I don’t normally do this, but . . .
I feel compelled to tell you about a fantastic book I recently edited by a woman I found to be truly amazing, interesting, and kind. The book is called Fisheye by Trish Thorpe.
Written with the taut, plot-driven momentum of a fictional yarn, this true story reveals an insider’s intimate details of the glitter and grit lived by Hollywood’s children.
Wedged between talkative, fidgety older brother Spencer (more equipped to interact with electronics than people) and younger sister Grace (a bubbly, pink-sequined, girly girl), tomboy Trish grew into the family golden child – ;unwittingly providing fuel for her narcissist father’s cruelty. Add an alcoholic wannabe movie star mom and a Southern California community full of itself like no other and you have the ingredients for an unforgettable story.
Life for the author and her siblings ricocheted between forced conversations with beautiful people and a house rife with deafening silence. Eventually dreams of stardom eroded, tension became unbearable, and the family imploded. That was just the beginning.
Left on her own, Trish descended into a desperate world of addiction and risk—both physical and emotional—unimaginable from the spoiled, fantasy life of her childhood. A nineteen-year-old boyfriend introduced her to sex at thirteen and became her gateway into a world that her parents never could have imagined. You’ll find yourself shaking your head in wonder as Trish uses her wide-angle (fisheye) observations to guide us through jaw-dropping experiences.
With remarkably adept word craft from a debut author, Thorpe explores issues that are both intensely private and startlingly universal. Drawn from journals she kept while working through personal issues, “Fisheye” carries us from the depths of the unthinkable to an ultimate place of positive reawakening. Yes there are elements of this story that appeal to us individually, but Thorpe’s triumphant emancipation from her past belongs to us all.
I really encourage you to check it out. There are very few books I’ve edited that make me feel personally connected, to the point that I feel like I’m crying and laughing right along with the author. This is one of those few.