ROLLER COASTER

Searle’s memoir offers a surreal take on growing up in Colorado.

The author was born in 1961; he describes himself as having been a “happy youngster with golden blonde hair.” He lived with his mother, Susan, in North Denver in a small apartment. (Their lodgings contained a framed picture of a cat with text reading “May life always be purrrrrrfect?”) Searle writes of many abusive interactions with his stepfather, describing the stress their relationship put on him: “Each school day unraveled like the pages of a sinister novel, the ticking clock a relentless pursuer in an escalating chase against a monstrous adversary: my angry, intoxicated stepfather.” The author recalls a visit to Susan’s family in Lodgepole, Nebraska. Though he has fond recollections of his grandmother and other family members in Lodgepole (like his Uncle Carl, who persevered despite suffering horrific burns in an accident), Susan’s affair with a married man would cause quite a rift in the family. (A rather eerie family trip to see a nearby nuclear missile silo also puts an unsettling spin on things.) Before all of this real-life drama is discussed, the memoir provides a look into the author’s dreamworld: As a child, Searle visited two amusement parks in the greater Denver area that left lasting impressions. These were places of both fascination and nightmares: In one bad-dream scenario, a hoard of spiders caused a chaotic disturbance; in another, the author and his mother met a curious man named Mr. Harrison, who had, amongst other things, an intelligent monkey named Tipsy, a time machine, and an alien (“The creature appeared translucent with light green rainbows of color”).

Searle has hit upon an altogether unique way to convey what are undeniably unusual life experiences. The reader is immersed in the worlds of Lodgepole, Nebraska, and Denver, Colorado, places that seem normal enough on the surface but are nevertheless full of surprises. (The author’s grandmother casually warns him of the Cold War ordnance some 25 miles from Lodgepole: “If these missiles are ever launched from underneath the ground, it means the end of the world.”) Searle effectively conveys “memories that straddled the line between enchantment and dread.” These, combined with imaginative elements like Mr. Harrison, result in a reading experience that is much different from more traditional, chronological, just-the-facts works of self-reflection. The author’s verbose prose does not always make things clear; grandiose statements like, “my youth unfolded with the solace of a timeless allure of several children’s books, which resonates with ever-greater hooks in later-life fables and significance” can be distracting. The dialogue can also prove murky—for instance, Searle’s grandmother asks him, “So, Peter, will you please explain to me why you placed a fork into a light socket at your home and placed me and your mother into a frightful drama of you acting like Benjamin Franklin?” Despite such awkward passages, there is a compelling rhythm to the narrative. Distinguished by peculiar storytelling choices along the way, the book overflows with oddities and intrigue.

A stylistically distinctive and altogether bizarre—yet inviting—memoir.