In Mary Clearman Blew’s essay “The
Art of Memoir,” she considers the telling of her ancestor’s stories. How much
is really her own projection, and what bearing does that have on the
“rightness” of telling? She sticks to what she knows has happened, at least the
told or documented versions, and declares it when she is speculating. And yet,
she acknowledges that all stories are dependent on their shape, and it is she
who crafts that shape. I listen to stories and read stories. I observe stories
and take part in stories in the making. And I keep busy finding the shape of
those stories. It is all part of understanding this place and finding my place
in it.
