When I was 16-going-on-17, I did what Marina Keegan’s family and friends did — I put together a collection of my work until that point and printed it.
These 100-plus pages in total were edited (as much as they could be before deadline) and then stuffed into a Manila envelope and mailed to the Davidson Fellows Scholarship for Literature judges. I didn’t get the scholarship, but Marina Keegan’s posthumous collection of short stories and essays, “The Opposite of Loneliness,” reminds me of that body of work — how it was flawed but promising, hinting how I would still develop as a young writer.
Keegan debut book, “The Opposite of Loneliness,” is full of hope, talent and potential, but you read it knowing that Keegan never told all the stories she could have. She died at 22 — five days after she graduated magna cum laude from Yale University.
The title of Keegan’s book is from Keegan’s essay of the same name, which was published in The Yale Daily News after her sudden and tragic death in 2012. After she died, her parents, teachers and friends compiled her fiction, non-fiction and journal entries into Keegan’s one and only book, “The Opposite of Loneliness.”
If I had died at 17 — five days after my high school graduation, I wouldn’t have wanted my friends and family to publish my work like this, mostly because I’m a perfectionist and I cringe when I re-read anything I’ve written before. The pages I had submitted in the scholarship application were filled with angsty poetry and undeveloped fiction. And while I love to see my name in print, I’m not sure if I would have wanted the world to remember me as imperfect.
Still, Keegan’s one and only book, “The Opposite of Loneliness,” is perfect in spite (or perhaps because) of its imperfections. Some of the stories and essays could have been more polished, but the fact that there are flaws makes the work that much more inspirational — like we, too, could achieve what Keegan did in her short, but full life.
There’s no denying Keegan’s gift. Her essays and short stories are full of life and human insight. In “Cold Pastoral,” she writes about the pain of knowing your partner was still in love with his ex-girlfriend; “Winter Break” is about falling in love as your parents’ relationship is falling apart; and “Hail, Full of Grace” is about encountering an ex years later and imagining what could have been. The most inspiring of these works is an essay which gives the book its namesake — the essay that tells us “how we’re young, so young, and how we have so much time to follow our dreams.”
I’ve never met Keegan, but through her words, I feel like I know her because she reminds me of the girl I was, am and could be — that girl who contemplated an English degree before she settled into journalism, that girl who spent her senior year in high school writing autobiographical essays for college applications, that girl who grew up with Shakespeare and Harry Potter and listens to NPR, that girl whose a writer with all the time to write and edit and re-write.