I picked up The Best American Essays 2022 over the weekend and the first piece I turned to was about a woman’s relationship with her body. “At the end of fourth grade, my body mutinously exploded, flesh swelling from my chest and thighs before it happened to anyone else.” I turned to the next piece, which began “The semester prior to his suicide, my friend and I…” Then I flipped randomly to the preceding piece and read “My sister was diagnosed with Ewing sarcoma when I was in my freshmen year of high school…”
I understand the impetus for writers to write about their trauma – it can be cathartic, and help them deal with the pain. What I don’t get is the appetite of readers to read about it. Granted, for those suffering from the same or similar traumas, there’s a certain amount of consolation. But isn’t there any interest, particularly among the distraught, in being lifted up? Experiencing a more life-affirming vision? Escaping from the small island of the self into the wider, richer world?
Apparently not, as The Best American Travel Writing was discontinued this year.
