Terese Marie Mailhot
Heart Berries, written in poetic, dream-like prose, in part is directed towards Mailhot’s sometimes lover, later husband Casey Gray. In the midst of a breakdown, her excess proved too much for him, and the memoir begins with her institutionalized–voluntarily she is quick to clarify–as she wrestled with his abandonment. (One of my favorite scenes depicts a group of women coloring at the psychiatric facility.)
Within this dysfunctional love story, Mailhot reveals greater sorrows. Her mother had a series of boyfriends and neglected her children, so they went into foster care. When Mailhot aged out of the system, she got married because she lacked better options, but she lost custody of her elder son to her ex-husband. Later, when she is medicated and more stable, she remembers that her father abused her. She reveals she and her siblings have substance abuse problems as well. All that is set against continued microaggressions due to her ethnicity, starting with those she witness against her mother who was ignored in restaurants and shops as if being Indian were a crime.
After Mailhot leaves the psychiatric facility, she starts seeing Casey once a week, though she knows he is also seeing other–white–women, at least casually, at least as friends. Even though she doesn’t believe Casey can understand her pain, even though she thinks he prefers white women, they have a child together and they marry. The memoir turns, then, addressing Mailhot’s parents and their legacy to her.
When I finished reading Heart Berries, I read some of the online reviews, and they didn’t match my experience of the book. Although I value women’s stories and women seizing control of their own narratives, Native women in particular, I don’t personally care for Mailhot’s style. At times, her writing can be lovely, but too often, it felt choppy to me. That some reviewers called her the voice of a generation seemed at best hyperbolic. That said, it was achingly honest and a provocative meditation on love, abuse, mental health, racism, and motherhood.