‘You Could Make This Place Beautiful’ Review: Maggie Smith’s Beautifully Bittersweet Memoir

If any readers remain uncertain as to whether personal challenges inspire the best art, Maggie Smith’s “You Could Make This Place Beautiful” may win some over. In her latest book, Smith — poet by trade, memoirist by necessity — covers lots of ground. Best known for her 2016 poem “Good Bones” — a work that continues to go semi-viral on social media in moments of national mourning — her memoir, “You Could Make This Place Beautiful,” renders her more vulnerable than any poem ever could. Smith walks readers through her marriage and the birth of her two children, reveals the behind-the-scenes of her successful creative career, and details her emotionally and logistically painful divorce.

Due to her celebrated poetry prowess, it’s no surprise that Smith is an excellent writer. While an autobiography may not seem like the natural choice for someone who has dedicated their life to mastering a different literary form, Smith takes to the genre with exceptional ease. Her poetic capacity to succinctly capture and convey her emotions combined with an ability to deepen the bond with her audience allows her voice to shine through.

“You Could Make This Place Beautiful” is beautiful precisely because it luxuriates in the complicated and painful emotions that Smith has spent her career encapsulating in verse. The chapters are numerous and short — some are less than one page, and their writing styles vary, yet they still allow for more unrestrained personal expression than most poetry.

Smith goes to great lengths to clarify that her memoir is solely her side of the story; she never purports to know what it felt like to be on the other side, to understand her ex-husband’s emotions or decisions. While the particularities of her divorce are written in painstaking detail, there is a clear purpose for each word, as these experiences come with valuable lessons to learn. Readers learn of the importance of not relying on a spouse, financially or emotionally, or the significance of shielding children from the realities of a divorce. But most importantly, Smith reminds us that children always know more than adults think they do.

A highlight of this work is the overwhelming sense that both Smith and the trajectory of her marriage is relatable: The silent, growing resentment, the erratic fits of rage, the futile attempts to salvage a connection that was lost long ago — all of it reads as though it could, in theory, happen to anyone. Otherwise happy marriages can and do buckle under the stresses of an unequal parenting partnership or unfair work expectations. In this way, the book acts as a warning to readers. The overarching lesson of the book may be to simply let the natural changes of life happen, even while acknowledging the extraordinary pain of those changes.

This book offers a wide array of interpretations depending on the reader. Divorced adults may take solace in Smith’s ability to find joy and independence in her post-marriage life. Mothers may find the discussions of Smith’s parenthood anxieties — the same ones that led to the writing of “Good Bones” all those years ago — to be extremely cathartic. Younger readers may learn the importance of choosing a partner carefully, and that forever is never guaranteed.

“You Could Make This Place Beautiful” is a testament to the power of vulnerability. Smith’s words, once again, will bring comfort to many simply by showing readers that they are not alone, and that navigating this world is hard. Smith does so in a way that is exceptionally incisive and authentic, leading to nothing less than an exceptional reading experience.

— Staff writer Carmine J. Passarella can be reached at carmine.passarella@thecrimson.com