Michael Cunningham, the Pulitzer Prize-winning American novelist and screenwriter, offers a revealing glimpse into his creative psyche with his new memoir, 'Unsayable'. The book, an intriguing blend of personal history and a guide to writing, dissects the profound insecurities that have, paradoxically, powered his celebrated literary career.
From an early age in suburban California, Cunningham felt an undeniable urge to create, even before fully grasping the concept of art. His childhood artistic endeavours ranged from paintings depicting souls ascending to a heaven resembling the Griffith Park Observatory, to macaroni-covered cigar boxes. These early attempts, he explains, served as a temporary, less 'painful' outlet than trying to articulate the world through words, a challenge he attributes to his sensitive young self.
'Unsayable' directly confronts the origins of these feelings of embarrassment and pain, positing that they stem from the inherent gap between language and the complex realities it attempts to describe. Cunningham suggests that this 'writerly insecurity' has been a constant companion, from his formative years to his mature career, acting as an ever-present judgment. He even notes that success, far from being an antidote, can amplify feelings of isolation and a renewed fear of fading into obscurity.
Cunningham achieved widespread acclaim with his 1998 novel, 'The Hours', a multi-layered narrative inspired by Virginia Woolf's 'Mrs Dalloway', which later became a successful film adaptation starring Nicole Kidman. Despite his success, the memoir reveals a continued tension, reflecting his modernist influences, in attempting to capture the grandeur and inherent fragility of consciousness within his work. This fragility is a recurring theme, exemplified by his serendipitous discovery of Woolf, sparked by a desire to impress a girl in high school.
While the book includes familiar observations on the writing process, Cunningham's most compelling contributions lie in his frank depictions of a younger self striving for acceptance and experiences beyond his comfort zone. A particularly striking chapter recounts his time working as a rent boy during his senior year at Stanford, a narrative rendered with a powerful mix of bravado, precarity, and pathos, showcasing his distinctive narrative pace.