Poser: My Life in Twenty-Three Yoga Poses by Claire Dederer
This is one of my favorite memoirs I’ve ever read. Dederer describes the pressures of hipster parenting incredibly well. The story spans several years as she has two babies, moves from Seattle to Boulder and back, and becomes increasingly interested in yoga as exercise and philosophy. She also deals with some issues from her family of origin: her parents separated without divorcing in the 70’s, and her mother went to live with another man. I really related to her struggles with perfectionism. Here’s a great long quote that kind of encapsulates the central problem Dederer begins the book with:
We were a generation of hollow-eyed women, chasing virtue. We, the mothers of North Seattle, were consumed with trying to do everything right. Breast-feeding was simply the first item in a long, abstruse to-do-list: cook organic food, buy expensive wooden toys, create an enriching home environment, attend parenting lectures, sleep with your child in your bed, ensure that your house was toxin-free, use cloth diapers, carry your child in a sling, make your own baby food, dress your child in organic fibers, join a baby group so your child could develop peer attachments. And don’t quit your job. But be sure to agonize about it. And enjoy an active sex life. But only with your spouse! Also, don’t forget to recycle.
Goodness ruled me. I was thirty-one. All the moms I knew, at least the ones who were my age and lived in my zip code, lived by this set of rules. It was a variant form of that oldie, perfectionism, but without the hang-ups about appearances. We didn’t want to look good. We wanted to be good. We wanted a kind of moral cleanliness to touch our lives.
When I read those lines I was hooked. By the end I felt like I had learned and grown alongside Dederer, and that’s a feeling you love to get from a memoir.
The yoga stuff, though it was so central to the story and to Dederer’s evolution, was probably the least interesting part of the book to me personally. Especially Dederer’s hand-wringing about whether Western yoga is cultural appropriation. Mostly the classes she attends and the poses she describes seem to serve as a metaphor for releasing the tension in her life. As a metaphor it worked pretty effectively. I guess I’m proof that you don’t have to be interested in yoga to enjoy this book.