Monday, April 20, 2009

"Trina and Trina"

The profiles featured in Literary Journalism, “The American Man at Age Ten,” by Susan Orlean, and “Trina and Trina,” by Adrian Nicole LeBlanc, are strikingly different in terms of subject matter; their approaches, however, and the artful way in which each writer captures a greater cultural setting and a deeply personal, individualized story. The big picture and the small picture exist alongside each other, as expert storytelling and attention to detail intertwines, cooperatively playing the perspectives off of each other along the way.

Reading “Trina and Trina,” I was most impressed by the immediate surge of sympathy elicited by the description of Trina’s reality. That is, she was hooking herself, begging for money, going to cop crack, and living on the false logic that inducing her own vomiting would help keep her safe from AIDS. The poor girl was lost and her hopeless ignorance of the world was immediately heartbreaking and simultaneously endearing.

I tend to question the role of the narrator in pieces such as this. That being said, LeBlanc’s unapologetic justification for placing herself as a character within “Trina and Trina” was very much appreciated. She writes:

“Bolstered by our companionable road trips, I took a shortcut in trying to make sense out of her crazy life and mistook her traits for mine…The most important difference between us was that I’d been tracked for luck: I stayed dutiful and took the fight to my writing, while Trina, more feisty, less well-loved, and less well-equipped, took it to the street (212).”

Such a candid explanation of her own role in Trina’s repeated intervention and mentorship, in addition to her willingness to appear vulnerable by explaining her shortcomings in rationale, provide a certain credibility to the narrator, perhaps compensating for her relative lack of street-smarts. A hard life is all the story’s subject ever knew.

The idea that Trina just never had a chance is made repeatedly, but still the hope that she will continue the fight is one that invests the reader in the narrative. The words uttered by Trina’s social worker—“she can’t get beyond that point and relate. There is an empty spot in that child that you can’t fill. You can’t move past that spot.”—are heart wrenching I found myself wishing against their truth and hoping for an alternative.

The quotes Orlean uses are powerful in their authenticity, and her decision to write the dialogue in such a way that Trina’s accent shines through further develops Trina’s character and depth of personality. After reading “Trina and Trina,” I will look to select quotes more carefully, placing them strategically in places where the story seems to be losing steam.

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