Maggie Smith is a well-known poet (I've learned) and has survived a difficult divorce; both those facts are important in her new memoir You Could Make This Place Beautiful. However, you don't have to like reading poetry, or have suffered a divorce or any other life tragedy, to like and appreciate Smith's recent book.
Her prose book is written in a series of vignettes, often shorter than a page, starting with her discovery of her husband's infidelity, through marriage therapy, financial and vocational worries, and finally alone, to care for her young son and daughter. This style makes the book easy to read and more than that, to appreciate.
Mothers will respond to Smith's focus on her children. As she works to keep herself centered through hard times, she always tries to avoid bitterness, both for herself and the kids.
I"m going to copy below the poem that gives the book its title. Reports say it "went viral" and thus, may have led to the downfall of her marriage. My short take on the poem is that even though the world contains terrible things, we all have the power to "make this place beautiful," if we try.
From a reviewer: Smith’s words will bring comfort to many simply by showing readers that they are not alone, and that navigating this world is hard. Smith does so in a way that is exceptionally incisive and authentic, leading to nothing less than an exceptional reading experience.
Thanks very much, Di, for the recommendation.
Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.
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