Don’t get me wrong – it’s not the best book or even the best
autobiography I’ve ever read. Ole Marlee’s pretty taken with herself, offering up
uncountable long-winded, sycophantic rants from friends and colleagues about
how beautiful, charming, genuine, and professional she is. I’ll give her those,
since she’s not a writer by trade (and sorry to say, neither apparently is
Betsy Sharkey, her ghost on this project). She jumps back and forth without
regard to continuity or flow. I could do without the frequent detailed references
to her sex life, too, but that might just be me.
My point here is that it’s not a book I would recommend as a
good read. But I would definitely recommend it to anyone who wants to
understand a bit about living with limitations in general and the deaf world,
in particular.
Just don’t cherry-pick. If you pick up this book, read the
whole thing. Her efforts to build a life that includes being deaf in a hearing
world aren’t confined to a special chapter or occasional footnotes, because
they’re not so confined in her life. Her deafness is part of the fabric and
flavor of her life and in the book as in her life, it’s inextricable.
Ironically, I suppose it’s the fact that Marlee and her
collaborator didn’t create great literature here that makes it a valuable read.
It’s honest, if frequently overblown, and it offers a window into a life well
lived in spite of obstacles. Marlee Matlin
is a force of nature who has alternately inspired and outraged both the deaf community
and the hearing world. For reasons that frequently say more about the world
than about Marlee.
I usually only recommend books that stand on their own as…
well, books. So let me be clear, here. I recommend you read this book simply because
you’ll learn from it. I know I did.
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