Marge Piercy – Sleeping With Cats

I don’t know about never judge a book by its cover: if Sleeping With Cats taught me anything, it’s to not judge a book by its title. Or its genre. I almost never read contemporary memoirs – and I certainly do not read books about cats. But this was one of the most vivid, unique, memorable books I’ve read in ages. Perfect for International Women’s Day.

I am very interested in the post war generation of women who were pushing at all the barriers and finding out how far they could go. Piercy grows up an outsider multiple times over – poor and Jewish in harsh mid-century Detroit – but finds her escape in education. From there, she is convinced she will be a writer, and that self-belief keeps her going all through her experiences with love and life. In the 1960s and 70s she is deeply involved in many causes. You get to relive the optimisim, all the hope, all the excitement – as well as all the infighting, disappointments, and ultimate disillusionment.

Throughout it all, what struck me most was her determination to stick to her choices and be accountable for them. She has such amazing self-awareness, integrity and perspective. I often find ‘memoir’ is used as a synonym for ‘self-justifying fake humble-ness’. Piercy would not know the meaning of the word ‘whiney.’

Nothing is off limits here – not her many affairs (men and women), not her full sex life, not her experiments with open marriage. But not in an eeeeeeeewwwwww, get that image-out-of-my-head, sort of way. Nothing is graphic, nothing is indulged. She is not going to apologise for all the experiences which have made her who she is. But nor is she going to make them fodder for gossip.

And her writing is AMAZING. Piercy works in the register where matter-of-factness meets poetry, and it’s incredibly striking. Her experience with abortion, briefly described, is an unforgettable reminder of what can happen when women don’t have that choice.

I would have liked to have known more about her career. She seemed to go from ‘struggling writer hawking around first book’ to ‘two apartments and an assistant’ with more ease than was likely. I thought we might get more of a story of an artist’s development, like an up to date Virginia Woolf’s Writers Diary.

Also, I admit, the cat thing was a problem for me. I totally got how she built these profound relationships with her cats and each of their unique personalities. These were often more meaningful and long-lasting than those she had with people. And why not? But just occasionally, I felt we crossed the line into batty-catty world. One cat always has to watch her doing the rude stuff with her husband. She wanted to put another one into therapy. I’m sure many of you will love cats and you will tell me this is fine. Me, I skimmed the cat bits. Apart from the cat-cuddles. I see how those would be nice.