Chasing the American Dream
Maid by Stephanie Land (2021) and Educated by Tara Westover (2019)
Maid is a thought-provoking memoir about a single mother’s reckoning with the miserliness of the American social welfare system. Land attends community college, raises her daughter, and works part-time, all while battling bureaucratic indifference. She negotiates a dizzying array of hoops and suffers grumps in grocery check-out lines who demand her gratitude for their benevolence. The system is intentionally designed to prevent people in need from receiving help. Land stitches together a patchwork quilt of aid to feed and care for her toddler daughter so that she can work; no wonder she suffers from panic attacks. In our affluent country, Americans are quick to judge and penalize the poor; not even hungry kids get a pass. Government programs are inadequate so religious and charitable organizations pick up the slack. Of course, few of the people Land encounters embody a charitable mindset. The pervasive lack the author describes most keenly is the lack of respect accorded to her by others.
I’ll gladly watch the Netflix show. Still, I have quibbles with Land the author, who seems to have boundary issues she seems unaware of (i.e., her mother’s decision to live in Europe, her child’s father’s availability, her predilection for wearing her employers’ clothing. To learn more about boundaries, see Carolyn Hax in The Washington Post). This would be a better book if Land articulated her psychological growth clearly. She’s intelligent, but lacks emotional intelligence; her younger self demonstrates little foresight or self-awareness. It is of course the prerogative of the young to make mistakes, but I waited for an older, wiser, Land to demonstrate awareness. I’m dissatisfied with the way she frames her ending, as she attributes her decision to transfer to the writing program in Montana to Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist. Here, inspiration resembles fatalism. In reality, Land makes a hard-nosed calculation — to take on debt. She applies for federal student loans, gambling that it will pay off. Millions of aspiring middle-class Americans roll this same dice; some acknowledgment of this would be welcome. In her case, she scores: Land is now a best-selling author with a Netflix deal. Maid excels at highlighting gaps in social policy and at putting a human face on complex issues. The book is worth it for this alone. We root for her and her daughter. But I wish there had been more self-awareness, more analysis, and I could have skipped the woo-woo fatalism at the conclusion.
Tara Westover’s excellent memoir, Educated, hits all the marks. As a child, Westover was reared (brainwashed?) by fundamentalist parents; her older brother was abusive and her parents ignored all of it. One minute the brother is forcing her head into toilet bowls, the next he’s taking her for ice cream, which is exactly how domestic abusers operate. Westover clawed her way out with little self-pity. She highlights her younger self’s misinformed beliefs and walks us through her evolution. Call it maturity, call it an education — in either case, it’s refreshing to watch her grow as her perceptions change. Westover overcame a disadvantaged childhood, whereas Land, an adult of 28-32, makes perplexing choices that disadvantage her and her daughter. Things turn out okay, so Land thanks…. the universe. Westover digs in, works hard, and doesn’t apologize. I find Westover’s to be the better book.
Rating: *** 1/2 Maid; ***** Educated.
2. Homeland Elegies by Ayad Akhtar (2020)
In the run-up to the 2016 election, a son (in this novel he’s named Ayad Akhtar) and his father disagree over Trump. Ayad’s parents, both Muslim, were born in Pakistan and attended medical school there before emigrating to America. His father established himself as a renowned cardiologist, and, for a short time, served as Trump’s physician. He claims he saw much to admire in the man. Ayad’s novel is a sharp, humorous, intellectual critique of America dissecting some of what ails us. There’s a fraught episode shortly after 9/11 when Ayad’s car breaks down in Scranton, Pennsylvania. Each vignette describes various American addictions: a Muslim investment broker explains America’s addiction to debt; Ayad hilariously describes his own romantic/sexual obsession, warts and all; another chapter focuses on a medical malpractice lawsuit that wears on his father, who seeks relief via colorful addictions of his own. Oh, and there’s a fascinating bit about how Robert Bork changed America — aside from that failed Supreme Court nomination. As the book ends, Ayad reflects on what it means to feel caught between identities. He’s not Pakistani, nor an observant Muslim, but whenever he engages in that most American of pastimes — reflecting on what ails America — he’s told “go back to where you came from.” His mother eulogizes her homeland and her past. But the elegy Akhtar writes is an ode to his country, this troubled America that has somehow lost its way. It’s fitting to grieve for what is lost. Akhtar’s grief is expressed as a rant, as humor, as the poignant, searing anecdote, and as a thought-provoking reflection. It’s freedom of expression at its best.
Rating: ****
3. Olga Dies Dreaming by Xochitl Gonzalez (2022)
I’m a terrible person, Olga says, and while she steals from the rich to give to …. herself, she isn’t truly terrible, not really. At least, we, her forgiving readers, are willing to overlook her shenanigans. This book zips along, from weddings of the rich and famous, to Washington, D.C., from Brooklyn, to Puerto Rico. I enjoyed learning about another culture, including all the pop culture references that were alien to me, but these helped center Olga in her culture and helped me appreciate how she derives meaning and pleasure from her community. I learned about Puerto Rico and feel ashamed to admit how much about it I didn’t know. There’s a touch of darkness in the book, but I expected it to go to a darker place than it did. Overall, the book is entertaining and thought-provoking, the perfect mix for an enjoyable read. Olga’s brother, Prieto, has his complications but loves his daughter; Olga’s boyfriend, Matteo, is the real Robin Hood and so the men here are the characters with heart, which is a nice twist. This is a fine debut. ****