A Review of Lee Grant’s Memoir is my latest piece on the Huffington Post.
Here’s how I begin the article:
Of late, meaning the last few years, coming to myself in the dark woods in the middle of my life, I read autobiographies of interesting women. They are my guides as I navigate a way that is lost only because it isn’t found yet—because I haven’t lived it. I read to see how these courageous souls made their way through the emptinesses and fullnesses that punctuate our journeys as mothers, wives, and people invested in their own careers.
Here’s a little more:
Along the way, Grant seems to have seized every adventure offered to her, displaying a wanton appetite for life at odds with her sometimes crippling stage fright and insecurity over her age. I was intrigued by the dissonance and heartened by it. I’ve long held that perfectionism is a virulent form of self-hatred. Grant’s openness about her frailties demonstrates the bedrock of self love that must have enabled her to endure the cruel devastation of being blacklisted when many McCarthy victims didn’t survive.
Find the piece here, and please do “like” it!