took naps. She struggled to keep her house as clean as her neighbors expected, and until The Haunting of Hill House was published and became a huge phenomenon, she and her husband struggled with money. She struggled with her weight; her mother sent her cruel letters criticizing her for her looks, even after she became a bestselling author. Her doctors prescribed her weight-loss drugs and diet drinks. For someone who lived so long ago, her life and story felt strangely modern, and her struggles similar to the ones many creative women have today—balancing work and family, the pressures to look a certain way or to lose weight, dealing with unsupportive or misunderstanding family members.

I also love the way that Franklin captured some of Jackson’s writing process and the creation of her books. It certainly inspired me to read more of Shirley Jackson’s writing, in particular We Have Always Lived in the Castle, and hopefully I’ll eventually gear myself up to read the Haunting of Hill House (it sounds terrifying). I’m also curious about Jackson’s family memoirs as well, and I’ve read several of the stories in Let Me Tell You.

I’d recommend this book to anyone who’s interested in writing and biographies, and especially female writers. It’s a compelling read about a woman with an incredibly interesting life.

Sapience

Saints and Curses

I got the book “Lulu in Hollywood” after listening to the History Chicks podcast on Louise Brooks, an iconic movie star from the 1920s and early 1930s. Their descriptions of Louise fascinated me—her life was full of incredible highs and lows, and she observed Hollywood with a sharp eye and unusual honesty. So when at the end of the show they mentioned that Louise Brooks had written a book called “Lulu in Hollywood,” I decided to go ahead and get it. It’s apparently well-known among people who are interested inn Hollywood history or films, because Louise had such an intimate knowledge of the place, and because she herself was such an interesting character.

Louise Brook was a stunning actress and dancer who became Hollywood’s iconic flapper.

The book isn’t a traditional autobiography by any means. In fact, it includes an essay Louise wrote called “Why I Will Never Write My Memoirs.” It’s more of a collection of Louise’s writings about films and the people who made them, from Greta Garbo and Lillian Gish to W.C. Fields and the German director G. W. Pabst. Yet, Brook’s prose brings to life the people she knew and the places she visited, from their deepest, darkest flaws to their greatest triumphs. Her reverence for the great artists of her time makes the book sing with vivid memories of luminaries such as Charlie Chaplin, with whom she had a lovely three month long affair, to Martha Graham, whom she danced with in the Denishawn Dance Company. But Brooks also has a keen and unforgiving eye for weakness, and her depictions of Humphrey Bogart, William Randolph Hearst, and Marion Davies will feel honest, clear, and cold. The heart-breaking tale of Pepi Lederer, Marion Davies’ brilliant but constantly overshadowed niece is one example of Hollywood’s cruelty to those it considers “failures.” Brooks watches the destruction of many starlets and stars close up, including herself.

It’s interesting to read this book with all the modern revelations about Harvey Weinstein and other Hollywood sex abusers. Louise vividly details the sexual humiliations that she was exposed to as a star, and it’s absolutely harrowing to consider how lesser women were likely treated. She describes a frightening scene of Humphrey Bogart terrorizing her when his wife Mayo Methot couldn’t find her shoe. At other times, she describes the cruel jests and casual sexism she was subjected to by the crews she worked with, or the ugly double standards for men and women she witnessed. It’s easy to see why she fled Hollywood rather than try to stay there as an aging star.

I’d recommend this book to anyone interested in early silent movies, the 1920s, or old Hollywood. Yet, I don’t think it needs to be limited to that. Louise Brook’s sharp eye and honesty gives the book something enduring about human nature. Perhaps it has lessons about how no stars can endure living o the pedestals their fans create for them. Brook’s depictions of the intense personalities and the harrowing personal tragedies of the people who lived in the wake of Hollywood is well worth reading for anyone.

Sapience

Book Review: Shirley Jackson: A Rather Haunted Life

Review: Lulu in Hollywood