To be sure, some brothers and sisters have
relationships that are easy. But oh, some relationships can
be fraught. Confusing, too: How can two people share the
same parents and turn out to be entirely
different?
Marie Brenner’s brother, Carl—yin to her
yang, red state to her blue state—lived in Texas and in the
apple country of Washington state, cultivating his orchards,
polishing his guns, and (no doubt causing their grandfather
Isidor to turn in his grave) attending church, while Marie,
a world-class journalist and bestselling author, led a
sophisticated life among the “New York libs” her brother
loathed.
From their earliest days there was a gulf
between them, well documented in testy letters and telling
photos: “I am a textbook younger child . . . training as
bête noir to my brother,” Brenner writes. “He’s barely six
years old and has already developed the Carl Look. It’s the
expression that the rabbit gets in Watership Down
when it goes tharn, freezes in the
light.”
After many years apart, a medical crisis
pushed them back into each other’s lives. Marie temporarily
abandoned her job at Vanity Fair magazine, her
friends, and her husband to try to help her brother. Except
that Carl fought her every step of the way. “I told you to
stay away from the apple country,” he barked when she showed
up. And, “Don’t tell anyone out here you’re from New York
City. They’ll get the wrong idea.”
As usual, Marie—a
reporter who has exposed big Tobacco scandals and
Enron—irritated her brother and ignored his orders. She
trained her formidable investigative skills on finding
treatments to help her brother medically. And she dug into
the past of the brilliant and contentious Brenner family,
seeking in that complicated story a cure, too, for what
ailed her relationship with Carl. If only they could find
common ground, she reasoned, all would be
well.
Brothers and sisters, Apples and Oranges.
Marie Brenner has written an extraordinary memoir—one that
is heartbreakingly honest, funny and true. It’s a book that
even her brother could love.