Smacked

Saturday, June 30, 2007

Smacked

It’s not often that I do book reviews, but every once in a while, a good book merits it.

Melinda Ferguson’s book, Smacked, is more than just the tale of a junkie finding redemption through an iron-will to survive. It is a story that is so brutally honest in its retelling that the only hope the reader can cling to, is that the story is written in the first person, allowing a glimmer of hope to weave though the destructive spiral of an addict into the depths of a personal hell.

Ferguson’s ability to recount her feelings of desperation and the salvation her fixes bring is as remarkable as her willingness to bare her soul with all its flaws, unaware of the extent to which her authenticity enables the reader to fiercely root for her, no matter how low she falls or to what lengths she attempts to push us away, as she did everyone who ever loved her or saw glimpses of her startling potential.

Unlike the frauds and the fakes, like James Frey, who was publicly smacked down by Oprah after he embellished his drug addicted past in A Million Little Pieces to make himself appear more heroic through clichéd bravado, Ferguson succeeds because of her uncompromising honesty and heartbreaking self awareness, that determinedly glows through her darkest moments of despair.

Ferguson’s wry candor, intelligence and rebellious non-conformity, give her license to mock the more blatant aspects of rehab, the pithy slogans and the appeals to higher powers, and all the other cute and cultish behaviors that make rehab programs all too easy to dismiss, by acknowledging the finer aspects of genuine community that can only be shared by people who truly understand the powerful pull of addiction.

In one of the books memorable moments, laced with self-doubt and uncertainty, Ferguson berates herself, “I am of the opinion that no-one will give a continental shit about this life of mine, this book I pretend to write. I mean who will want to read about the sick, dark secrets of some scaly junkie who got lost in hell and then went to vegetate at her mother’s house. Shoo wow! That sounds like first-class best-seller material.” But that candid acknowledgement is on page 251, and at a point at which no one in their right mind could put the book down. Despite the sly manipulation, we already know that Ferguson is a pro, and we already love her for it, and are willing, immediately, to forgive her.

Perhaps the most tear-inducing moment in a book that tears at the heart from the get-go, is Ferguson’s assessment of maternal instincts. She begrudgingly perceives that her self-awareness of her reality and her willingness to allow her ex-husband to continue to raise her children, rather than she, are in their best interests. Acutely aware of the accusing judgments of an unforgiving society, what she sees as possibly a Mommie Dearest decision is her Meryl Streep moment in Sophie’s Choice. What she perceives as selfishness is actually a profoundly generous wisdom that, even at the book’s end, is unclear that she has comprehended.

More than anything, Ferguson’s tale, paradoxically set against a backdrop of the demise of apartheid and the re-emergence of a new, free South Africa, without once being preachy or self-indulgent, demonstrates how fragile the line between self-confidence and self-doubt; self-awareness and denial; addiction and recovery; whore and housewife, and most of all, how easy it is to underestimate the power of self-preservation in spite of overwhelming odds.

Smacked is a sharp, face-reddening reality check for anyone who dares to live outside the safety zone.