In contemporary America, land of tell-all memoirs and
endless reality television, what kind of person denies the opportunity to
present himself in his own voice, to lead with “I”? How many layers of a life
can be peeled back before the self vanishes?
In this provocative, witty series of meditations, Ander
Monson faces down the idea of the memoir, grappling with the lure of
self-interest and self-presentation. While setting out to describe the
experience of serving as head juror at the trial of Michael Antwone Jordan, he
can’t help veering off into an examination of his own transgressions,
inadvertent and otherwise. He filters his private experience of the public
funeral ceremony for Gerald R. Ford through the music of New Order. He
considers his attraction to chemically concocted Doritos and his disappointment
in the plain, natural corn chip, and finds that the manufactured form, at least
in snacks, is ultimately a more rewarding experience than the “truth.” So why
is America so crazy about accurately confessional memoirs?
With Vanishing Point, Monson delivers on the promise shown in Neck Deep, which introduced his winning
voice and ability to redefine the essay and “puts most memoirs to shame” (Time Out Chicago).
