Fennelly’s own mother is first introduced in a scene where a doctor draws on her chest to mark where he will cut for what we later learn is a double mastectomy. However, Fennelly avoids conceding her mother to the all-too-familiar cancer narrative full of medical tragedy. Instead, the poignant “Disharmony” considers her mother’s sexuality, and “Proof,” with a tinge of sarcasm, questions her mother’s motives in keeping every memento from Fennelly’s childhood.
The questioning is harsher for her father, who Fennelly remembers once forced her to walk two miles in a blizzard to attend mass. She decides to tell her father, on his death bed, that she loves him to spare her future self — “whom I did love,” she asserts — any guilt. With intact social codes about how we treat our parents and the dying, such truth-telling might give pause to some readers. Nevertheless, it is Fennelly’s chiseled perspective at its best.
Death does not spare Fennelly further loss. Her older sister dies too young. “Safety Scissors” remembers her then 4-year-old sister’s jealous scissor attack on Fennelly’s hair. Powerless, she allowed it. In perhaps the most gripping and surprising ending of the collection, she states, “Even then I had an instinct for self-preservation. And you see, I was right. I am alive, and she isn’t.” This piece exemplifies why micro-memoir is sometimes called “flash” nonfiction, not just for its brevity but for its profound gleam of understanding.
As might be expected in any collection, “Heating & Cooling” includes a few micro-memoirs that are pithy but not as engaging as others, but Fennelly has honed a tool set for maximizing the form. One such tool is pairing hard-working titles with sparse text. “Returning from Spring Break, Junior Year at Notre Dame” is followed by one almost sentence: “Swapped the rosary on my bedpost for Mardi Gras beads.” The image tells the story, but the omission of the subject I — memoir’s reliable narrator — reinforces the identity shifting that comes with questioning faith. Other writers who work within the form include Anne Carson, whose “Small Talks” are lovely but less accessible micro-memoirs (or prose poems, depending on whom you ask). “Heating & Cooling” is just so readable, so fun.
Though there is nothing ordinary about her talent, all in all, Fennelly’s life is perfectly ordinary. Wife, mother, daughter, writer, she is also a runner, a reluctant small-talker, a lover of libraries, a devoted neighbor and teacher, and, according to one source, a baker of the best snickerdoodles ever. And though “Heating & Cooling” offers micro-memoirs in a book that itself fits atop the stretch of a single hand, there is nothing small about it.
‘Heating & Cooling: 52 Micro-memoirs’
by Beth Ann Fennelly
W. W. Norton & Company
111 pages, $22.95