Speaking Into The Void: The Narrative Voice in Memoir

From St. Augustine’s Confessions that trace his path to Catholicism to Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave a narration of how Douglass transcended from a slave to abolitionist, to Trevor Noah’s Born A Crime, a humorous account of how he survived the South African apartheid and became an entertainment celebrity, memoirs have been a genre to stand the test of time. For the past three months, I have pondered the question of why memoirs exist? The truth is, society, particularly my knowledge within American culture, is obsessed with knowing – being a fly on the wall. However, more so, we are interested in the opportunities for human connection beyond face-to-face interactions. In today’s current pandemic, people yearn for a way to connect with one another more than ever. We scour social media, blogs, and memoirs to learn about other people’s experiences; we live vicariously through their triumphs and empathize with their trials. The idea of knowing someone, without ever even talking to them has become a firsthand nature, and memoirs provide a very particular way to connect.

While memoirs are built to share personal and oftentimes traumatic experiences, such an unobstructed view into the author’s life does not guarantee a connection. No. What bridges the gap between the author and reader in any form of writing is the narrative voice. Just as when speaking to someone in person, the way that an author presents their story – their level of comfort and confidence within the subject – defines the way that the listener will perceive it. Will their mind wander? Will they feel burdened by your story? Will they be gripped throughout the book, feeling less isolated? More motivated? Like they have been welcomed into the story?

In the article, “Finding Innocence and Experience: Voices in Memoir,” memoirist and academic, Sue William Silverman, discusses the primary voices used in memoirs, which she labels “the voice of innocence” and “the voice of experience.” She describes the voice of innocence as being a naïve and surface level lens to present a story, as it explains the motions the author went through at the time. This voice, as Silverman says, “reveals the raw, not-yet-understood emotions associated with the story’s action by portraying the person you were (and what you felt) when the sequence of events actually took place” (par. 6). There is minimal reflection in this narrative voice, as the author channels the person that they once were, telling the readers how they remember the exact details of the moment.

Oppositely, the voice of experience is more mature and analytic, choosing to the past in a way that the voice of innocence never could have as they went through life with a surface level understanding. Silverman describes the role of this voice as having the ability to interpret the past and deepen both the author and the readers’ understanding of the events through metaphors, irony, and reflection (par.7). Each voice proves itself to be a different character: one who was able to live through a certain time, set goals, and/or discover themselves and one who is able to find their voice and tell what the past means to them now. Knowing when to use which voice and to what degree is a very important judgement for a memoirist to have as they tell their stories, because an unbalance could result in a disconnect.

It is my belief that he was a very particular type of person. As he discusses his earlier life, it is clear that like the audience for his book, he was hungry – hungry for knowledge. His mother, an amazing woman, taught him the importance of intelligence, and that guided his paths in life. Both when he wanted to become an English scholar and a neurosurgeon, Kalanithi sought to cultivate a deeper understanding of life. He was the type of person to always have a plan and know every variability along the way. Thus, in the second half of his memoir, when he is writing memories so recent that you might question if he has gained the distance necessary to discuss them with maturity, he surprises the audience by maintaining his existence as a protagonist in the story. As a doctor who has diagnosed patients in the same situation that he has found himself in, he has an interesting perspective to offer, and this allows him to have the knowledge and distance to analyze his experience as a storyteller, rather than the person currently going through the situation.

In having such a unique perspective, Kalanithi was able to balance his two voices as he wrote. However, his perspective also manifested itself in his writing as making the memoir very stiff and academic in some areas. This, I can only assume is not a result of him not being able to process the memories, but as the result of how he processed them. As someone who had a life goal that was on the verge of being achieved, Kalanithi may have found the changes in his life disturbing to say the least. The things that he had worked for his whole life were slowly slipping out of his reach. Small actions like riding a bike became major accomplishments, yet in some ways they felt more life defeats that he could no longer act as he once was able to (Kalanithi. p. 100). Kalanithi makes it clear throughout the book that his diagnosis felt like a rush against time, and he had to maintain a sense of normalcy in order to stay strong for himself and his family. The pressure that he experienced during this period of his life translates into how he wrote a majority of the book.

Interestingly, the same urgency within the voice is present in the epilogue written by Kalanithi’s wife, Lucy Kalanithi, after his passing. Her voice comes across as rather strained. It is clear that her tone is not as somber and stiff as her writing in the epilogue. However, she purposely tries to emulate Kalanithi’s voice both for consistency within the finished product, but she may have also been experiencing the same urgency to process the memories in a certain way. One thing that I found to be so profound was Lucy’s admittance that voices change. In the epilogue, she writes:

Parallel to this story are the love and warmth and spaciousness and radical permission that surrounded him. We all inhabit different selves in space and time. Here he is as a doctor, as a patient, and within a doctor-patient relationship. He wrote with a clear voice,  the  voice  of  someone  with  limited  time,  a  ceaseless  striver, though there were other selves as well. Not fully captured in these pages are Paul’s sense of humor—he was wickedly funny—or his sweetness and tenderness, the value he placed on relationships with friends and family. But this is the book he wrote; this was his voice during this time; this was his message during this time; this was what he wrote when he needed to write it (p. 149).

A person’s voice is only a reflection of who they are at a given time. Their maturity, understanding, and emotion displayed in speech or writing are all measured by their current experience, and this is something very important to note when discussing a memoir.

Although Kalanithi’s is very calculated in this book, it is merely a reflection of how his entire life was carefully calculated at the time. Furthermore, the understanding that his voice was an authentic reflection of his situation makes reading it bearable, if not enjoyable. True there is a heavy and academic undertone to the writing; however, Kalanithi’s ability to weave in both a voice of innocence and a voice of experience into his writing allows the readers to see that distinction, knowing that he has gained from the experience. Rather than simply telling us what happened, Kalanithi brought readers into his life, and together, he allowed use to analyze his experiences, finding irony and intelligence throughout.

One thing that affects any author’s voice is intention. It is clear that Kalanithi wrote more than for himself. He was not trying to figure things out; rather, he was trying to gain and share wisdom to his family and his audience. This once more offers him the perspective he needs to create distance from the memories he is telling in order to make them a story rather than a stream of consciousness.

In many ways, Kalanithi was a mastermind in writing. From the memoirs that we have read this semester, I believe that When Breath Becomes Air has been one of my favorites. In addition to having a story that satisfies my desire to know, Kalanithi artfully creates literature. In a society where memoirs have become a fad that everyone writes their story, it is hard to find ones that resonate – ones that are less of a diary entry or a walk through someone else’s life. However, Kalanithi somehow found a way to welcome readers into a single portion of his life, make them feel comfortable, even when the subject might not be, and reflect on his experiences.

The voice within a memoir performs powerful work in connecting the readers and making a story worth telling. Although there is no proven right way to write a memoir, I definitely think there are wrong ways, and not having a voice and understanding how to use it is definitely one way. A voice is not the words on the page or the tone of the words, it is the soul and perspective within the writer. Kalanithi found his perfect voice in this memoir, and his words became a legacy.

Works Cited

Kalanithi, Paul, and A Verghese. When Breath Becomes Air. 2016. Retrieved from https://www.humbleisd.net/cms/lib/TX01001414/Centricity/Domain/5915/When%20Breath%20Becomes%20Air%20-%20Full%20Text.pdf

Silverman, Sue William.  “Finding Innocence and Experience: Voices in Memoir.”  Fearless Confessions: A Writer’s Guide to Memoir. University of Georgia Press, 2009. Retrieved from https://www.wow-womenonwriting.com/44-FE4-VoicesInMemoir.html