My sister-in-law wrote and published an emotionally charged “memoir” of family dislocation and trauma, in which she massaged the truth of her family’s past to portray my partner as emotionally damaged. (In fact, he is empathetic and was beloved by those he worked with.) Theirs was a complex family story, and there were many omissions and mistruths, which she failed to factcheck with us.
She tried to de‑identify her brother, but he would be recognisable to anyone with a rudimentary ability to search the internet. Legal action was considered, but decided against. Who gets to tell a story in these times? Whose story is more “true”? And should we cut off all ties or attempt reconciliation?
You have every right to be aggrieved. This sounds upsetting, unfair and also largely avoidable. Unless your partner’s inclusion was an essential and pivotal part of the book (in which case he may have wanted to write the story himself), I wonder why he was included in a way that could identify him, and why she didn’t give you a heads-up.
But family members don’t always behave in ways we like, and in families there is usually one person who feels they own the narrative and know all the truths. It may feel as if, by putting her account in a book, your sister-in-law has claimed the definitive, “true” version. But that’s just her side of it. Your question about “who gets to tell a story” is pertinent because not everyone will go on to write a memoir, but many people can and do post a mini version on social media.
I spoke to psychologist and psychoanalyst Prof Alessandra Lemma. She wondered who was really asking these questions, you or your partner? Who is the injured party? Before the memoir, did you get on with your sister-in-law, or has this crystallised something that was already there? The strands of grievance may need teasing out.
“The core question here,” said Lemma, “is who owns a story? The way we experience the facts is very subjective and individual, and there isn’t a correct account in that strict sense, because versions are filtered through our own internal world. Your letter approaches it as if there is an objective truth, and you and your partner own that, and your sister-in-law is misrepresenting something. Many families have fallen out over this: whose truth is the actual truth?
“You first need to have a conversation with your partner to decide who wants what here: does he want to do something about it?
“Everyone has a different version of a situation, and yours may be different even to your partner’s,” said Lemma, “You can’t undo what has happened, so is there a wish to bring the family back together, and does that override the injury of having been treated as you have?”
From what you’ve told me, your sister-in-law should absolutely have taken more care when writing about her brother. In your longer letter you said your sister-in-law has been challenged over all this, but you didn’t say by whom. I’m not sure if you’ve all sat down and discussed this, which would be the grownup, decent thing to do. But, your partner would have to want to do that, which is why I go back to my point: what was the relationship like between you all before and is something else being played out here? If all else was relatively OK between you, I would attempt reconciliation.
As Lemma also pointed out, though you are aggrieved, it would be a real shame if a book about family dislocation and trauma results in more of the same.
Every week, Annalisa Barbieri addresses a personal problem sent in by a reader. If you would like advice from Annalisa, please send your problem to ask.annalisa@theguardian.com. Annalisa regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence. Submissions are subject to our terms and conditions. The latest series of Annalisa’s podcast is available here.
