Memoirs have always been a bit “hit-or-miss” for me. Sometimes, I get sucked right into a person’s story and find their thoughts to be incredibly captivating; other times, I just can’t relate to the author. It’s been quite some time since I last picked up a memoir, in part due to my busy class schedule and in part due to my recent obsession with thriller books. Anyway, when my mom mentioned that she was reading Becoming Duchess Goldblatt with her book club, I became fascinated by two things: the author’s anonymity, and the novelty of a memoir devoted to the real human being behind a popular social media personality.
The fundamental question at the heart of the book is this: when your life is in shambles, can an online persona help you emerge from the ashes? Before starting to read Becoming Duchess Goldblatt, my answer to that question would’ve been “absolutely not.” I’ve always subscribed to the idea that getting too sucked into social media can only add further problems to your life—the need for validation and the superficiality are both pretty detrimental. However, the author of this book had the complete opposite experience. In the process of a bitter divorce in which she lost precious time with her son and numerous friends, Duchess Goldblatt became the powerful, wise, and ever-loving alter ego who urged her to keep going.
I was blown away by the author’s ability to not only create a successful online persona, but also to open up a space in which an entire community could form. Duchess Goldblatt embodies what people want to see in a friend: she’s quick-witted, she always forgives, and she makes an effort to respond to every single one of her fans personally. Here are just a few of my favorite Duchess Goldblatt tweets, which are sprinkled throughout the book to show exactly what her amazing Twitter presence is like:
“I try to keep my abiding love for all humanity in one place, but somehow it always ends up in piles on the dining room table.”
p. 14
“Duchess Goldblatt Holiday Hours (please note for your records): at dawn, just before dusk, uncomfortable silences, and Tuesdays, 7-9am.”
p. 126
“New Year’s Eve, steam the new year in a pot of water with a bay leaf. Any months that don’t open on their own are no good. Throw them out.”
p. 162
At the same time I smiled at these wonderful tweets, my heart ached for the author. She skillfully alternates these doses of Goldblattian wit and humor with anecdotes about her crippling post-divorce loneliness, growing up with an alcoholic brother, and her beloved father who tried in vain to instill a love for humanity in her before passing away. The author hits rock bottom, yet she somehow manages to do what seems to be impossible: uplifting herself and thousands of people online with an account that allows friends to meet and troubled souls to vent about their difficulties.
Duchess Goldblatt takes care of the world around her just as much as she distracts the author from her disappointing real life. I was amazed that at the same time the author felt horrible separation anxiety from her son, she was receiving tons of fan mail in the form of letters, trinkets, and even pies from Duchess Goldblatt’s online admirers. This is an example of social media giving a struggling person a way to love and care for others, even when seemingly nobody loves and cares for her.
In conclusion, I found this book to be an emotional roller coaster. I felt thrilled at some points and very sad at other points, but Duchess Goldblatt kept me going, and I know she’s kept the author going, too. I may not be able to meet the talented writer behind Duchess Goldblatt in real life, but I advise anyone with a Twitter account to get acquainted with Her Grace. Here she is:
