Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me.
In contemporary America, land of tell-all memoirs, self-improvement, 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 person's life can be peeled back before the self vanishes?
In this provocative, enormously witty series of meditations, Ander Monson faces down the idea of memoir, in all its guises, 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 finds the hours he spends trying to get to Gerald R. Ford's funeral more worthy of scrutiny than the event itself. He considers his addiction to chemically concocted Doritos and disappointment in the plain, natural corn chip, and finds that the manufactured, considered 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).