AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A FACE PDF
"Lucy Grealy's ruthless self-examination, rich fantasy life, and great derring-do inform this powerful memoir about the premium we put on beauty and on a woman's face in particular. It took Lucy twenty years of living with a distorted self-image and more than thirty reconstructive. Editorial Reviews. custom-speeches.com Review. At age nine, Lucy Grealy was diagnosed with a Autobiography of a Face - Kindle edition by Lucy Grealy. Download it. Complete summary of Lucy Grealy's Autobiography of a Face. eNotes plot summaries cover all the print Print; document PDF. This Page Only · Entire Study.
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26 quotes from Autobiography of a Face: 'Sometimes the briefest moments capture us, force us to take them in, and demand that we live the rest of our liv. Autobiography of a Face by Lucy Grealy in DOC, FB3, RTF download e-book. Read or Download Free Autobiography of a Face by clicking bellow. Download - Books LibraryYour browser indicates if you've visited this link.
How does the idea of creating a self through writing reconcile itself to the way in which illness returns one so resolutely to the forces of anatomy? This essay will address such questions through discussion of Autobiography of a Face, Lucy Grealy's account of a nearly twenty-year attempt to surgically restore a jaw lost to cancer. In this narrative of disfiguring disease, Grealy does more than rewrite the "script" of female or disabled identity, as if the body were simply inert, "raw material" written on by cultural assumptions.
While she does foreground the idea that selfhood is in part narrated by such forms of storytelling as movies, television shows, and medical discourse, she also insists that the body exerts its own force, emphasizing the combination of language and body in the formation of self.
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Indeed, Grealy suggests that thinking in terms of "twoness" at all--of "body" and "mind" as discrete, if connected, entities--falsely separates what are interpenetrating and mutually constitutive aspects of self. Instead, she demonstrates that her sense of self is inseparable from the condition of her face, even if, or especially because, that face is also subject to patriarchal attitudes toward female [End Page ] beauty and sexuality.
Grealy writes not as a passive body onto which otherness, in the form of gender or deformity, has simply been pasted, but rather as a uniquely lived body enmeshed in social practice, family circumstance, and private desire. To the degree that we cannot detach her narrative from her disease, Grealy suggests that there is also no way to disentangle the physical from the psychical--from that thinking mind or writerly consciousness we discover in Autobiography of a Face.
Transformations: The Journal of Inclusive Scholarship and Pedagogy
She is her body, so far as we come to know her through her text. Or as she declares, "my face, my 'self'" It was always changing, swollen after a surgery or sinking in on itself after a surgery had failed.
There was the year that she walked with a cane and someone told me it was because they had taken a chunk of her hip to graft into her jaw. Everyone knew that Lucy was the poet. I wrote short stories. I thought we were not so far apart, but when I waved to her in passing or said hello in the cafeteria, she would look at me blankly for a minute and then look away as if we had never met.
Lucy Grealy was much too cool for the likes of me, a girl from Tennessee who did not go to clubs in the city. I graduated from college early and went home to Nashville, where I put my liberal-arts education to use as a line cook in a restaurant.
Soon after I received my letter of acceptance from the M. Her handwriting was small and oddly scrawny. She said that when our mutual friend Jonathan Wilks had first told her that I had gotten into Iowa, she was disappointed because she wanted to be the only Sarah Lawrence person to be admitted. But then he had also told her that I was going out early to find an apartment, and if this was the case would I find one for her as well? She reminded me that she was on a very limited budget.
It never occurred to me to tell her no. Lucy had the pull of celebrity, and while she had always ignored me, I was flattered to be asked for help.
Besides, she would be the only person I knew in Iowa. When I got home, I wrote and told Lucy that we would be roommates. We watched as the hills of Tennessee flattened out and the trees gave way to fields until finally we were driving on a tabletop covered in corn, the highway making a neat cut through the middle.
It was late August and scorching hot. We were sticky from sweat and all the candy we had eaten on the way. We pulled up to the house on Governor Street and found the front door open wide.
The place was completely empty and the linoleum floor was wet with Pine-Sol.
I stood at the threshold, not entirely sure about just walking in. I called her name from the door. She shot out from the back bedroom with a howl, was through the living room and up into my arms, leaping up onto me, her arms locked around my neck, her legs wrapped around my waist, 95 pounds that felt no more than She was crying into my hair, squeezing her legs tighter.
It was not a greeting as much as it was a claim: She was staking out this spot on my chest as her own, and I was to hold her for as long as she wanted to stay.
There was never such a little back, and I felt it heave and sob. I had thought something horrible, only something truly outside my understanding of bad things, could drive this girl into my arms. She pulled back to look at me. She kissed me and smiled and cried again. I do not remember our love unfolding, that we got to know each other and in time became friends. I only remember that I walked through the door and it was there, huge and permanent and first.
I felt I had been chosen by Lucy, and I was thrilled. I was 21 years old and very strong. She had a habit of pitching herself into my arms like a softball without any notice.
She liked to be carried.
Autobiography of a Face Quotes
Lucy had a genius for friendship. She was able to offer up the deepest part of herself over and over again to people she liked, and in return, we were willing to do anything for her.
That was her gift: Lucy had gone to the local auction her first night in town, and there she had met a man who was handsome and twice her age.
He had given her a ride in his sports car and then taken her home and made love to her. For three days, she had waited in our duplex for me to arrive. We had both made it through high school without a single date. We had both had our first kiss from the same boy in college a sainted and tender soul who must have made it his business to kiss the girls who would otherwise have graduated unkissed. Lucy had infinitely more flair than I did.
Autobiography of a Face by Lucy Grealy - PDF free download eBook
She had had adventures that were, if not sexual, at least sexy. And now she was having sex. Lucy continued off and on with Jude for the two years we were in school. She came home early most mornings looking rumpled and calm. In those days, she had a four-by-four gauze pad folded and taped to the side of her jaw that she wore constantly.Very fast. The E-mail message field is required. We would dance for hours, dance until our feet ached from the linoleum floor, at which point Lucy would go and get in the tub Lucy, skinny, was always freezing and could most often be found in the bath.
She would write her way to wholeness and to a more stable and acceptable sense of identity amidst a fluctuating physical appearance and dominant cultural constructions of her as an object or as an incomplete person.
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