Finding a Secret Sister, Finding Self

It's been quite a year so far, in terms of authors and honesty. From the James Frey firestorm to this week's news about teen author Kaavya Viswanathan's apparent penchant for plagiarism, the nature of truth, memory, and artistic license repeatedly have been called into question.

Jaded readers will be relieved, then, to know that April Book Sense Pick Secret Girl: A Memoir by Molly Bruce Jacobs (St. Martin's Press) skillfully combines facts and imagination, retellings and musings. The author clearly delineates the passages and vignettes that have been tempered by time and memory, resulting in a strong voice and a reading experience that feels, at its heart, honest.

In Secret Girl, Jacobs tells the story of her younger sister Anne who, in the 1950s, was hidden away in an institution after being diagnosed as hydrocephalic and mentally retarded. The author didn't meet her sister until the two women were in their 30s, and she is straightforward about why it took so long.

Molly Bruce Jacobs

Jacobs doesn't stint on discomfiting details about her parents, her sister (Anne's twin), or herself. Rather, she refrains from glossing over her family's failings in its neglect of Anne, and her own role in keeping her sister a secret for so many years. She's also matter-of-fact about her longtime battle with alcoholism, and the questionable nature of her own assumptions and justifications.

When BTW spoke with Jacobs, she was in a motel in Missouri; she'd pulled off the highway to do the interview on her road-trip back from book readings in Santa Fe and Albuquerque, en route to her home in Maryland. Despite a bit of road-fatigue, Jacobs (who goes by "Brucie") was clear about her purpose for writing Secret Girl.

"When I wrote the book, I didn't worry about what others would think -- my priority was to tell my sister's story," she said. "I wanted to tell the truth and also be compassionate toward [my parents] ... but the most important thing was writing about Anne, someone who couldn't tell her own story."

Jacobs grew up in a wealthy Baltimore family, one that could have well afforded to care for Anne at home. But, as the author learned when she began to talk to doctors and conduct research about the time period in which Anne was born, "there were many, many secret children then. They were sent straight to institutions, and a lot of mothers were told it was their fault.... Doctors didn't want the parents to bond with their children at all. It happened all the time, apparently."

Jacobs was 13 when she learned of Anne's existence. Their father, Dice, told Jacobs and her sister about Anne and, while the children's most basic questions were answered, the discussion ended and the secret was tucked away again.

In Secret Girl, Jacobs writes of that revelatory evening: "When dinner is over, I tell myself that my parents have taken care of Anne.... There's no niche for her in our family, or home. She's an embarrassment, a shameful thing. Though they don't come right out and say it, I understand that Anne is a family secret.... I don't have to think about her ever again."

Over the next 25 years, Jacobs followed her parents' example -- and, perhaps, implicit command -- by keeping the family secret. But despite her career as a lawyer, her frequent heavy drinking, her marriage and her two sons, the author could not erase Anne from her mind.

At 38, Jacobs said, "I had quit drinking after so many years, and was able to see what was important. In therapy, you really have to face yourself -- you have a witness there. And having the therapist witness that I had never seen Anne before ... that's what got me to see her."

It was through getting to know Anne, and through discovering simple things such as her fondness for coffee and the color red, that Jacobs was able to begin emerging from the secrecy and suppression that was the backdrop to her life: "It was amazing to me to see that person I'd avoided all my life, and to see what I'd repressed. [Anne] saw the joy in simple things, and was happy just to be Anne, whereas I had spent my whole life not happy being Brucie, and trying to be someone else."

Jacobs said that, at first, she was overwhelmed by the excitement and catharsis that came from meeting Anne: "At first, I idealized her...I was enthralled, intrigued, in love with her, and then I began to see her as herself. She was a child and an adult, and difficult to deal with sometimes."

Ultimately, it was that realization, and the revelation that truth trumps so-called normalcy and perfection, that allowed Jacobs to see Anne as a counterpart, an emblem -- and a sister. These changes didn't sit well with Jacobs' other family members, who have been unable to embrace the author's new sense of self: "I realized that people have roles in families. When I was no longer the drunk they'd worry or fret about, my role changed, and I don't think they knew how to deal with me.... They didn't know why I went to therapy, or didn't want to be a lawyer. The crowning thing I did was to go see Anne. My life changed."

It's still changing now -- in addition to taking cross-country drives to book readings, Jacobs has developed web skills ("A year ago, I never would've dreamt I'd have a website !"), has been doing interviews and readings about Secret Girl, and is contemplating writing another book.

She said she'd like to one day write a memoir about her son, who died at age 11 on a family trip to Africa. "I'm not ready yet, though. [In order to write about my sister,] I had to come to an understanding about Anne and what it was all about in my life. In regard to my son, I just don't understand it. I don't know what I would say." In the meantime, she said, "I want to write a book that's funny! I want to go to a reading and laugh."

Jacobs added that she's been fielding e-mails and letters from those who think she should become a lobbyist on behalf of the mentally retarded. The author will be on a panel at an upcoming Association for Retarded Citizens conference in Baltimore, where she will "talk about Anne, and contribute what I can."

But, she said, "I'm not a public person. I feel writing is a private thing, and reading is a private thing. I'd like to do something -- if the right opportunity comes, I will see it and take it. Who knows?" --Linda M. Castellitto