Truth and Hijacking

Directly following my reading of Lucy Grealy’s Autobiography of a Face I read Ann Patchett’s non-fiction book Truth and Beauty: A Friendship where she writes about how she and Lucy were friends, writers, and as close as sisters. Directly following that, I read Suellen Grealy’s article Hijacked by Grief where she talks about her sister, Lucy, and Ann’s capitalizing on their friendship.

Two things. One, I believe Ann Patchett’s story. Two, I believe that Suellen Grealy hit it on the nose by saying that Ann is nothing like the writer Lucy was. If I had read Suellen Grealy’s article before I read Patchett’s book, I might have felt too guilty to read the book. However, I had an insatiable curiosity about Lucy Grealy after reading her book and was all too happy to read more about her.

Patchett describes the women’s lives on the road to ‘writer-dom’ with steadiness. It’s the same story I’ve heard from many authors. Somehow, although Patchett is being so true to her story, describing herself as the dull ant doing her work, and Grealy as the vibrant grasshopper bringing life to every situation, I found her patronizing, and even at a couple points, defensive. I know people who can be entirely loving and still rub me the wrong way. So, although I got to read what it meant for Grealy to survive the cancer and the subsequent reconstructive surgeries through the eyes of a friend, I had to acknowledge that their relationship was not my ideal. (However, I have spent more time valuing the friendships I hold dear since reading this.) When Grealy revealed her life’s struggles I felt her to be very much ‘like’ me, when Patchett took over Lucy became entirely ‘other.’

I understand that Ann and Lucy loved one another. I believe they used one another as much as they could stand, which for both of them would not be too much. And I am genuinely convinced that their need for one another was entirely deep and inscrutable. However, I feel very much for Suellen Grealy who has come away from the untimely death of her sister to discover this growth, this off-shoot on Lucy’s life. Tragedy is the world’s, and Lucy was in it. And, although they may at times be complimentary, as often Truth and Beauty are at odds.

Lucy's Face

Lucy Grealy’s Autobiography of a Face was not a story about cancer. It was a story about a girl eventually becoming a woman who wanted love yet wasn’t being fulfilled to her satisfaction. Her disfigured face seemed to her the culprit. However, like many people, Lucy’s loneliness and initial understanding of the world left her with the wrong answer.

Lucy was loved and Lucy was learning to love. The simple love of an animal or toy was her easy love. Her childhood friendships were a second love. Mature adult love became elusive. But Lucy found substitutes. She discovered “being good” love and “bravery” love and “medical” love and “sex” love and finally “knowledge” love. Ultimately Lucy is convincingly lovable and unlovable. It’s easy to believe that her face was an obstacle to romantic love, and perhaps a venue towards gracious love.

But Lucy did have cancer at the age of nine. She lived. She had life-long pain. She went home after surgery and then back to school with a large part of her lower jaw missing. Growing up in hospitals almost as much as at home certainly lends itself to another entire realm of development of self view, and world view. The amount that Lucy scrutinizes her own ideas and then the ways she copes with them is formidable.

The ability Lucy had to express herself was a wonderful gift. Her decision to write a story about her story was bold. It’s Lucy’s perception of luck and relativity and hypocrisy that seals her life’s most extraordinary work. The only justice that I can do is to refer back to her own writing. I am thankful to have read what she extracted from her life experiences and although the creation is hers, somehow I feel that Lucy and I might understand one another just a little. But, even if we wouldn’t, I appreciate my own needs in a new light and will consider others’ differently, as well.