Dani Shapiro

On Generosity

May 18th, 2010

A couple of years ago I taught a course on memoir at Wesleyan University, and I noticed that many of my students (otherwise smart and generous people) were approaching the books I assigned them--some of my favorite modern memoirs!--with a jaundiced eye.  Why should we believe this? They seemed to be asking.  Why should we care? I chalked their responses up to the recent kerfuffles about made-up memoirs, what I have come to think of as pathological memoirs, in which the writers purposefully set out to dupe readers.  But as time has worn on, I've found myself mulling over some different theories about generosity--not just when it comes to reading memoirs, but when it comes to reading and writing--both fiction and non-fiction.

What does it mean to be generous?  To read generously?  To write generously?  Does it imply a kind of blindness, or dulling of the senses, or stupidity?  That's what our culture would sometimes have us think.  Opening a book with a sense of excitement and exploration--of hopefulness--rather than with a skeptical show me attitude, requires effort.  Hope takes more effort than skepticism.  Generosity requires greater rigor than approaching a book with a defensive stance.

This is even more important when it comes to writing.  When I sit down to write, I have to systematically eliminate all the nasty, judging, doubting voices in my head.  They crowd in the room all around me, threatening to take over.  Who do you think you are? They taunt me.  Why do you think you have anything to say? Why should we--why should anybody--care? This voices are the enemy of generosity.  And really, though I like to think of them in some metaphysical way as coming from outside myself, they come from deep within me.  From a dark place I always need to keep my eye on.  Perhaps it is most difficult for us to be generous to ourselves--and it all radiates outward from there.



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  • Colin David Reese

    “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us, it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” The above speech has been attributed to Nelson Mandela but was written by Marianne Williamson who is the author of other similar material.
  • Jerry
    Self pity is very destructive, as is being too hard on yourself. Everyone will go through these things in life, some never get out of it. If someone does, they will have things to say about it, but to what audience? Those with similar experiences can relate, but those without can not, neither can those too scared to look. If someone is no good to themselves, they will be no good to anyone else either, especially those depending on them.
    I was told something very powerful, "Your audience will feel whatever you feel". Remember that anytime you pick up a pen, and of corse you won't always, which is the spice of life!
  • Dani, as you mentioned, it's indeed a challenge for most of us to conjure a bit of generosity toward ourselves, and sometimes even more difficult to find anything decent to say about one another. It's as if there is only so much success to go around, and if we lavish other writers with compliments, we're using up the pot. It's taken me a long time to understand that where there is one compliment, there can be others, and I can give them or receive them, and there will still be ten million left. So allow me to say great essay, Dani -- and thank you for the reminder to be kind.
  • halliegay
    Reading generously means giving away our critiquing self. I think you nailed it about getting rid of all the nasty judging doubting voices in the head. Some of us have a load full, I think that is why I could never write fast, had to fight them all along the way, through every period and comma, and then, by the time a piece was written was too exhausted. You, on the other hand, have been victorious. I am very proud of you.
  • GG--I'm so happy to see a comment from my old dear friend here on my blog--and of course your voice comes shining through so clearly. I hope those nasty judging doubting voices have mellowed a bit. I had a full load too -- still do on many days -- but have tried and tried over the years to quiet them down, if not silence them.
  • Lindsey O'Connor
    I find I need to work often at speaking as kindly and generously to myself as I do to others. Why is it that when we sit down to create we can become so unkind, vitriolic on a bad day. The inverse is pride and that bodes poorly for a writer as well. Generosity of spirit Dani may be the perfect word to bring to our work as writers, and readers.
  • Not a bad idea to have some tee shirts made up -- or even just index cards: generosity of spirit. Thanks.
  • Jerry
    We all can be snide and sharp, it's part of being human. We also are individuals, existing in an ever crowded world where individualism is not celebrated. I do not fear or ignore anything I feel, I work to understand why. I will read anything with an open mind, but I have a right to my opinion whatever it might be. So does everyone else, the key is respect.
    It's the writer's job to be able to get his/her ideas across in the manner desired, but it's the writers fault if the attempt fails. The author has to know his/her audience, the wrong audience isn't going to be supportive. Also, preaching never helps any idea. I'd say "open minded" better applies here than "generous", but generous is a more emotional term, more likely to draw feelings of guilt. I see your point, but don't agree with the remedy.


  • Fair enough, Jerry, but I think the difference between "open-minded" and "generous" can be viewed as largely semantic. At least I view it that way. When I say generous I don't mean without discernment.
  • annhite
    Hope does take more work and determination. And truly loving myself is the toughest of all. But each morning I get up with a fresh slate. Now, there's a little bit of hope.
  • Good to hear that, Ann. Also, as I tell my son, you can start your day over at any time. As many times as you need to. So it can always be morning, and a fresh slate, in a sense. Thanks for writing.
  • As you say above, hope does indeed take more effort than skepticism. (This is why faith--be it in a religion or oneself or another person or a promise-to-be-kept is something special, something to be celebrated.) But it seems to me sometimes that as a culture we've gotten lazy and decided to celebrate instead what's easy; thus, the elevation of snark.

    I am saddest about this when it's disguised as intellectualism. Instead of admitting that we are too cowardly to hope and feel, we claim to be too smart, too analytical, to just enjoy a text--to just jump in and let that text take us where it wants to (even if that's someplace unexpected or scary or just not where we want to be.

    The urge to read with a jaundiced eye is, I think, producing a culture of bad readers. And worse, sad readers. Me, I'd rather be a dupe--giddy when I open the cover of a book or open my laptop to type--than be already "over it" before it has begun.


  • I'm with you on the elevation of snark. I hope, as a culture, that we're slowly moving away from it -- snark has been around for a good long while and the pendulum is (hopefully) swinging...
  • sandy marsh
    You know, it's funny. I hadn't seen David Lynch's "Elephant Man" in quite a while. I was with my significant other (catherine) a few nights ago. She hadn't seen the film. I thought would appreciate the dark psychological undertones Lynch evokes so well in his best work.
    The film had always resonated for me because I'd always been touched to tears by 2 separate scenes every time. Dani, you know me (well, knew me) and emotions evoking tears were usually an area that I felt I "had no there, there." And I would beat myself up for not having same. And yet, I would use the sense memory from this film to "get me there...or at least in the realm of "there" when still working as an actor.
    Point of all this goes back to your usage of "generosity" which is really about generosity toward oneself, which, for a self-tormenting jew, can easily be reflected as selfishness.
    When I watched this film the other night, and those scenes came up (the first is with Anthony Hopkins wife and her losing it at the dignity Merrick held as she tried to reconcile this dignified being with the horrible cards he'd been dealt). Merrick had a line that caused her to lose it and I never FULLY appreciated it's resonance to myself (it wasn't made conscious yet).
    Merrick is talking of his mother (showing Hopkin's wife the beautiful locket photo) and he speaks of her beauty and then says something to the effect of "I tried so hard to be good..." And I think that when I heard the line this time I realized that... I... was good. And that so much of my life has been trying to overcome the feeling that I haven't been good enough.
    I guess this speaks to what self-acceptance is all about, which is what enables self-supportive self-esteem, which enables....self-generosity.
  • Hey, Sandy. This is lovely and I find myself nodding here. And also wanting to watch "Elephant Man" again. The whole (particularly Jewish? not sure... I think a lot of Catholics would chime in here) idea that feeling generous to the self could be construed as selfishness... that says so much, doesn't it? Thanks for writing this.
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