(DIVA, 6.03)
Michelle Tea is one of my favourite writers. Now that she's published
the third and best volume of her memoirs to critical acclaim, it
looks as though she's going to be one of the favourite writers of
a lot of other people too. To say that she's going places is an
understatement, this woman is a new dyke literary phenomenon - look
out for Michelle Tea wannabes in your neighbourhood any day now.
Actually, she's a star. Tea has already won a Lammy, kind of like the queer literary establishment's very own Oscars, for her second book, 'Valencia,' which charted the true-life ups and downs of her beyond-grunge punker dyke world in the mid-1990s. Tea said in an interview that Valencia, named after the San Francisco street at the epicentre of her world at that time, upset some people who appeared in the book, sometimes in an unflattering light. But it is Tea's commitment to telling the truth about her life, the uglier parts as well as the triumphant, that makes these stories so compelling. She's real, that's the whole point of her writing so far, and maybe the complainants need to face up to their mistakes too.
It was during the Valencia years that Tea set up Sister Spit, a response to the fact that talented women writers and performers were not then getting a look-in at the male-dominated spoken word scene. The event, a free weekly open mic affair where anyone could have a go, helped generate a new interest in underground literature and many of the stars of that scene have gone on to publish their work in the mainstream. Sister Spit wound down as more women-friendly spoken word events took hold and, as Tea remarked, she got fed up at the plethora of "girls with acoustic guitars doing cover songs" who wanted in on the act. But that didn't stop her organising the Sister Spit Ramblin' Roadshow, epic cross-country trips that introduced a varying roster of artists and collaborators to places that don't generally get to hear such edgy material.
Tea's obscure first book, The Passionate Mistakes and Intricate Corruption of One Girl in America, was picked up by Semiotext(e) Native Agents' series, home of the hippest of hip authors including Ann If You're A Girl Rower and Boston soulmate, the poet Eileen Myles. It is Myles to whom The Chelsea Whistle is dedicated. Tea told Diva that the author of Chelsea Girls and my favourite book of 2002, Cool For You, has been a great influence: "because she writes from a space that is very conversational, it's memoir without being all doctored up and served to you on a doily, it's very raw and matter of fact, it's blunt, it's a working class life, alcoholic, New England, dyke existence that she's portrayed in much of her writing, and also a more sober and wondrous vision as well." It's funny but Tea could also be describing her own work.
The Chelsea Whistle is indeed a raw conversational memoir that covers Tea's early life growing up in Chelsea, a dismal satellite town outside of Boston. The author covers the familiar territory of sexual awakening and teenage rebellion, but what lifts the prose is her expert grasp of pop culture, language that is stunning, deep sense of place and right-on-the-money characterisation. There's also the story of Will, her abusive stepfather, that runs like a rotten thread through the whole ensemble.
Describing the awful truth about friends and acquaintances is one thing, but doing it to your own family is quite another. So what did they make of this book? Tea explains: "The only member of my family who even knows the book exists is my younger sister, and she is incredibly supportive of my writing. I was very scared that it might be too much for her, and I know that at times it was painful for her to read, but she has no problems with the way I've depicted her, or anyone."
Tea goes on to say that writing the book did not affect how she felt about her abusive stepfather, she remarks: "It didn't really affect anything, only document it."
After writing so intimately about herself, it's hard to envision where Tea can take the memoir genre next. Is she in danger of exhausting her source material? She says: "I certainly feel burnt out and over exposed and tired of talking about myself. Also, I think there needs to be time for perspective to develop, and if there is a constant crazed real-time documenting happening, you risk losing a deeper perspective in your writing and in your sense of self-understanding as well."
So what does the future hold? Tea is working on "Absolutely nothing," at the moment, but adds: " No, I do have a screenplay finished, a first draft that I might trash entirely. This morning I did some character sketches for a book I'm thinking of starting, but I've done this before, and then don't actually do it. Fiction is daunting to me. Anyway, if I make it out of the house today, around the corner to the cafe, and I start working on the story I just sketched out earlier, then I guess I have a new project. If not, I have no idea. You go to jump on these things or the moment is gone."
Meanwhile Chelsea itself is changing and becoming gentrified. Tea says that the unthinkable has happened and that the city now has a queer-owned café where she did a reading. She comments: "When I lived there, books were in the library, and gay people were in the shady, windowless queer bar on the edge of town." Tea is generating some cautious respect in the home town that once threatened to smother her, but she's not exactly a local celebrity, unlike a local boxer who got the Chelsea equivalent of a ticker-tape parade when he won a fight. Tea reflects: "A native boxer winning a fight is going to be a bigger hit then a native writer getting some good book reviews, cause people in Chelsea understand kicking ass more then writing."