An extraordinary theory of objects A memoir of an outsider in Paris

Stephanie LaCava

Book - 2012

A series of illustrated essays that unfold in cinematic fashion, LaCava's book explores her girlhood in the Parisian suburb of Le Vésinet, where her feelings of anxiety and depression are lifted when she begins to discover the uncommon, uncelebrated beauty in common objects.

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Subjects
Published
New York : [Enfield : Harper ; Publishers Group UK [distributor]] c2012.
Language
English
Main Author
Stephanie LaCava (-)
Edition
1st ed
Physical Description
205 p. : ill. ; 19 cm
Bibliography
Includes bibliographical references.
ISBN
9780061963896
Contents unavailable.
Review by Booklist Review

Displaced as a young teen to Parisfor her father's job, LaCava collected peculiar objects for therapeutic comfort from the unhappiness she found there. If you take her at her word, her curious little book is based on her strangeness and odd habits, and she is exorcising any remaining demons by creating a written record of that difficult time. Interrupting the narrative and her interruptions sometimes run half a page in length, with her clear intention to do so made obvious are researched footnotes for the favorite precious objects that the author has encountered, outlining their history and lore: a kaleidoscope, a glass eyeball, a mushroom picked during a late-night walk. LaCava's descriptions are well matched by Matthew Nelson's delicate line drawings. In the end, what cleverly fills the honeycomb of LaCava's own story one that feels more special than upsetting for its strangeness is a compassionate, evocative biography of seemingly aberrant things and a collection of historical anecdotes that most readers would never otherwise learn, let alone find gathered all together in one small (but not diminishing), deliberate, and careful book.--Bostrom, Annie Copyright 2010 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Fashion writer Lavaca's childhood and teenage years were strange and confounding. The author's family moved from New York to a Parisian suburb in 1993 when she was 12; the next year she suffered a breakdown. Always considered a bit strange as a child, she found solace and a sense of order in collecting objects. She had a passion for ancient mythologies: "I was obsessed with cabinets of curiosities, historical efforts to catalog and control nature's oddities," Lacava writes. As an adult Lacava began looking back over her life "through a narrative illuminated with objects and their respective stories." As the author began researching her objects, she discovered unlikely links between them and "certain people who reappeared throughout the stories" of such objects as a skeleton key found in the backyard of her new home in France; a fiery antique opal necklace found on the sidewalk following a jaunt to a neighborhood sweet shop; a CD containing Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit"; and the camera she always carried on her journeys around France. "For me, it is my story of conquering another world, a place where in order to survive I needed to seek out wonder," Lacava explains. In the end, this is an unusual journey through one girl's material and sometimes painful interior world. (Dec.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Kirkus Book Review

A self-consciously odd coming-of-age memoir in the form of essays about places and objects. A fashion writer and blogger, LaCava suffered some sort of depressive breakdown as a teenage American transplanted to France, but the details are sketchy, particularly in comparison with footnotes that often run longer on the page than the main text. "My strength with the written word," she writes, "is the ability to make unlikely subjects somehow connect, a capacity that has never been my strong suit in life. I had never been patient enough to believe that looking back my sadness would all make sense. But it does now." To the writer, perhaps, but not necessarily to readers, who may also have trouble appreciating the connections she sees. Much of the memoir concerns her adolescent "boredom verging on insanity, locked inside with my little belongings and endless ruminations." Then there are the footnotes on the objects that became talismans, such as a skeleton key she found: "Consider the power of the early locksmith: his still was synonymous with security, and knowledge of his craft was hard to come by, as talented locksmiths didn't want to share their secrets," she writes by way of preamble to an explanation that runs three times as long. Ultimately, LaCava married (which we learn about in the acknowledgements) and learned from a reunion with a French classmate that he (and presumably others) hadn't considered her so troubled, that all kids passed through that difficult stage, but she was correct that the other girls hadn't liked her much. "These sorts of conditions never fully go away," she writes. "I'd presented my childhood as full of whimsy and mystery rather than sadness, so much so that I'd started to believe this version as well." There's a thin line between precocious and overly precious, and this literary debut steps well across it.]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.