Looking back, I can see that it all started to fall apart with my first marriage. Until then, I had marveled to myself almost smugly about how unaffected I was by my crazy past and family. Even as my career took off in my late teens and early twenties, I fell into none of the typical pitfalls that many survivors of challenging childhoods did; I never did drugs, I had a healthy relationship with food, I didn’t engage in casual sex, and I only drank as much as my friends did. But for me, it was my craving for normal — that dangling carrot that seemed always just beyond my reach — that would be my undoing.
North of Normal holds its own against other memoirs of bizarre childhoods — The Glass Castle or Running with Scissors — and it’s always amazing to me when someone like Cea Sunrise Person (or Jeannette Walls or Augusten Burroughs) seems to turn out okay. Born into a family of nomadic, nudist, free-loving, pot-smoking hippies, Person could well have fallen through every crack — her childhood was one of no structure, no stability, no sexual discretion among the surrounding adults — but having had glimpses of “normal” throughout the years, she left home at thirteen to become a globe-trotting supermodel; in effect becoming the face of the consumerist society that her grandparents fled when they started their journey north. This is an incredible story, well told; a story of surviving an unconventional childhood, and then recognising and embracing the strengths that experience provided. (It is only by coincidence that I just learned a film based on this memoir is currently showing at this year’s Toronto International Film Festival; I hope it generates even more interest in this fine book.)
The idea that had been brewing in his mind since his teens was pulling at him stronger than ever now. He had heard talk about a movement up north in Canada, a land known for its harsh climate and gentle handling of disillusioned Americans. But a new country was only the start of my grandfather’s plan. He knew how to hunt, how to survive in the wild, and he had some exciting ideas about shelter. What his kids needed was fresh mountain air and dirt between their toes. If he could just get them away from the city and into nature, back to the basics of food, water, clothing and shelter, they might still stand a chance.
Cea’s grandfather — Papa Dick — first decided to find a piece of Canadian wilderness for his family when he realised that his four teenaged children were failing to thrive in California: all were dropouts who smoked weed all day (with their parents) and brought random strangers home at night; the oldest daughter regularly got beat up by her Hells Angels boyfriend; the only son routinely dropped acid and was teetering on schizophrenia; the mentally challenged youngest daughter (at 13) brought home new guys every night; and their fifteen-year-old daughter just found out she was pregnant. They eventually ended up in northern Alberta — gaining permission from a band of Cree to set up their homemade teepee on Native land — and for the next few years, the Person family lived off the land, with Papa Dick running wilderness survival camps to make a small income. Cea’s early childhood was one of running naked through the meadows, savouring bear meat, and turning her back to the sounds of her mother having sex with strangers in the small shelter they shared. Cea’s mother eventually took her on the road with a series of losers — always high, usually topless, generally having sex in front of her distressed daughter — and while Cea always dreamed of returning to the freedom of her grandparents’ camp, when they did return (now to the Yukon), she was forced to realise that the no-rules lifestyle existed because her grandparents didn’t really care about anyone else. Cea and her mother would next move to Calgary — existing just above the poverty line, more or less supported by the Mom’s married boyfriend — and it was while she was in high school there that Cea saw just enough "normal" to want her piece of it.
When I got back to my room, I stood gazing at the collage over my bed. I had found the frame in our back alley, and spent hours pasting into it pictures of models cut from magazines. I took a deep breath and stood up tall. The idea that had been in my head for so many years now suddenly seemed a lifeline. There was one way to escape my crazy family, and all I had to do was grab hold of it.
There are some of her early modelling photos among the pictures in this book — proving that Cea is undeniably photogenic — but what a way to escape, at thirteen. At that point in her life, Cea understood that her childhood had been more neglectful than idyllic — she held a lot of resentment towards her mother, her absent father, and her grandparents — but eventually, decades later, information is shared with Cea that allows her to gain a new understanding of her mother and she arrives at a place of peace; ultimately embracing the challenges that had formed her.
This review is just the barest of overviews — some of the details in the book could make your hair stand on end — but I hope it gives the sense that this is a worthwhile read. Cea has an engaging voice, her story is stranger-than-fiction, and having reached her forties before writing of her childhood, she had time to reflect and make sense of her experiences.
