My extended family, circa 1968

I can find no rule stating that a memoir about family must focus on the writer’s immediate family, but the custom seems to be widely observed. Parents and siblings occupy the foreground. Aunts, uncles, and grandparents take up their positions in a dim and sketchy background. The family tableau appears in this configuration as if no other grouping were possible. ┬áBut in writing and in life, anything is possible. So why does the genre adhere so rigidly to this form? Continue reading