A Stolen Life, Jaycee Dugard
I have always been fascinated with crime and what drives people to it. I read every Ann Rule book I could get my hands on. I considered becoming a criminal psychologist. I studied serial killers and bizarre offenses. I watched made-for-tv movies, and Nancy McKeon's portrayal of Tracey Thurman left a lasting impression on me. Farrah Fawcette? Burn it down, girlfriend! The movie about how M.A.D.D. got started really fired up the J of my Myers-Briggs personality (plus I took it personally that the girl killed by a drunk driver was named Cari, too close to my own sister, Kerry). I can't help it. It's who I am. But most true-crime writing tends to be salacious, almost pornographic, and this one is neither.
People think they want to know all the details of a big crime. Tabloids feed us lines about what Scott Peterson ate for dinner or how many bars Casey Anthony went to. Those tidbits make us feel like we really know what happened, but they can also cheapen a story. That's where A Stolen Life is different. Dugard, as the victim and survivor of kidnapping, rape, and a handful of other crimes can actually tell us what happened, why she didn't escape, how she felt, what she thought. Unlike The Girl In the Box, which I read in middle school, this is an honest account of actual events. Sharing memories, journal entries, and reflections on events, Dugard draws a picture of what her life was like for 18 years behind a fence.
One of the most interesting things about the case is that Dugard was allowed to go out eventually, and even had contact with law enforcement, but never revealed she was held against her will. Most people are familiar with the idea of Stockholm Syndrome, but it is still hard to understand. In context, it was normal for her to comply, blend in, and do what was expected of her. We'd like to think we would make a break for it, to run and scream and escape. Understanding why someone wouldn't is very interesting material.
I'm not sure if I've mentioned here why I am doing this challenge. Besides just liking books and wanting to expand my horizons, I have a few books I would like to write. I am reading to be a better writer. One of these stories is the true story of a horrific crime that went unsolved in my hometown for 20 years. I have not approached the family about it yet because I want to have some text for them to read first. But one thing Stolen has helped me with is the assurance that a crime story can be told that honors the privacy of all the victims and still tells the tale. And, perhaps more importantly, you can do all this and still explain things that seem odd to outsiders- which I feel is very important in the case of my hometown. Context is everything. I want to honor the victim and her loved ones in a way that is rarely seen. So, I'm going to keep this one around to come back to as I pen that story.
It's obvious that Dugard wrote her memoir as part of her post-abduction therapy. At times it is very childish or naive, as one would expect from a girl kidnapped at age 11. It can feel a little schmaltzy at times, too, but not in an off-putting way. Jaycee Dugard is nothing if not honest. This look into her life was both compelling and enlightening, and nothing like the pulp content I used to devour.
Rating this one is difficult. It's been six years since Jaycee's recovery dominated headlines. Without all that attention and fervor, it is easy to be critical of the writing. At the same time, this is penned by a woman with a fifth-grade education, who was closed off from the world for more than half her life, and she still managed to publish something readable. If you are looking for juicy recollections of wild drug and sex binges, this isn't the book for you. If you are interested in gaining perspective on the inner workings of a victim and survivor, this is better than any case study you can find. And because I intend to come back to it for my own writing, a sort of touchstone, I am going to give it four Marias.
No comments:
Post a Comment