Bright Precious Thing

March 23, 2020
Pulitzer Prize–winning critic Caldwell (New Life, No Instructions), formerly of the Boston Globe, shares snippets from her life in an empowering nonlinear memoir about feminism; losing a best friend to cancer; suffering sexual assault and harassment; and loving her dogs. The decade-hopping narrative is framed by Caldwell’s relationship with Tyler, her neighbor’s five-year-old daughter who often stops by Caldwell’s place to chat. Caldwell, who never married or had kids, discusses finding strength in the women’s movement in the 1970s, forging sisterly bonds in the fight for equality, and, more recently, contending with the Trump presidency. “I am an educated, self-sufficient feminist,” she writes. “I am Donald Trump’s worst nightmare.” As she did in her memoir Let’s Take the Long Way Home, Caldwell honors her friendship with late author Caroline Knapp, a fellow ex-drinker “who might have been my twin.” The book’s most arresting sections are about the sexual trauma and harassment that Caldwell has experienced, including being raped as a teenager. Throughout, Caldwell celebrates female resilience and basks in her love of her pet Samoyeds. This pleasant if slight entry works best as a companion to Caldwell’s previous memoirs.

May 1, 2020
A glistening reflection on how the women's movement profoundly influenced the Pulitzer Prize winner's life. Raised in the Texas Panhandle, "a stronghold of Protestant churches and Republican politics," Caldwell knows her life could've easily played out differently. She began college at Texas Tech in 1968, just as the first wave of feminism caught fire. Then she transferred to the University of Texas, located in Austin, deemed the "the den of iniquity" by her mother. It was there, in that "countercultural hotbed," that she attended her first women's liberation rally. Though Caldwell was clearly never wired for Stepford life, she superbly demonstrates how the women's movement was a beacon that led her to fully embrace her equality and autonomy. Not that these things were easily won. She suffered sexual harassment and assault as well as rape, and she had an illegal abortion in Mexico when she was 19. She confronted frequent sexism in academia and battled alcoholism (the latter features prominently in Caldwell's bestselling memoir, Let's Take the Long Way Home). Jumping from her childhood and young adulthood in Texas to her present life in Massachusetts, the author revisits a variety of seasons and scenarios, but the presence of feminism is always evident. "The women's movement gave me a reclamation of self I had found nowhere else," she writes, "and I don't like imagining my life without it." Caldwell pays tribute to some of the men in her life, including her father, her therapist, and her longtime AA buddies, and her love of dogs is also readily apparent. One of the unexpected driving forces of the narrative is an ambrosial, 5-year-old girl named Tyler, a neighbor who seems to effortlessly embody the feminist ideals the author has spent decades cultivating. Caldwell's fourth memoir sings. It's a song for the ages, but it sounds especially resonant in the #MeToo era.

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Starred review from June 1, 2020
Caldwell's memoirs, including New Life, No Instructions (2014), are the epitome of candor, at once bracingly blunt and appealingly vulnerable. Her latest excursion into the high and low points of her life is occasioned by a winsome and unconventional relationship with Tyler, her five-year-old neighbor. Under Tyler's precocious and guileless gaze, Caldwell rejoices in the simplicity of days spent fantasizing about life on a deserted island and other such exotic journeys, the kind best taken within one's own backyard. She also imparts lessons learned along the way, from her fish-out-of-water childhood in Texas to the heyday of early 1970s feminism to love affairs with men, women, and a few good dogs. Caldwell covers familiar territory, but she does so through the kaleidoscopic lenses of the #MeToo movement and the Trump presidency. These are times that try women's souls, when the definition of feminism is murky at best and when harassment and violence from one's own past may have relevance but may not necessarily be wisely shared on social media. Caldwell's writing, as always, is lush and lyrical, her honesty both captivating and refreshing, qualities that shine anew with a fierce and vibrant luminescence.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2020, American Library Association.)

April 1, 2020

Caldwell, a Pulitzer Prize winner for her book criticism for the Boston Globe, delivers another installment in the series of memoirs she's crafted over the years (New Life; No Instructions). Her latest look at the past that formed her present self delves into the ways feminism shaped (and saved) her life, with attention paid to friendships with other women. Caldwell does not ignore the good men and canine companions she has acquired over the years, but the emphasis here is on the women who have supported her over the course of a lifetime. As the author faces a new stage of life--this time facing losses and intimations of personal mortality--she gracefully calculates what she has gained and learned from each friendship along the way. VERDICT Caldwell presents an affecting, realistic argument for friendships and personal connections, particularly the enduring ones, which help us face what the author calls the "mirage" at the end of our lives. [See Prepub Alert, 1/8/20.]--Th�r�se Purcell Nielsen, Huntington P.L., NY

Copyright 2020 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

February 1, 2020

Pulitzer Prize-winning critic Caldwell follows the New York Times best-selling memoir Let's Take the Long Way Home with a story that relays her journey from west Texas girlhood to feminist and critic. Along the way, she takes us to California and Mexico, reflecting on a key relationship of her youth and showing how cultural moments--particularly the women's movement--have been touchstones shaping her life.

Copyright 2020 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.