Memoir is balm for writer navigating ethics minefields of past

Oksana Marafioti explained that for many people, writing a memoir is a form of revenge. Or at least it can begin that way.

Her first version of "American Gypsy" started like that, a memoir of her Romani family emigrating from the Soviet Union to Hollywood in 1990 when she was 15, only to have her father abandon his family.

She admitted that her first version of her newly published memoir began as a form of revenge against her father, her late stepmother and her aunt. "The first draft was loaded with negative energy," she said.

In later drafts, she came to understand other people's motivations. It became liberating. "Writing the book helped me to forgive them and myself," she said.

By her ninth and final version, Marafioti realized that her three years of writing this book had been therapeutic. By then, she included her memories of being molested by a family friend when she was 9. Only then did she realize how her father's reaction to her molestation (he didn't believe her) shaped her into the kind of woman she is now at 37.

"The one moment I needed him, he wasn't there," she said. It changed their relationship by creating trust issues.

Later, she expanded on that in an email, showing the writing skills that have earned her two fellowships through the Black Mountain Institute at UNLV.

"I think once we're in that place, emotionally, where revenge, self-gratification, anger and all other petty kinds of feelings are cast aside, only then can we write the truth. This is when we're able to sense the heart of the story. Its purpose becomes clear, and suddenly we're not simply writing about some events and people," she wrote.

"Instead we travel back in that time and place, observing and letting our reader tag along and do the same. As an observer, we do not cast opinions on others, but let the story unfold as if we're not a part of it."

A memoir allows a writer to take liberties that a work of nonfiction does not.

"The reality is based on memories, and some are ever shifting," she said. Her mother helped fill in some gaps, yet never explained why her brother's wife abruptly told Marafioti, her little sister and their mother they had to find their own place to live, they were no longer welcome in the aunt and uncle's home.

"No one would reveal the truth," Marafioti said. "I know there was something, but from a 15-year-old's point of view, it really didn't matter."

The book focuses on a family life anyone can understand but also explains her Romani heritage and culture, covering her life until 18, when she moved to Las Vegas.

Marafioti said Gypsy is considered a derogatory term. Yet she used it in her title. If she used the preferred term Romani, she said, "Nobody would know what it's about."

Marafioti is one of four panelists who will be discussing the ethics of writing memoirs during the Vegas Valley Book Festival. The ethics panel will be held Nov. 3 at 11:15 a.m. at the Historic Fifth Street School Auditorium, 401 S. Fourth St. The other panelists scheduled are Kelle Groom, Emily Rapp and Stephen Elliott. The full schedule of events Nov. 1-3 is online at www.vegasvalleybookfestival.org

How many liberties are allowed in re-creating conversations? How do you fill in the gaps? How tenderly do you treat someone who might be in the book? How much of yourself do you hide?

Most of us think we have at least one life story to share, even if just for our families. But who knew a memoir would have ethical minefields and would be a mix of revenge, forgiveness and therapy?

Jane Ann Morrison's column appears Monday, Thursday and Saturday. Email her at Jane@reviewjournal.com or call her at 702-383-0275. She also blogs at lvrj.com/blogs/Morrison.