Fashion writer Lavaca’s childhood and teenage years were strange and confounding. The author’s family moved from New York to a Parisian suburb in 1993 when she was 12; the next year she suffered a breakdown. Always considered a bit strange as a child, she found solace and a sense of order in collecting objects. She had a passion for ancient mythologies: “I was obsessed with cabinets of curiosities, historical efforts to catalog and control nature’s oddities,” Lacava writes. As an adult Lacava began looking back over her life “through a narrative illuminated with objects and their respective stories.” As the author began researching her objects, she discovered unlikely links between them and “certain people who reappeared throughout the stories” of such objects as a skeleton key found in the backyard of her new home in France; a fiery antique opal necklace found on the sidewalk following a jaunt to a neighborhood sweet shop; a CD containing Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit”; and the camera she always carried on her journeys around France. “For me, it is my story of conquering another world, a place where in order to survive I needed to seek out wonder,” Lacava explains. In the end, this is an unusual journey through one girl’s material and sometimes painful interior world. (Dec.)
Its brilliance lies in the depth in plumbs. . . . Stephanie LaCava, along with the lovely illustrations throughout the book, shows us just how extraordinary these odd things are.
Truly a lovely book in every sense.
Minnesota Public Radio's "The Daily Circuit Blog"
With help from Matthew Nelson’s elegant drawings, the worldly LaCava impresses by unearthing hidden treasures from a painful youth.
This captivating, wonderfully strange little book is like no other I’ve ever read. Stephanie LaCava has created something original and true, at once emotionally resonant and intellectually challenging. A sheer delight.
A series of wistfully illustrated essays. . . . A strange and lovely journey.
A self-consciously odd coming-of-age memoir in the form of essays about places and objects. A fashion writer and blogger, LaCava suffered some sort of depressive breakdown as a teenage American transplanted to France, but the details are sketchy, particularly in comparison with footnotes that often run longer on the page than the main text. "My strength with the written word," she writes, "is the ability to make unlikely subjects somehow connect, a capacity that has never been my strong suit in life. I had never been patient enough to believe that looking back my sadness would all make sense. But it does now." To the writer, perhaps, but not necessarily to readers, who may also have trouble appreciating the connections she sees. Much of the memoir concerns her adolescent "boredom verging on insanity, locked inside with my little belongings and endless ruminations." Then there are the footnotes on the objects that became talismans, such as a skeleton key she found: "Consider the power of the early locksmith: his still was synonymous with security, and knowledge of his craft was hard to come by, as talented locksmiths didn't want to share their secrets," she writes by way of preamble to an explanation that runs three times as long. Ultimately, LaCava married (which we learn about in the acknowledgements) and learned from a reunion with a French classmate that he (and presumably others) hadn't considered her so troubled, that all kids passed through that difficult stage, but she was correct that the other girls hadn't liked her much. "These sorts of conditions never fully go away," she writes. "I'd presented my childhood as full of whimsy and mystery rather than sadness, so much so that I'd started to believe this version as well." There's a thin line between precocious and overly precious, and this literary debut steps well across it.
This captivating, wonderfully strange little book is like no other I’ve ever read. Stephanie LaCava has created something original and true, at once emotionally resonant and intellectually challenging. A sheer delight.” — Dani Shapiro, author of Devotion and Slow Motion
“What cleverly fills the honeycomb of LaCava’s own story is a compassionate, evocative biography of seemingly aberrant things and a collection of historical anecdotes that most readers would never otherwise learn, let alone find gathered all together in one small (but not diminishing), deliberate, and careful book.” — Booklist
“A series of wistfully illustrated essays. . . . A strange and lovely journey.” — Flavorwire
“Its brilliance lies in the depth in plumbs. . . . Stephanie LaCava, along with the lovely illustrations throughout the book, shows us just how extraordinary these odd things are.” — Matchbook Magazine
“Truly a lovely book in every sense.” — Minnesota Public Radio's "The Daily Circuit Blog"
“With help from Matthew Nelson’s elegant drawings, the worldly LaCava impresses by unearthing hidden treasures from a painful youth.” — Interview Magazine
What cleverly fills the honeycomb of LaCava’s own story is a compassionate, evocative biography of seemingly aberrant things and a collection of historical anecdotes that most readers would never otherwise learn, let alone find gathered all together in one small (but not diminishing), deliberate, and careful book.
What cleverly fills the honeycomb of LaCava’s own story is a compassionate, evocative biography of seemingly aberrant things and a collection of historical anecdotes that most readers would never otherwise learn, let alone find gathered all together in one small (but not diminishing), deliberate, and careful book.
