Malibu Rising

by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Malibu catches fire. It is simply what Malibu does from time to time. Tornadoes take the flatlands of the Midwest. Floods rise in the American South. Hurricanes rage against the Gulf of Mexico. And California burns.

But that land is young once again, ready to grow something new. Destruction. And renewal, rising from the ashes. The story of fire.

Because, just as it is in Malibu’s nature to burn, so was it in one particular person’s nature to set fire and walk away.

Our family histories are simply stories. They are myths we create about the people who came before us, in order to make sense of ourselves.

How were you supposed to change—in ways both big and small—when your family was always there to remind you of exactly the person you apparently signed an ironclad contract to be?

When there is only you, you do not get to choose which jobs you want, you do not get to decide you are incapable of anything. There is no room for distaste or weakness. You must do it all. All of the ugliness, the sadness, the things most people can’t stand to even think about, all must live inside of you. You must be capable of everything.