Meike's Reviews > Love, Pamela

This is not what I expected, and I respect Pamela for it: She could absolutely fill a whole brick of a book with trauma porn and extra juicy anecdotes, but no, she uses her memoir to convey how she sees herself - as a poet. Sure, it feels like she heavily romanticizes her life, for instance when she talks about her young, messed up parents, whom you could certainly describe as unfit and irresponsible, but Pamela opts to frame them as free-spirited instead, interestingly while at the same time depicting their shortcomings. The same with Tommy Lee: He physically abused her, which she does state in no uncertain terms, but it reads like she still loves him. Like it or not: Pamela claims her own narrative, and she refuses to be the victim, be it of men, media, or circumstance.

The way she perceives herself shows that she is a heavy reader of the likes of Jack Kerouac and Anaïs Nin, and you certainly can't fault her for lacking courage. Still, it's the heavily aestheticized presentation that is both the strength and the weakness of book: Sometimes, this reader would have liked to hear some very direct intel on why the author would do things like marry Rick Solomon (twice!) or what the hell a poetic spirit like hers talks about with Kid Rock. Not to judge her, I'm seriously curious, because this woman is bright.

But then again, Pamela has endured so much abuse by the public, it's her right to tell her story on her own terms, and that's exactly what she does. It's more of an art project than a tell-all.