You don't have to say you love me: a memoir, by Sherman Alexie

I would say that most of Alexie’s work is, in one way or another, a memoir.  I have heard him speak twice, seen his films (The business of fancydancing is a favorite), and read many of his books.  He will be appearing at the new book festival in the CWE this month, and if you haven't heard him speak, I recommend you attend. His difficult early life and his Native-American identity form the core of his work – books, poems, movies, and the lecture circuit.  So there wasn’t a lot of new information in this extended (454 pages) meditation on his complex relationship with his mother, who died two years ago.  She had her own demons.  Although the book is long, it is a quick read with some very short chapters and a lot of free verse.  Much as I admire Alexie as an author, activist, and person, his poetry is the weakest part of his work.   The book may be as much an exorcism as a memoir, although, in their own complicated ways, the mother and son loved one another.  This very personal work, which reopens wounds and scars, both emotional and physical, is difficult to read because of the obvious pain it documents.  But it is far, far too long.  454 pp.