Through the Storm by Lynne Spears

According to her book Through the Storm (Crown Forum $25, pp.211), Lynne Spears has three missions in life: to outwit the foes sent by Satan, to protect her ‘gift-from-God’ kids and to brandish the badge of Southern super-mom.

Picking up the book, it is difficult at first to banish from your mind the media image of the unabashed, self-promoting succubus of a ‘stage mom;’ the woman who covets the celebrity of her children, then bares her claws to pounce upon that glittering morsel of the fame she craves, at whatever cost to her kids.

But we all know the media possesses a certain flair for fuelling witch-hunts, and Lynne does a fairly decent job of convincing us that she has been a victim of their vilification. Pilloried in the public eye, she has been seen as a money-hungry, aggressive and neglectful mother, who pushed her kids into fame, and now those kids are irrevocably messed up. As Lynne mourns, the world has come to judge her. In a way, we have. We’ve believed what we read. Remember the rumour that this book of hers was being conceived of as a somewhat hypocritical ‘how to’ manuscript on parenting skill; not true. Then the slander spread that Spears was releasing a ‘tell-all book,’ (amoral leech that she is) that dished that all-enthralling dirt on her eldest daughter; again not true.

Instead, she insists that she is a simple, country ‘Mama,’ whose only motive for penning this book was to create something ‘permanent to hand down to her children and grandchildren.’ In fact, much of the detail on Britney (and Jamie Lynne) that you expect and want to read about is respectfully spared, and Spears may actually be congratulated for avoiding sickly, sanctimonious advice-giving altogether (unless you include her subtle counsel of ‘don’t repeat after me!’).

For the most part, she appears to have a pressing need to set the record straight about her and her daughters, to project herself as ‘the mother….and flesh-and blood woman that she is,’ and to generally recount her earlier life as a long-suffering mommy who somehow had to nurture the kids’ talent whilst contending with the antics of her ne’er do well, beer-soaked lout of a husband.

It’s a little self-pitying; the narrative is peppered with cringe-inducing insights into memories of her ‘babies,’ life in sleepy Kentwood, La., Southern hospitality and her relationship with the ‘Lawd.’ Plus, the overall premise of the book is a little confused, and the question of which category or genre it belongs to, remains a mystery (I found it in the ‘music’ section). It is a memoir, of sorts, but then again it could also be classified as an autobiography, or even biography, of Britney.

Snapshots of family history that follow no real chronology, are mingled with sweeping odes to ‘dear’ friends, recollections of Britney’s local then national competitions, auditions and performances, and Lynne’s broad musings on her daughter’s unprecedented rise to fame, then painfully public fall. There is a ‘cut-and-paste,’ feel to it, as though Lynne and her ghost writer were attempting to ‘cram it all in there’ before you got bored, wandered off and decided to spend your 25 bucks on a week’s worth of Starbuck’s coffee – to be honest that would probably be a better use of your ‘green.’

Ultimately, the writing is pretty weak, and Lynne by her own admission, ‘is not all that interesting.’ You find yourself acknowledging that you wouldn’t be reading about this woman’s life of rustic simplicity if she wasn’t mother to the most famous of all pop stars.

But there are some page-turner moments. Admittedly, these only comprise about 15 pages of the book, but within them, Spears gives us a glimpse of fame’s rather ugly underbelly. She depicts fairly effectively the ‘bounty-hunter,’ mentality of the paparazzi, who ‘push and shove, run red lights, and engage in high-speed car chases,’ all in the name of that cheap shot. And then there are the chilling revelations about the wily Lufti, who was apparently drugging and disorientating our Britters, orchestrating the intrusive coverage of her heart-breaking demise, and perhaps even causing it.

Having gone into it distrusting this woman, you do find yourself feeling some sympathy and even rapport towards the end of the book. However, for someone who identifies herself first and foremost as a mother who only wants the best for her ‘iddy biddy girl,’ she fails to address the all-important question, of why Britney suffered this melt-down to begin. It is never dealt with. And you don’t want to hear an explanation for voyeurism’s sake, but for hers. Britney feels like the only problem not solved, boxed and wrapped in the pretty-bow style of Lynne’s slightly saccharine conclusions about her life and kids. It’s obvious that Britney has "daddy issues", with her father being mostly absent, and often abusive and alcoholic throughout. You can see it all, but Lynne does not. Here is a girl who having grown up in a financially and emotionally insecure home, was forcefully thrust into the lime-light young! She came under the control of mercenary, be-suited managers as a product. She would have attended parties and events with people twice her age, perhaps even encountered and engaged in scenes of showbiz debauchery. She married mediocre Kevin in an attempt to capture the stability she craved, and when it all fell apart, so too did she. As an adult, she appears to have gaping holes in her overall development, and you cannot help but ask yourself, ‘Where was her Mama?’