Pamela Anderson is having a moment, and Love, Pamela is the latest from the cultural icon. After Pamela, A Love Story, this is another venue for the star to tell her own story on her own terms. For years, Anderson has been the butt of jokes and commentary made in very poor taste. Now, in an era where women are reclaiming their own stories, these are exactly the perspective that readers and pop culture fans need.
Immediately, it’s evident how much Anderson values the opportunity to tell her own story, considering how much she has been dragged by the press for simply existing. So many others have tried to tell her story of the years in the course of her career. It’s understandable that Anderson would want the opportunity to use her own voice to express her perspective and versions of events that unfolded in the public eye.
In terms of style, while it’s clear that Anderson sees her life poetically, the actual poetry often comes across as disruptive. While some of the poetic breaks function as transitions between stories, others interrupt the story’s natural flow. While Anderson may conceptualize herself as a poet, the poetry truthfully could have been its own project, separate from her memoir. It is too bad that her poetry isn’t able to be showcased in the way that Anderson evidently wanted.
Throughout her memoir, Anderson so heartbreakingly illustrates the cycle of abuse. The way she speaks about her father in dualities, that he was verbally and physically abusive but is still someone she loves and admires is incredibly authentic. The fact that she is so overtly forgiving to men who have committed unspeakable crimes against her is proof that this trauma runs deep. Anderson’s self-awareness is what makes so much of her personal story compelling. The fact that she is able to draw parallels and connections between abuse in her past and the decisions she made shows how much she has learned from life.
Unfortunately, Anderson’s traumatic past has not yet given her insight into the terrible men that have been in and out of her life. Whether it’s Tommy Lee, Anderson’s abusive ex-husband, or Julian Assange, who has been credibly accused of sexual assault, Anderson comes across as far too forgiving of men who do terrible things. Sure, Lee is the father of both of her children, but he is also credibly accused of multiple incidents of abuse. Additionally, Anderson isn’t able to fully analyze why being friends with Julian Assange may not be the healthiest thing for her.
Finally, the story makes clear that Anderson sees her identity and her strength in being a mother to her two sons. Reading this book, it’s evident that Anderson wants nothing but the best for her sons as they build their own respective lives. This is perhaps best illustrated by Anderson supporting her son in seeking rehab treatment in consideration of his family history of addiction. This is a commendable and healthy way for parents to approach their children proactively seeking help.
Love, Pamela is an intriguing, imperfect look at an intriguing, imperfect woman. This is a unique inside look at a woman who has been maligned for years simply for existing in the body that she does. It is long past time that fans listen to Anderson herself rather than tabloids. Anderson is the perfect spokesperson for celebrities who feel dehumanized. Hopefully, this is not the last time we will hear from a woman who obviously has a lot to say.
Love, Pamela is available now.