Released September 2004 (Scribner) * 256 pages * ISBN 13: 9780743229456
I’ve been procrastinating about writing this review, even though I loved the book, because some of the
I thought about the generations of men on my dad’s side of the family. How far back would I need to go before I found the right person to slap silly? (204)
Fierce begins when Moss is 17, has finished school, and is beginning her adult life. She soon finds herself in a series of abusive relationships as she tries to raise her son to be “normal,” unlike her and her siblings. She deals with her family and relationships and her childhood issues, and eventually ends up going to therapy and AcoA meetings when she realizes she can’t handle everything on her own (this takes the better part of 20 years). Moss comes from poverty and chronicles her struggles as a single mother trying to achieve stability in all facets of her life and having to learn what that means each step of the way. I don’t want to say more about the events in her life because it’s better to read them as they happen.
This is another memoir in which the actual writing is part of the healing process, and Moss talks about this in her book. Moss is very candid, letting you travel her journey as she tries to understand herself, her parents, and her siblings who she tries to save from themselves. She shows her innermost thoughts as she recounts scenes familiar to many. The family gatherings where everything but the actual issue is discussed. The need to solve the problems of other family members. I have many passages marked where I thought “Exactly!” because even if I haven’t been in the situation, I recognize the thinking that led there.
Above all, Moss writes well and beautifully which makes her memoir a pleasure to read despite the events she relates. Her imagery is beautiful, like the description of the despair of dealing with all of the baggage of her family and childhood:
It seemed pointless to keep doing what I was doing. I had been trying to dig out of my ramshackle past with a teaspoon, and Dad’s death had heaped on a fresh load of rubble.(111)
I particularly like her honesty as she recounts approaching therapy when she was finally ready:
Fear sent me back to my second counseling appointment. Fear that I might actually die from this heartache, either by accident or on purpose. I was embarrassed that my life was so completely out of my control. I didn’t understand how I had gotten into such a hopeless situation. On my own, I couldn’t see a way out. (177)
This memoir shows what it is like to be sent out in the world from an alcoholic home. It is honest but without self-pity and well worth reading. I know I’ll be reading my copy again.
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