The Almost Legendary Morris Sisters

When a friend of mine found out that her husband had been having affairs for seventeen of the eighteen years they were together-through four pregnancies and years of romantic vacations-she had the most difficult time reconciling the life she thought she'd led with the one she'd actually had. And also, reconciling herself with the fact that if she'd never found out, her life would have felt as it always had. It was the discovery that changed it. When I was younger I told my brothers that when our parents eventually died, no one should tell me for as long as possible. Let me go on and pretend that they just were too busy to pick up the phone. Maybe even record a few messages to leave for me every now and again. I clearly feel as if what I don't know can't make me sad.




It's not that I feel like I need to be protected from bad news . . . well, maybe it is that.




I think about that a lot-about how much of what defines us at various points in our lives is based on what we are told by the people we trust. Growing up, I had friends who told me they had exotic or interesting backgrounds-that they were part Sioux or Cherokee (hello, Cher? though we were just friends in my head), or that their parents once spent the evening in a New York City nightclub with Muhammad Ali and his wife, or that a friend's mother had gone trick-or-treating with Judy Garland when they were kids. And the family lore I grew up around-the strange people my relatives knew or the exciting places they'd visited, some of which turned out to be true, a lot of which turned out to be embellished, most of which was definitely curated-all goes into how we present ourselves, our lives, and our pasts to the world.




As a young kid, I was a so-so athlete (so, so terrible), and I did almost comically poorly in school ("I just don't understand how you can get a negative grade on an exam," my father once said). I wasn't conscious of the fact that other kids in sixth grade showered and washed their hair regularly until a girl in my class said for Valentine's Day she was going to give me a heart-shaped bottle of Head & Shoulders. (She did not.) So while I was often oblivious to the world around me, I knew that secretly

author of The Shoemaker's Wife

In a world where more and more people think a DNA test will solve all their family mysteries, Julie Klam reminds us that investigating our personal myths takes resourcefulness, curiosity and, yes, bravery. Because as she deconstructs the legends about the Morris sisters, Klam also has to challenge the legends she has manufactured for herself. A moving, insightful family detective story that will leave readers wondering if they dare to examine their own lives and the stories on which they rest. Laura Lippman, New York Times-bestselling author of Lady in the Lake

This is the America I want to see the one where four orphaned immigrant sisters can transform themselves into chain-smoking millionaires. Julie Klam's trademark wit and generosity make this family history a balm for the soul. Mira Jacob, author of Good Talk

Within the first few pages of Julie Klam s memoir, I, too, became obsessed with the mysterious Morris sisters, and thrilled at every new insight into their fiercely nonconformist lives. Klam is a witty and engaging guide, following the trail from a small Romanian town to an orphanage in St. Louis to a bohemian townhouse in the West Village. Part history, part confessional, and wholly entertaining, this book explores the nature of mythology and how unanswered questions leave an indelible mark on our lives. Abbott Kahler, author (as Karen Abbott) of The Ghosts of Eden Park