Due to a recent series of unfortunate events, I have discovered some quite pleasant side effects of pain control medication. Reading and watching movies, as I have for the past few weeks, always provide a breathtaking array of possibilities for learning new words and concepts.

While soaking in the bath of pain modulators, however, one’s brain (at least mine) relaxes enough to REALLY appreciate certain words, concepts and nuances. Some words are so glorious that I produce mental images of them flowing smoothly on my tongue, reminding me of egg whites slipping through my fingers as I separate the yolks.

If you haven’t already suspected, this is being written under the influence of a superior pain reliever, Tramadol. Legal Department, please note that I am NOT, in any way, suggesting that ANY drug, even aspirin, be used to enhance creativity.

I do, however, want to point out that I have just had what I can only describe as an epiphany regarding the word MEMOIR. It sounds so, so ... French, so elegant, so delicate.

While processing the gamut of emotions that range from utter despair to giddy nonchalance prompted by the word-that-shall-not-be-spoken which caused me to take the pain meds in the first place, I was suddenly and almost religiously struck by the beauty of the word itself and by the personal realization that a memoir is the most truthful and beautiful of all written art forms.

I have read and loved many memoirs. Granted, the true story of your grandmother’s arduous trip here from whatever old country she left might not make the best seller list, even if assisted by a highly paid ghost writer, but it will be a genuine story. And I like genuine stories.

I like to know that people are telling the truth, even as they entertain; that life itself can be as interesting, moving and riveting as a John Grisham novel.

There are many memoirs in the library. One of my favorites, “A Million Little Pieces,” turned out not to be a memoir after all, but a true story “enhanced” with falsehoods.

And there is another category of literature which is not quite original and true, but has an interesting excuse. It is (and here is another lovely word) cryptomnesia which basically means that the writer or performer believes that the work is his, but actually it is based on “forgotten” memories and, according to that pervasive know-it-all Wikipedia, the person is not engaging in plagiarism, but is rather experiencing a memory as if it were inspiration.

But don’t let these imposters ruin the beautiful world of memoirs awaiting you. Would you rather spend time with someone you regard as the most interesting person in the world? Or with someone who makes you feel like YOU are the most interesting person in the world?

That’s rather how I feel about reading a memoir. Pleased to have someone’s life revealed so intimately to me. Touched by confidences I read as revealed only to me.

If they’re well written, memoirs can uplift, inspire, entertain or just make you feel better for having known this person, this “memoirist.”

Anyway, as I said, there are many memoirs in the library. Let us help you find one. Here are a few of my favorites you might consider:

“First You Cry” by Betty Rollin

“Glass Castle” by Jeannette Walls

“’Tis” by Frank McCourt

“Life and Times of the Last Kid Picked” by David Benjamin

“Drinking: A Love Story” by Caroline Knapp

“Kick Me: Adventures in Adolescence” by Paul Feig

Now I’m going to go think of some more lovely words.

Carol Petrowski is a La Crosse County Library System staff member at the Onalaska Public Library.

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