Nov
24
Book Review: Things the Grandchildren Should Know by Mark Oliver Everett
2008 at 4pm Posted by Rebecca Joines Schinsky
I received this book from the Library Thing Early Reviewers program.
Recently published October 14, 2008
Things the Grandchildren Should Know is the story of Mark Oliver Everett, the musician behind the indie rock band Eels. Everett tells us from the opening pages that he intends to be forthright, and he certainly succeeds in doing so and presenting his life story as it happened, unembellished, with great honesty and humility.
This isn’t the story of a famous guy. It’s just a story of a guy (who occasionally finds himself in situations that resemble a famous guy’s life). There’s an inherent ME, I’M SO IMPORTANT thing about doing this that makes me uncomfortable. But I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think it happened to be a peculiar story. I’m not so important.
For statements like this, I loved Everett’s voice from the get-go. He is a little uncomfortable with the idea of writing his memoir and the perceived self-importance readers may assume is involved in undertaking such a task, and that is an unusual and refreshing thing to discover. I believed what he said, and I finished the book without having to wonder how much of it was made up. That’s an uncommon gift in a genre in which it is generally assumed that writers embellish their stories to make them more entertaining and compelling.
Everett grew up in northern Virginia in a home in which there were no rules. His parents expected him and his older sister Liz to learn things the hard way and to, essentially, take care of themselves. There was little communication, affection, or family support.
My father was so uncommunicative that I thought of him the same way that I thought of the furniture. It was just there. The rare times when he did become animated were fascinating for me and my sister. It was just so infrequent and unexpected.
While his sister Liz deals with this emotional neglect and its subsequent depression by cycling through boyfriends, experimenting with drugs, and making multiple attempts at suicide, Mark tries desperately to find his place in various groups and at school, but nothing fits….until he begins to write music. After he discovers his father dead of a heart attack, Mark, aching to get as far away from his family and their dysfunction as possible, moves to Los Angeles to pursue his music.
Bob Dylan said that, when he was young, he had a secret sense of his destiny. I wish I had something like that, but I didn’t. At all. All I had was an aching sense of desperation and an acute cluelessness—a nasty combination. I didn’t have any idea what the hell I was doing and was only doing it out of not knowing what else to do.
Following his move to L.A., Everett experiences the ups and downs typical of the “I moved to Hollywood to make it big” story. We seem him lonely and depressed, cycling through his own growing collection of crazy girlfriends, then elated and joyful as he celebrates a success that couldn’t come sooner. We see him recording experimental tracks in his closet at home and struggling to maintain his artistic integrity when he does make it big; and we see his friendships and business relationships grow and change as he continues to ride the highs and lows of up-and-coming rock stardom.
The story of Everett’s musical career and artistic development is interesting, but the real heart of What the Grandchildren Should Know lies in Everett’s exploration of his family life. When Liz is eventually successful in her attempts to end her life, we see him mourn for her and struggle to balance his personal sorrow with his increasing professional success. When his mother is diagnosed with terminal cancer and he returns to Virginia to care for her, we are with him in the room as he watches her die, and we witness his decision to celebrate the life he has left.
I had become acutely aware of the fact that I was a living, breathing person, and it was not always going to be that way.
Throughout the text, Everett describes the ways in which his life experiences and their attendant revelations affect his music, and he speaks eloquently and honestly about his decisions to stand beside his vision, to not sell out for commercial success, and to learn from the hard times. Though he becomes a successful, critically acclaimed musician, Everett continues to deal with loneliness and depression, but he finds ways to channel it into his music, and the last sections of this memoir make it clear that he maintains an underlying sense of hope and survival and a determination to celebrate life in all its messiness.
And if I’m such a nonbeliever, why do I keep catching myself sitting on the back porch with my head tilted toward the night sky, talking to Liz and my mom and dad?
I loved Things the Grandchildren Should Know because it was so refreshingly honest and real. Everett’s story is, as he says, “peculiar,” but he tells it in a straightforward fashion without any of the “Hey! Look how weird my life is!” factor that accompanies many memoirs today. He turns his personal tragedies into opportunities for growth and self-examination and creation, and he does so without being self-congratulatory, smug, or boastful.
Reading this memoir, it is easy to imagine you are sitting in a bar with Everett, hearing his story over a pitcher of beer, while a struggling indie band rocks out a few feet away. He is, at turns, thoughtful, insightful, witty, and funny, and he’s telling a story you definitely want to hear. 4.5 out of 5.
Related posts:















Wow, that sounds like a good one. I wasn’t crazy about the last book I got from LT.
Great review. This doesn’t sound like a book that I likely would think to pick up on my own, but your review makes me think it might be one for the wish list!
Holy cow – what a nice review. This isn’t a book I ever would have chosen on my own, but after reading your review, I’ll be picking it up. Thank you!
[...] reviewed two books this week, Things the Grandchildren Should Know and Testimony, both of which I read the previous week…well, I read Testimony in one sitting [...]