Editorial Content for The Skin Above My Knee: A Memoir

Many artists know the chilling way that fear of failure can creep up on them after not practicing their art for days or even weeks. For Marcia Butler --- the narrator of the frank yet emotional memoir THE SKIN ABOVE MY KNEE --- missing one day of the oboe is not only taboo, but a bad omen. Something terrible will happen, she is sure. As a kid, Butler is introduced to Kirsten Flagstad singing the aria “Liebestod” from the opera Tristan und Isolde while her mother vacuums with a Hoover. It’s a good thing she can still hear the music.

Flagstad is her muse, but her mother is her inspiration, even if she is cold. Her father is her antihero. Because of him, Butler’s chance to practice the oboe on Saturdays comes with a price she’ll never forget. Unfortunately, her mother is also compromised, someone Butler longs to be close to but who cannot manage to break through the ice trapping her, because then she, too, might fall apart.

"THE SKIN ABOVE MY KNEE is, at its core, the story of mothers and daughters, the men who consume them, and the passions that save them --- or at least one of them."

Butler lives and breathes music; the oboe is not her instrument of choice but the instrument that chooses her --- the one that saves her. Flagstad is her stable companion through bouts of drug addiction, abusive boyfriends, pesky children and controlling relationships.

Known throughout Long Island as a child prodigy for music, Butler wins a scholarship to the Mannes School of Music, thrusting her out of a troubled home and into an even more decadent city. Butler paints 1970s New York City with dark brushstrokes. Dangerous people live in the shadows --- men who chew and swallow glass and hit; women who will use your vulnerability to consume you; husbands who know your potential but are afraid of your success, almost making you forget your worth…until you remember.

Butler is fiercely independent. She’s the girl who leaves home and makes something of herself, even after being abandoned. Even the oboe is a force to be reckoned with. It lives in Butler’s soul and will not rest. Its spirit calls her, and she knows she must continue her art, even in the face of adversity. She will not let herself go.

One day, a little girl hears Butler play. She, too, feels the calling. The oboe calls on people as if by magic. Butler worries that the girl’s passion will not be cultivated, and maybe this fear stems from the way her parents neglected her. Still, she continues forward.

Watching Butler go from show to show, and practice to practice, even when she can hardly sit up, lets the reader know that she is a true artist. It makes us question our own work ethic and ask ourselves: What do we love? What calls to us? Weaved throughout the story are tales of Butler’s musical journey. Her unwavering dedication lands her jobs. Those artistic gigs that are often looked at as big breaks are really a result of what blood, sweat and tears produce --- talent.

THE SKIN ABOVE MY KNEE is, at its core, the story of mothers and daughters, the men who consume them, and the passions that save them --- or at least one of them. It’s about fragile sisters who fight for the last ounce of their parents’ love, proving that adults do maintain their childlike vulnerability, as well as their need for closeness and closure. It’s about ultimately loving yourself, because that’s who, at the end of the day, got you through even the darkest of times. That, and your oboe and the wonderful people who believed in you.