A Memoir of Growth and Pain – You Could Make This Place Beautiful by Maggie Smith

This memoir by poet Maggie Smith relates the history of her marriage, her divorce, and journey to find some level of peace and acceptance. It is beautifully written, yet at times almost excruciatingly painful to read. She shares just enough of her life so that we have a sketch of the arc of the relationship from its beginning and onward as it unravels, the failed linchpin of that being when she discovers her husband's betrayal, and then its following and complete destruction. 

She writes eloquently of her loving relationship with her two young children, her closeness with her family, and with friends. Preoccupied with motherhood, and with her evolving success as a published writer, she does not recognize how the marriage is deconstructing until much later, when, as the divorce proceeds and is completed, she has the distance to realize how it was coming apart long before she discovered her husband's unfaithfulness.

Smith is respectful enough of her ex-husband in her portrayal, considering that he was the cheater, and once separated from Smith, moved 500 miles away from his young children, so that parenting became even more primarily her responsibility.

Even though I am agewise a peer of Smith's mother, I can recognize my younger self in past relationships that ended unhappily, though I suspect it doesn't matter how old one is in such situations. In those too, the signs were there for Smith as they were for me, though in the midst of things, they went unread. Tolstoy wrote in Anna Karenina, "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.", but that could easily be rephrased to happy marriages or relationships. Happy relationships are not often examined, it is the unhappy ones that plague us with doubt, disappointment, sadness, and anger.

Smith's mother tells her how unexpected the marriage's breakup was to her and the rest of Smith's family. She cites Smith's fortieth birthday, when Smith's husband presented her with a handwritten list of the 40 things he loved about her. Not only has that piece of paper disappeared, but Smith has no memory of it. Some reviewers have expressed disbelief about Smith's forgetting it and its loss, but I understand it – like so many poignant reminders of other times, in her pain she has destroyed it and excised the memory. She mentions in another passage how she now understands why people cut their past significant others out of photos or outright destroy them: of course you do, when the pain is greatest, you try to remove its source, and hold on only to the good pieces of memory.

I found this book by reading a post in "Oldster", a Substack edited by the journalist and editor Sari Botton, and when I went to the library to borrow it, I found it prominently displayed...perhaps a bit of the serendipity in life that Smith mentions in her writing. Who knows? Maggie Smith in "Oldster"