Seeing Clearly

Thank you for elevating the quality of your authors to the level that Carolyn See displayed in “Diving Into the Wreck” (Feb. 26). Her style was swift and intense, and the story she had to tell tugged at your heart while giving you an education. Keep up the good work.

D. J. Moore

Huntington Beach

See’s story about her dysfunctional family was such a touching, haunting piece that it’s been with me for days. I was delighted when a friend told me that it is an excerpt from a forthcoming memoir.

As a recovering alcoholic who has for years been familiar with the type of experience depicted, I am in awe of See’s ability to so poignantly reveal the pain that flourishes in dysfunctional families, and best of all, that now it is possible to overcome such a heritage.

Denise Ferris

Pacific Palisades

See is one author who can write about even the most harrowing California experiences, personal or fictional, without romanticizing our collective past, but who also never disguises her affection for a place where almost anything can happen.

She is wrong, however, about Wynn being “the (only) one in our family who actually changed, improved, transformed thousands of lives.” In an era when many people blame their current failures on the traumas of their past, and when any portrayal of California’s past is either undercut with cynicism or whitewashed with “good old days” nostalgia, See dares us to look at our experiences, notice how they are a part of us and go ahead and aim for our dreams anyway.

Michael Krumme

Los Angeles

The day before I read See’s excerpt, my mother came to visit. Having just had my second child and feeling about to snap, I asked my mom how she used to get through each day, caring for all five of us. Her matter-of-fact answer was: “Drugs and alcohol, no kidding.” I wasn’t laughing.

Like the author, I am a product of two alcoholics, each from a long line of alcohol abusers from Los Angeles. I suppose I will always take comfort in hearing the stories of others who had alcoholic parents, just as those at Alcoholics Anonymous gatherings tell their stories and listen to the tales of others. But I don’t think that we children of alcoholics laugh as much about our stories or need to embellish them to make our pitch. Our stories are tragic enough and never very funny. We don’t want others to watch us, because we’re always watching ourselves--watching for any sign that drugs and/or alcohol are working their way down through our families.

I’m watching myself as I reach for another glass of Chardonnay--and shudder.

Cecilia Ducos

Palos Verdes Estates