This is the second time I’ve written this post, because sometimes the internet is a mysterious place and doesn’t save my drafts and instead consumes them and leaves me with nothing but my ideas. Pity me, people!
It is fiiiiine, I’ll be fine. I’m just going to go pour myself a glass of wine and put on some chill music, I’ll be right back.
*brief musical interlude*
Alright. Here we are, discussing Hannah Hart’s incredible memoir, Buffering. I don’t mean to sound like a fangirl when I say this, but I am kind of obsessed with Hannah. I have been watching her youtube videos for years, and her spoof cooking show “My Drunk Kitchen” never fails to cheer me up when I’ve had a bad day. However, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect with her memoir. I know Hannah had a pretty dark past, but it is something that always felt a little hidden from her internet personality, because she is such an optimist and very forward-looking. Even though I really enjoy her content, I wasn’t sure that I would enjoy her memoir. Mainly, I worried that it would be too navel-gazing and self-serving, as some celebrity memoirs tend to be. So, until this week, I avoided reading it. This is the last week of my class in trends and topics in YA literature, and we are discussing adult books with teen appeal. Each year, the ALA presents 10 authors with an Alex Award, which are books specifically written for adults that have strong appeal to teens. Buffering was one of the committee’s selections last year, so when I saw that it was included on our reading list this week, I decided to take a chance on it.
This memoir was, in a word, unexpected. I was full of trepidation when I started it, and I certainly wasn’t expecting a quiet reflection on mental illness, family, spirituality, and sexuality. The memoir is told as a series of essays that do not follow a chronological order. It actually feels more like a formal blog, which has an overarching theme, that tells the story in a series of related posts. This makes sense, considering Hannah Hart is best known as an internet personality. The book is at its best when ruminating on family: Hannah’s relationship with her mother, sisters, and father help to build the foundation for the memoir. A chapter about her burgeoning sexuality also presented a superb discussion of first love and coming to terms with one’s sexuality.
Hannah Hart’s mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, but when they were growing up, Hannah and her older sister just thought her mom talked to herself a lot. They made up stories about how she was on the phone with friends and family for hours at a time, even though their home’s power had been cut. Hannah’s mother’s delusions ran the gamut: from the fear of a prowler outside the house, to the fear that the government was engaged in a conspiracy against them. However, her paranoia taught Hannah to be cautious at times, which came in handy when a lonely 10-year-old Hannah decided to run away one summer day. She had barely made it down the street when a man in a white van approached her and asked her for directions--then demanded she get in the car. Hannah was conflicted, because her father, a Jehovah’s Witness preacher, always taught her to respect and obey her elders, but her mother taught her to be afraid of everything. Hannah, fortunately, told the man to buzz off, which is good because he most certainly was attempting to kidnap her. This moment is surreal because it is almost too cliche: of course there was a creepy man in a white van attempting to kidnap her, the first and only time she tried to run away as a 10 year old child. If this wasn’t a memoir, I’d be annoyed, but that really happened.
Hannah’s father left their family, but the girls were court-mandated to visit their father each month. The first thing her father and stepmother did, whenever they saw Hannah and her sister, was order them to bathe. They thought the girls were slovenly and unclean (and, by all accounts, they were), but forbade them from taking the fresh clothes, underwear, and toothbrushes back to their mother’s house with them. It is clear how much these interactions irreparably damaged Hannah’s relationship with her father. Her father was also deeply homophobic, and his views on the matter colored her own sexual development in harmful ways.
Hannah’s childhood was spent in a home festering with rot, spiders, flies, dust, and dirt. One of the most poignant essays details the time an adult Hannah brought her girlfriend to visit her mother. Hannah was convinced the meeting went as well as it possibly could have, but her girlfriend left feeling terrified that Hannah’s mother could, and would, harm Hannah at the first chance. This incident created a lot of inner turmoil for Hannah, because what she had perceived as “normal” for her entire life was, essentially, an elaborate lie she had been telling herself.
The book feels cathartic, in a sense, because it connects the dots between Hannah’s upbringing and her own mental health struggles. She is frank about self-harm and reiterates that the urge to self-harm never really goes away, but she manages it with therapy, medicine, meditation, and helping others. Although there are some essays that are less strong than others, the overall book is sharply-written, poignant, and intriguing. Someone could pick up this book without knowing who Hannah Hart is, and be instantly fascinated by her story. It is self-aware without being self-pitying, and quite inspiring when Hannah discusses her and her siblings’ tireless efforts to become primary caretakers of their seriously mentally ill mother.
Buffering, although ostensibly written for an adult audience, is an excellent read for teens because it focuses on Hannah as a young adult. Her circumstances may be extraordinary, but her thought processes and personal development are relatable. Reading about how she overcame indigence, homophobia, a broken family, and mental illness is inspiring, and her efforts to improve the lives of others through her social media platform and in real life are incredible. The memoir’s frank and honest discussions of spirituality and sexuality are especially excellent because Hart does not gloss over these aspects of her story. This book was certainly worth of an Alex Award, and should be recommended to teens who are interested in the memoir genre.
I should also mention that I listened to this audiobook, which was read by the author. I cannot recommend this enough, because it makes the experience much more intimate. There are moments in the story where Hannah, as a narrator, becomes overcome with emotion, and it highlights the vulnerability and openness that went into the writing of this story.
If this book doesn’t make you want to give Hannah a hug...I don’t know what to tell you.
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