Matteo Venieri
venam@bu.edu

“You are a Carr, and this is a complicated, wondrous inheritance.” These words, written by David Carr in an email to his daughter Erin Lee Carr, are a sort of map that the author tries to use to navigate in pursuit of her identity. She looks for help in a number of tools, like photos, texts, tweets and more in order to recover the buggy memories of her childhood and find her path in life without her father and her mentor. At the same time, Erin’s journey described in “All That You Leave Behind” is a solitary one.

In fact, the relationship between the women of the Carr family is, in my opinion, one of the crucial themes of the book. Her biological mother is mentioned only a handful of times, and hardly in a flattering way. It’s worth highlighting that the first time her existence is even merely acknowledged is when Erin catches herself finding in a Sephora saleswoman a “commission-dependent surrogate mom.” (14) The lack of a maternal figure is undeniable.

Chapter 6 is entirely devoted to her mother, albeit confined in two pages under the title “The Other Woman.” I thought it was interesting how Erin mentioned her mother’s side of the family, adding that her father was an alcoholic. This made me realize a substantial difference in the way she sees addiction in her family. On one hand, there was her mother, raised in a difficult family environment that seems to share many similarities with her own. However, Erin doesn’t offer any sympathy or excuses to her.

On the other hand, Erin remarks many times throughout the book that she felt like she “had succumbed to her genes,” (136) a comment that I interpreted as a way of distancing herself from her responsibilities. I wasn’t expecting a moment of reconciliation with her mother by the end, but I am nonetheless surprised how little Erin seems interesting in knowing more about the similarities with her mother, so far limited to very few traits. I wonder if, after digging deep into her father’s life, she will do the same with her mother in the future.

Jill, her stepmother, is more of a regular presence in the memoir, but in my opinion, their relationship appears quite superficial too. The most obvious signal is that Erin calls her by her first name, not mom. Moreover, I see chapter 30 as a prime example of their tenuous relationship. When Jill decides to sell the house in New Jersey, Erin would like to ask her how it felt like to move on to a new place after losing the man she loved for two decades. However, she keeps it to herself, noting that “we’re not close enough for me to pose such an intimate question.” (205)

In the same chapter, Erin expands similar sentiments toward her sisters too. Even as her twin and a crucial person in her life, Meagan’s feelings after their loss are rarely explored. I believed that, especially knowing how deep of a connection usually exists between twins, Meagan would’ve played a more central role during Erin’s recovery process. The author does mention a few phone calls between the two, but it appears that, just like their relationship with their father was different, so was their grief.

Erin seems to be willing to pay more attention to her twin’s feelings in these last few pages, an idea that she mentions almost absent-mindedly. As she cleans the house, Erin has a moment of epiphany in which she realizes she hasn’t spent much time with her family and would rather stay by herself, getting even more isolated from the rest of the family. This is true especially in regar to Meagan. “It occurred to me how hard this part must have been for her, my twin.” (207)

 Equally symbolic is the moment that the two share in the “shrine room.” As they sit together, Erin contemplates hugging Meagan, but soon changes her mind. It wasn’t the right time, she concludes. Just like with Jill, Erin’s questions and emotions toward Meagan are suppressed. Even as she looks for an external reference on how to deal with the loss of a relative in her “Sad Girl’s Guide,” Erin prefers to ask three friends rather than her twin.

Madeline is even more of an ethereal presence in the memoir. Erin only attributes a handful of quotes to her stepsister, but the longest one is also the most significant. At the funeral, Madeline takes the podium between her sisters and addresses the crowd.

“In the wake of his death, I found myself scrambling to remember all the times we spent together – the good, the bad, the ugly – with the hope of securing at least the smallest thing to hold on to. As my father’s daughter, I question the authenticity of the recollection: how much of this am I fabricating? Glorifying? Enhancing? (188)

Erin, perhaps too focused on her own speech to realize it, fails to see how it remarkably echoed the very same sentiments that made her look for answers and ultimately write the book. In addition, she never appears to have the desire of guiding Madeline and showing her the many traces of David Carr’s heritage. I can’t speculate whether or not Erin became more of a mentor for Madeline in the following years, but I would be interested in knowing more about it.

The moment that best summarizes the delicate relationships between the women of the Carr family is chapter 32, not coincidentally titled “Resentments.” The chapter describes the family’s first Thanksgiving without the head of the family: his absence quickly reveals how he was the glue that kept the rest of the family united.

Meagan, the more family-oriented of the group, tries to bring them all together to celebrate the day, but Erin resents the idea: “I would much rather scarf down bowls of green curry, alone, with The Office playing in the background, than try to get through this ludicrous holiday and all its trappings.” (216)

When they meet in Boston together with their grandmother Diane, Erin’s bitterness and unwillingness to be present was hardly disguised. “I resented Jill for being gone, Meagan for forcing us to spend time together, my dad for dying, and Madeline for coughing all night long.” (218) Ultimately, I think it’s fitting that Erin finally finds her piece when she is as distant as possible from everything and everybody she knew.

It’s in Alaska, in fact, where the author overcomes her constant state of rage and depression, and is finally able to reach the phase of acceptance. “I found that the righteous anger that had been with me the first year had started to leave me.” (231) My conclusion is that the memoir follows a linear trajectory that was never meant to allow any other passengers – not even the members of her family. After all, “even together, we were alone,” she writes. (208)

At the same time, I believe that Erin’s personal and intimate series of reflections will ultimately help her family, friends and even strangers. And just like that, a solitary journey can become a precious guide on how to deal with loss, arguably the most shared experience among all of us.