“But the fact is,” I continued, “that despite their sadness, and despite my guilt, and despite Egan’s anger, I went ahead and did what I needed to do for myself. In the end, it’s selfish.”
Hagan interrupted me.
“I think you’re wrong there. It feels selfish at the time, because the pain is excruciating, but there is no nobility in hanging on to something that is miserable and false. We have to fight for our happiness in life.”
---
Growing up in the 90’s as a second generation Star Trek fan (it was almost like I had no choice), if you had asked me which Star Trek series was the best, the answer would’ve been, without a doubt, Voyager. The series ran from 1995 to 2001, during which I was 6 to 12 years old. While The Next Generation was on constantly when I was a toddler, Voyager was the Star Trek of my formative years, and Janeway the captain at the helm. As the years have gone by, I’ve revisited the various Star Trek series, and slowly the overarching themes and darker tone of Deep Space Nine have grabbed hold of my heart and crept it’s way into my favourite Star Trek slot, and there’s no denying that, when considering all the captains, there’s a clear best - Jean-Luc Picard. But Janeway’s strength, depth, and unique character has always made her a favourite of mine. Recently I rewatched Voyager, and it wasn’t as spectacular as I remembered it being in my youth, however Mulgrew’s acting and performance never missed a beat, and I gained even more respect for her as an actress.
When she released her memoir, I knew I wanted to read it. Mulgrew is such a strong and capable woman, and her acting, so rooted in theatre, was always captivating. She is, in many ways, the female William Shatner. In fact watching them go head-to-head in Shatner’s 2011’s documentary The Captains, was so entertaining, they were like mirrored copies of each other, each with a plump sense of bravado and importance, and egos that could rival that of God. Actors, am I right?
While I started Born With Teeth expecting a more Star Trek-centered memoir, that would delve into her role as the first female captain of a starship in a period of time that still wasn’t sure what to make of women in a commanding role, I was surprised when it seemed to centre more around Mulgrew’s experience being a mother, and her own relationship with her mother. What I got from this book, was that Mulgrew wasn’t the greatest mother figure. At times she even admits it. Her career is above all to her, as it is for any great actor, and as such, children and family tend to unravel. Mulgrew certainly loved her boys, Ian and Alec, but the overall sense I got from her writing was that, her love for them was constantly butting heads with her love for acting. Early on in the memoir Mulgrew reveals that she had a child when she was in her early twenties and fresh on to the acting scene, whom she gave up for adoption, a choice she immediately regretted. She carried those feelings of remorse and regret with her throughout her entire life, and as much as this memoir highlighted her life and her career, it felt like a letter to her daughter, this phantom figure who was constantly present in the back of Mulgrew’s mind, causing her untold pain and sorrow, which she covered up with acting. It’s not until the end of the memoir when the two finally meet that the tone of the writing seems to shift. Mulgrew’s writing, as prolific as it is, always paints a women with an edge of sorrow buried deep within her, even in the moments of gleeful abandon, there’s this darker side of longing for the child she’d given up that haunts every page. When they finally meet at the end of the memoir, the writing lightens, and it ends on a rather positive note, one of love, acceptance, and carefree permission for Mulgrew to feel happiness.
My one real complaint, and it really as nothing to do with Mulgrew’s style or writing, is that this memoir was riveting, until I put it down. And that’s something all memoirs have in common for me. I love it while I’m reading it, but once I put it down I can’t be bothered to pick it up again. There was nothing driving me to continue reading, and it was a chore to pick up where I’d left off. Even though the writing was fantastic, and Mulgrew’s story was interesting and enlightening. I think it’s because I’m more fiction-driven. Who knows? Still, Born With Teeth is a beautifully crafted memoir, and one I highly recommend.
