ASK FOR HORSES

In this debut memoir, a woman explores pivotal moments in her life by analyzing evocative dreams.

Tau, a teacher and poet, explains the rough, repetitive structure of her work early on: First, she relates an anecdote from her life, then a dream from the same time period, and finally her interpretation of the dream. The first example is a poignant one. She describes being diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer; she then recalls and interprets a dream several weeks prior in which she prepared a house for a big storm. From here, Tau reaches back to her teenage years and moves forward chronologically—from her time at a Quaker high school in British Columbia to her year traveling Europe solo in 1972 to her experiences with many lovers and her adoption of two daughters from China. The accompanying dreams are often symbolic (such as one in which Tau jumped into mud near a stream, signifying her role in her parents’ divorce) or premonitory (such as a dream of caring for an anonymous baby, a harbinger of her adopted daughter’s conception). Occasional sections labeled “Hawkeye” give an appropriately bird’s-eye view of events, and appendices offer broad dream interpretation steps for those interested. Tau’s writing is sharp and lyrical, filled with unexpected imagery, as when she transcribes a book by hand for a lover: “My hair might as well be made of tungsten, blazing away as I sit there copying.” Her tenderness is palpable when recalling her quest for love, including awkward triangles and unsuccessful marriages. She has, however, a tendency to casually spoil her own stories—especially the outcomes of her relationships. There’s a similar casualness toward nuances of privilege, as when she breezily notes the support and housing she received from her family during her year abroad. She’s at her best when grounded in sensory memories: “The soulful wail of a goatskin bagpipe in a Bulgarian dance tune floods out the door and pools around my feet like dark water.”

A dreamlike and visceral set of remembrances that occasionally feel offhand.