She said, “It’s almost as if my parents were wolves. Except they raised me not to hunt, but to think I’m ‘stupid.’ I’ve lived ‘stupid’ like the wolf children lived ‘wolf.
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fifty-two
“So, I went on at her about my eccentric but good-enough childhood and my well-intentioned parents, doing my best to keep from her everything that really troubled me. The experiences I could neither name nor claim, I had channelled into my writing. I saw no reason to repeat them, but I suspect I knew even then that if I did, she would be onto me – and there would be nowhere left for me to hide.
Rather than clearly seeing what was wrong, and laying the responsibility on her parents, she had remained vague, telegraphing her pain to those around her while simultaneously taking the burden upon herself. “You had to shut yourself off,” I tell her. “To protect yourself, but also to protect your parents. You loved your father,” I reminded her. “His behavior didn’t make sense. You took it on yourself instead.
Your historic narratives are assessments of yourself and others - ‘Others are smarter than me’; ‘You can’t trust men’; ‘The future is hopeless.’ These assessments are generally ungrounded, but nonetheless determine what actions you will and will not take.
Committing yourself when you aren’t clear about what you’re committing yourself to is foolish.
She snapped the book closed, put it on the fridge, screwed the Marmite a bit too aggressively tight and put a doily over the jam. “It is difficult to describe now, but you felt like you were seen as a one-dimensional being, as if you had no roots, no culture that could give you depth or complexity. When you did something unusual, it was simply luck, and you would soon be exposed as the fraud and thief you really were.”
“Was it not perhaps a kind of inferiority on your part that was in fact not the fault of the English?”
My mother sighed. “It probably played a role. But if inferiority is a given and you want a healthy country, then the elimination of that inferiority must be part of everybody’s plan, not the naked intensification thereof.
“You must have no illusions about this: those people are masters at the art of belittling. They loosen in you a weathervane of hate. They decapitate you with one sentence, with a single adjective sink deadly poisonous teeth into you. You fight futilely for your life . . .”