Hilary Mantel is the fantastic author of Wolf Hall and Bringing Up the Bodies. If you’re into historical fiction and good writing, pick these up.
She’s also the author of a memoir I’ve not read, Giving Up the Ghost. It includes a quote called out by the Times, one that struck me and I’m not yet sure why:
“I used to think that autobiography was a form of weakness, and perhaps I still do. But I also think that, if you’re weak, it’s childish to pretend to be strong.”
If you’re weak, it’s childish to pretend to be strong.
The greatest power, is in not needing it. There’s a quite confidence one can effect when you’ve got nothing to prove.
But there’s a difference between believing unfailingly in one’s competencies, and using them as a cover for what is an existential weakness. Am I being childish by closing off my weakness to my local world?
I don’t mind telling you. Here’s my weakness: Part of me is eternally six. Easily hurt. Prideful. Resilient, never not sad, but could make people laugh even then. Here’s the key: little me is in control a lot and I feel like I can’t help it. It might be childish to pretend otherwise. But is this something you can say out loud in America?
Hours and hours
I work out for hours at a time. It’s contemplative, meditative, painful. I can’t imagine working out for a normal amount of time; it wouldn’t seem enough. Today’s workout made me realize that this is another cover, and it’s not just for my vanity. The pain feels familiar. It feels like weakness. It is weakness. Nobody works out for hours if they don’t have to.
What am I covering for? Am I taking myself back to my young painful life? Am I desperately trying to give my six-year-old the muscle she needs? I don’t know. I’m open to your thoughts.
We’ll be back after these messages
There’s a lot in Mantel’s quote to unpack. It deserves more than one post; it deserves a conversation. Please leave your thoughts in the comments. We’ll talk again soon.
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