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Dear Mr. You, by Mary-Louise Parker
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Amazon.com Review
An Amazon Best Book of November 2015: More revealing than most memoirs, more satisfying than a diary, Mary-Louise Parker’s Dear Mr. You is comprised of letters addressed to the men, both fictional and real, in her life. The letters, directed at the ‘you’ are unabated marvels of experience – at times gritty and unpolished, snappy and sad, romantic and heart pounding. There are the letters addressed to her daughter’s future boyfriend that release the snarl of a mother’s love; a raw apology to a cab driver who was the recipient of her rage; her mentor on the cusp of dying from AIDS with “that voice I could have poured on pancakesâ€; the beloved priest of her childhood answers the questions of her children; the lover who said “you would love me until you were ashes.†These moments, congested by the form of a letter, take on a level of unapologetic and unfettered intimacy that is intoxicating to read. Mary-Louise Parker is not just an award winning actress. She is a gutsy, bewitching writer whose stories will make you swoon, induce bawdy laughter, and puncture your deepest emotions. – Al Woodworth Guest Review by Andrew Solomon Photograph by Annie Leibovitz Photograph by Tina Turnbow “Dear Mr. You†comes as a revelation – actually, one revelation after another. Mary-Louise Parker’s book of memoiristic letters to some of the men in her life reads like a collection of first-rate short stories, varied in mood and tone but united by a perspective comprising gratitude, forgiveness, courage, and humor. Parker lives intensely and sees acutely; she has a warrior’s determination and a poet’s insight. I found myself reading this mesmerizing album of portraits like poetry, in fact: only a few letters at a sitting, the better to savor their resonances. Parker recounts transforming episodes with some of her male heroes, among them a movement teacher, her acting mentor, the family priest (“who believed in God and still liked himâ€), the no-nonsense accountant who taught her how money works, the beekeeper next-door, and a former child soldier from Uganda. She depicts love affairs in all their ambivalence and fluctuating passions, and commemorates her most awful romantic relationships in an epistle to Cerberus, the mythical three-headed dog at the maw of Hell. She speculates about the hard-drinking Grandpa she never knew, and relives the relinquishment of her father’s body after his death. He was a three-war veteran with post-traumatic stress disorder who punched holes in the wall, and she misses him too profoundly to convey: “It would be like blue trying to describe the ocean.†Here is the worst imaginable encounter between a pregnant woman and a New York City cabdriver with no idea where he’s going, here, a wishful meditation for a newborn baby boy. Here, even a note of apology to NASA “for repeatedly stating that you were a massive misuse of tax dollars and basically an oversized playground for those who like to wear antigravity suits.†She then admits (as men so rarely do), “I didn’t know what I was talking about.†Parker’s recollections evoke the very nature of memory, their potent images never too fully limned, never lingering over the emotions they incite. “Dear Mr. You†reminds us what a glorious business life can be even at its worst, if you can tug it into the right frame of view. It makes me hope that my young son might grow up to be the sort of fellow worthy of a letter from someone the caliber of Mary-Louise Parker. I cannot imagine anyone worth knowing who would not fall in love with the shimmering vision at the core of this masterful book.
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“Mary-Louise Parker’s Dear Mr. You is straight-up fantastic; a gripping and deeply humane and often hilarious book. It catches glimpses of life at all sorts of unexpected moments, electrifying them with its sharp-eyed astonishment at how absurd and joyous things can get. There’s nothing cheaply-earned about its wonder; nothing sugarcoated in its gratitude.It’s all grit, all messy particulars—full of surprise and full-throated in its song.” (Leslie Jamison, author of The Empathy Exams)“To have an artist accomplished in one genre triumph in another—seemingly out of the blue—is an extraordinary event. Mary-Louise Parker’s Dear Mr. You is a pants-pissingly funny, gut-wrenching meditation on her loving and tormented encounters with the masculine. From grandfather to father to son to the wacky, pre-Burning Man hippie with a loincloth who haunts her at a co-op job to the lover who deserves the coda ‘Sleep tight, little monster.’ Whether honoring the ash-covered firefighter she sees on 9/11 or shouting as a crazy person at her malignantly lost cabdriver, Parker merges memoir with poetry in this haunting, sui generis work. I drank it down in one gulp, then started back at page one again. A magnificent, necessary surprise.” (Mary Karr, author of The Liars' Club and Lit)"This book will shake your soul out. Funny, surprising, angry, intimate, political, saucy, profound, and very very tender indeed, this is a book that will pass from mother to daughter to father to son and back to mother again. A wonderful literary achievement." (Colum McCann, New York Times bestselling author of Let the Great World Spin)"In an industry that produces replicas, there is no one else quite like Mary-Louise Parker...Funny, heartbreaking, and profound." (Elle)"Bruisingly honest." (Vogue)"The book is written in a smart, beguiling voice that is inextricably entwined with qualities that Ms. Parker radiates as an actress. There’s as much flintiness as reckless charm. Flirtation and mischief are big parts of her arsenal. So is the honest soul-searching that gives this slight-looking book much more heft than might be expected....Its tone is brave and warmly conspiratorial, neither of which has ever hurt an already well-known, professionally adorable person when it comes to attracting readers. That Ms. Parker’s book is so seriously good seems like overkill." (Janet Maslin, The New York Times)"Poetic and often hilarious." (Cosmopolitan)"The most provocative memoir hitting shelves in the coming months." (Hollywood Reporter)"Intimate and polished." (Associated Press)"Memoir readers, storytellers and lovers, starving artists, letter writers, and dreamers will enjoy." (Library Journal)
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Product details
Hardcover: 240 pages
Publisher: Scribner; 1st edition (November 10, 2015)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1501107836
ISBN-13: 978-1501107832
Product Dimensions:
5.5 x 0.9 x 8.4 inches
Shipping Weight: 6.4 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
Average Customer Review:
4.2 out of 5 stars
252 customer reviews
Amazon Best Sellers Rank:
#492,232 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
I’m not one to read books written by celebrities, but I read a review of this memoir that intrigued me enough to give it a try. I was maybe ten pages in when I sat down and ordered five copies for gifts—my faith in its being a great book was that strong. As I continued to the finish, that view was momentarily tested here and there, but ultimately confirmed. Forget that this woman is a famous actress, forget that she’s the sexiest being on the planet, this woman is *deep.*In *Dear Mr. You* Parker has written a series of pseudo-letters to particular men, most of them generically designated (“Dear Emergency Contact,†“Dear Yaqui Indian Boy,†“Dear Grandpa,†etc.), who have all been part of or influenced her life. The narrative is in the second person (the subjects are all addressed as “youâ€), which as it turns out is an elliptical but effective form of storytelling. This approach lends an offbeat perspective, in which the person addressed seems to know more about Parker than she does, while at the same time each letter is equally revealing about both of them. I call the book a memoir, but it defies categorization—feels like fiction, structured like essay. Really it’s just one soul speaking directly to others, with us peering over their shoulders.The writing is simultaneously casual and sophisticated. Offhand sentences thrust you into the heart of life. Tiny telling moments echo with the particular and the universal. Few words are ever wasted. Parker has a fine ear for dialogue and a good grasp of idea, and all of this gets thrown at the page in a way that seems hasty but is really cunning. Parker is impatient with stylistic norms like quotation marks; she uses them from time to time, but often the words just can’t be held within the fences of convention and pour onto the page for the reader to sort out. I’m a copy editor and ought to hate this but I don’t.As for the Parker who emerges from this gumbo, she is passionate and inward, loving and angry, vulnerable and strong, earthbound and spiritual, all of human experience right there for us to laugh and cry with. She embodies the old Whitman cliché (“You say that I contradict myself; very well then, I contradict myself: I am large, I contain multitudesâ€). But in the end, if we all had the courage to be as ruthlessly honest as she is, wouldn’t the same be true of us?A blow-my-eyes-off 5-star read for me.
One of the most lyrically beautiful books I have ever read. This book truly touched me and I dare any of you not to at least feel like crying when you read the last letter.[...]It’s so transparent, how willing we are to dismiss the intelligence of someone who rejects us, though that renders them incapable of sound judgment.- Mary-Louise Parker (Dear Mr. You p 36)I said I don’t know how to say no, I only know how to yell it.-Mary-Louise Parker (Dear Mr. You p 46)Part of why we can’t explain the origin of language is our reaction to perceived truth. If words were entirely reliable they would have evolved as the most efficient means of communication, but they haven’t, because humans lie. An ape makes a sound or gesture to another ape signaling that it wants a banana. It gets the banana or not, but the communication is clear..Despite the fact that animals do “deceive†one another, they are resistant to deceit when they sense it. An ape would simply ignore a communication that was too convoluted, which I think would be a big fat relief. Humans are saddled with some many terrific ways of overcomplicating what we want. “I will give you five dollars for that banana,†or “How come Jolene gets a banana and I don’t?†…All of this takes us further away from what is ultimately: Banana. Give it. We have all these fancy ways to say things, so why do we end up walking away from a simple interaction wondering, “What did they mean by that?â€--Mary-Louise Parker (Dear Mr. You p 63-4)I read about stars that wander the galaxies. Some end up with their bright sides in the face of some dim unlocked planet who neglected to deal with its issues. With their volcanic air of refusal, those tidally locked stars never show their dark half and all the junk in their trunks where nothing grows. It is the baldest metaphor I can imagine. The white dwarf star, once so carefree, starts sucking the life force from its stingy blue companion, and a mutual thievery ensues until a supernova rolls up and obliterates everything they shared together. Somehow the white dwarf limps onward, meekly blinking, its space tag now reading, “Hi! My name is Zombie Star! Ask me about codependence!â€--Mary-Louise Parker (Dear Mr. You p 134)I, yes, am very sleepy and unable to control reflexes. What does it really matter, though, if I just belched softly and consequently peed on myself? Yes, I am breathing so loudly through my mouth that I appear to be snoring with my eyes open and I smell. I am smelly. Look past that to the swaddled perfection in the bassinet. He vibrates with goodness and he is mine. You are correct that I am making a blunder but it’s my mistake to make. And just you wait. This is nothing. I may put a fresh spin on ruinous parenting. I will undoubtedly scar him repeatedly, no matter how hard I try no to. I don’t need help. I’m fully equipped to screw up my child all by myself and I promise I’ll get right on it. Now in fact. But in my own special ways that don’t need your input.--Mary-Louise Parker (Dear Mr. You p 147)“There is no now,†my father would say, banging his cane on the floor on the word now. “ As soon as you say the word, it’s already in the past. When is it? There isn’t one.â€--Mary-Louise Parker (Dear Mr. You p 194)
I've always loved and admired Mary Louise Parker as an actress and to discover that she's an amazing writer was an absolute delight. She's honest, real and unafraid to be who she is. A quality I aspire to. I look forward to discovering more of her writings.
Truth be told, I bought this audio book as well as the printed book simply because Mary-Louise Parker is adorable in the shows I've seen her in. What I didn't expect was that she could write so poetically and eloquently so as to keep me hanging on to her every word. There are times where it seems as though she has veered off-the-path but she always turns it around full-circle to give you a greater understanding. Beautifully written (and the audio version is even better with her sweet voice conveying exactly the right emotions for each circumstance). If you like Mary-Louise Parker or are simply curious about her thoughts on the males of our species, I think you'll like the poetic excellence that she has shared herein.
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