Francine Prose, a renowned novelist and critic, presents her first memoir, “1974: A Personal History,” scheduled for release by Harper in 2024. This memoir exemplifies her trademark eloquence and offers a poignant exploration of personal and political history. Prose, who once remarked in an MFA course that “you can’t teach writing,” demonstrates that one can gain significant insights into writing by engaging with her extensive body of work, which counts over thirty books.
Set in the pivotal year of 1974, the memoir delves into Prose’s life during a transformative time. At twenty-six, she had exited her marriage, published her debut novel “Judah the Pious,” was in the process of writing a third, and had relocated to San Francisco. She reflects on this period, stating, “I liked feeling free, alive and on edge, even a little bit afraid … I wanted to feel like an outlaw.” It was a time when San Francisco was infused with activism, yet it also represented a bittersweet awakening for the previous decade’s idealism. Prose articulates that while the late 1960s were characterized by dreams of significant change, the 1970s ushered in a harsh realization that those transformations might never materialize.
The memoir offers a glimpse into her relationship with Anthony Russo, known as an “anti-Vietnam war whistleblower and free speech hero” as well as one of the two RAND Corporation men who divulged the Pentagon Papers. Prose admits to being captivated by Russo and provides a nuanced portrayal of his frustrations over perceived inequalities in public recognition when compared to Daniel Ellsberg. Their shared evenings spent driving through San Francisco in an old Buick allow Prose to paint the city with vivid, nearly cinematic descriptions, illustrating her attraction to the not conventionally appealing Russo.
She expresses a desire for a deeper emotional connection with Russo, yet often finds herself as a listener to his fervent discussions. Despite warnings from a friend, Prose chooses to embrace the relationship, relishing the unpredictability of their adventures: “I had no idea where we were going or where we would end up. I liked not knowing, not caring, not having to decide.” A somber moment occurs during one night together as they overlook the Sutro Baths, with Prose recounting the ominous possibility of danger lurking beneath the surface. In a reflective acknowledgment, she admits feeling a tingle of fear looking back at her younger self, but at the time, she felt no such trepidation.
The memoir artfully intertwines personal experiences with significant historical and political contexts, showcasing Prose’s evolution into a formidable writer alongside the country’s awakening to issues of violence and disillusionment. The narrative unfolds against the backdrop of historic events such as Nixon’s resignation, the Pentagon Papers, the kidnapping of Patty Hearst, covert CIA activities, and the ongoing ramifications of the Vietnam War. Russo, who fought to reveal government cover-ups regarding the war, ultimately succumbed to paranoia and bitterness, setting the stage for Prose to reflect on her choices and personal growth.
In echoing sentiments about activism and change, she recalls Russo’s belief in the necessity of taking action, regardless of the likelihood of success. “Even if … the chances were that most of what you did would eventually be undone, you still had to try,” she emphasizes. Prose’s memoir stands as a beautifully crafted narrative from one of today’s most significant literary voices.