Scream: A Memoir of Glamour and Dysfunction by Tama Janowitz (2016)

A memoir by the "Brat Pack" author of Slaves of New York.

Book Review:  When I saw Scream: A Memoir of Glamour and Dysfunction, I'd been thinking of reading the '80s "Brat Pack" writers, Jay McInerny (Bright Lights, Big City), Bret Easton Ellis (Less Than Zero, American Psycho), and Tama Janowitz, so this new release seemed the perfect way to jump into that project. It wasn't. Scream is a good title for this memoir, as in those horror movies with the audience yelling "Don't go into the basement!" But of course our intrepid heroine traipses merrily down the stairs. In this memoir, Janowitz comes off as someone who makes emotional decisions, does what she wants, makes bad choices, and then is angry at the rest of the world when life doesn't go well. Maybe that's the life of an artist, but everyone else in Scream is evil, stupid, dangerous, or a burden (she's reported to Adult Protective Services for her treatment of her very supportive mother, who was a well-respected poet). She notes, "for me, other human beings are a blend of pit vipers, chimpanzees, and ants, a virtually indistinguishable mass of killer shit-kickers, sniffing their fingers and raping." Janowitz even attacks the innocent: in "Ithaca there are vegetarian academics who teach morons at the prestigious university" (where her mother taught for 30 years), and even people she doesn't know (such as friends and family members of acquaintances). No mercy: "When you hear someone talking about someone else who does the same thing you do but is more successful at it than you are, you want to squelch that other person." She acknowledges that she's one of the people "on this planet who irritate others," but doesn't change her behavior -- she's "used to people's anger." It's strange that she hates Catcher in the Rye, since she and Holden Caulfield seem to have a lot in common.

There's also an unpleasant settling of old scores: Janowitz "can't stand" her husband, so she cheats on him; her brother and sister-in-law, she gets them too; her boyfriend's girlfriend, bashes her; her teenage daughter smokes pot and doesn't want to travel to Jordan for a summer program, but Janowitz (now stuck with her daughter for the summer) just needs to "kick [her] behind and talk some sense into her" and so takes her to a psychiatrist -- poor kid. The score-settling extends from her boss at Mademoiselle ("I do not know how stupid she was") to Andy Warhol who didn't buy her gifts at flea markets (but bought her dinner), down to saying nasty things about the daughter of her building's doorman, neighbors, service workers, and flunkies. When she tries to iron but destroys a model's expensive blouse during a photo shoot, she writes a childish and nasty letter blaming everyone else. She has her mother call editors to get her stories published. When her first book fails it's the reviewer's fault, not the writer's (no subsequent books succeeded -- her second book Slaves of New York from '86 is the only one cited on the cover of Scream). Her mother's former colleagues at the university (y'know, the ones teaching the morons?) never invited her to teach there. There's a lot of how life was so much harder back in the day. Despite the subtitle, "A Memoir of Glamour and Dysfunction," the book focuses mostly on the dysfunction, and the glamour mostly seems seedy (19-year old Tama visiting and then sleeping with 63-year old Lawrence Durrell; yes she bashes him for it) or disappointing. I was hoping to get some insights into the writing, how that '80s style was created, but Janowitz doesn't like writing: "Writing, to me, was a living death," because "nothing is happening." She asks, "is that really a fun way to spend  your life ... ?" No insights.

In fairness, some of the time Janowitz may have been trying to be funny, but beyond a few chuckles it wasn't that comedic. So much to say, but this book seems like it was rushed out to make a quick buck. While reading I couldn't help comparing Scream to Patti Smith's two excellent memoirs. Although Janowitz doesn't mention her Brooklyn (Park Slope) penthouse, she does briefly acknowledge the hardships of working class and older people, which I appreciated. Mostly this was just bitter, sad, and disappointing. But I'll still read Slaves of New York. [2 Stars]