
Lately, the best American memoirs of a certain youngish age seem to share most of the same components: the South, fundamental Christianity, a gay friend or protagonist, alcohol and skipping school.
Miss American Pie has all the above in spades, along with confusion and ambivalence about sex ("it's not what I want in my life right now"), a number of high-school marriage proposals, friendship dramas and a horse to whom she tells everything, "Because it was in the woods with my horse and my dog where the searching began and where the question of God first rose in my body as easy as breath." Margaret Sartor's diary begins in 1972, "in the commonly acknowledged worst year of life, the seventh grade," and ends with her leaving her family to start college. Her five years of writing gives us a generous glimpse into a life of typical adolescent angst and often un-typical introspection and sensibility.
She grew up in a town on the Ouachita River in Louisiana, "[not] a very small town, but it's small enough. In the 1970s, [it] was entirely typical of its time and place, more confused than reactionary, a sort of stronghold of befuddlement." During this time, the schools were integrated, church attendance was close to 100%, and a double bourbon could be ordered at 18. Her strategy for making sense of life was to write things down on anything with a margin--church bulletins, grocery lists, diaries--about what she "thought, saw, dreamed of, overheard, worried over, and obsessed upon: God, sex, and the whole messy endeavor of trying to hold [her] own and create [her] own identity." When her life got too dismal, she wrote directly to Jesus, explaining, "I think only God can fill the dark holes of who we are." Along the way, she developed a strong sense of self--"I will not change myself to suit someone else"--and was scared to think she might be ordinary. Early diary entries are predictably brief, although not lacking significance, as in these 1972 notes: March 6--"Didn't make the 8 finalists for cheerleader but Pam and Mary Ann did. Came home and made cookies." March 7--"Four girls were elected cheerleader. Everyone thinks they only picked four to keep Mary Ann off the squad because she's black." Later entries are more thoughtful, dealing with numerous beaus, her parents and her growing depression as she sees a psychiatrist she calls Dr. Coldfish, while she still frets about new Levi's and drill team tryouts.
Margaret's best friend Tommy ("more than a friend . . . my reflection") is a constant, the only person she trusts with her emotions: "I started crying today just in fear that I would lose him." When we read the entry for December 13, 1975--"Tommy & I sat on his patio and talked for an hour or so tonight. I had the feeling a couple of times that he wanted to tell me something but he didn't"--we know what's coming. Complicating their friendship is his friend Jackson, future minister and Margaret's on-again, off-again boyfriend:
February 10, 1975: "Seeing Jackson's car in Tommy's driveway is like seeing a padlock on Tommy's back door."
March 7: "I think I'm going to have to dynamite Jackson's car. It's the only way I can figure out to keep from having to see it parked in Tommy's driveway all the time."
Margaret's diary passages are earnest and passionate, but her teenage Sturm und Drang is leavened with a wry humor:
November 2, 1976: "Jimmy Carter was elected president and Daddy said he won because it was such a beautiful day all over the South. This would seem to suggest a connection between the presidency of the United States and the frizziness of my hair."
December 6, 1976: "Finished
Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee. I think it changed my life, but it didn't exactly improve my mood."
January 4, 1977: "Jackson and I went for a walk. It was drizzly and my hair was flying and crazy and he was loving it. Problem: Jackson loves me to look wild and be tame. Mitch wants me to look tame and be wild. Conclusion: I will never be good at math."
Miss American Pie is revealing and heartfelt, often displaying a wisdom that is rare in many adults. After Jackson spurns Tommy when he comes out, she says, "My heart tells me not to be angry. My heart tells me Jackson has lost more than I know." Sartor has not annotated her diary, but does provide a graceful introduction and epilogue, concluding, "In my youth, in so many ways, I failed, and the world failed me. But I also loved mightily, and was so loved in return. . . . I still pray, only now I mostly listen. And though some of what I hear is sad, some of it is lovely. Some of it became this book." And for that, we are the richer.--Marilyn Dahl