None but the Brave

There are many reasons to recommend Rosanne Cash’s new memoir, “Composed,” not the least of which is her first-hand account of growing up in one of the first families of American music.

But the depth of her prose on love and loss and What It All Means shines with heartfelt poignancy:

“You begin to realize that everyone has a tragedy, and that if he doesn't, he will. You recognize how much is hidden beneath the small courtesies and civilities of everyday existence. Deep sorrow and traces of great loss run through everyone's lives, and yet they let others step into the elevator first, wave them ahead in a line of traffic, smile and greet their children and inquire about their lives, and never let on for a second that they, too, have lain awake at night in longing and regret, that they, too, have cried until it seemed impossible that one person could hold so many tears, that they too, keep a picture of someone locked in their heart and bring it out in quiet, solitary moments to caress and remember.”

Likewise, her thoughts on the importance of music and art in the light of a loud and hostile society ring true:

"The more exploitative, numbing, and assaulting popular culture becomes, the more we need the truth of a beautifully phrased song, dredged from a real person's depth of experience, delivered in an honest voice; the more we need the simplicity of paint on canvas, or the arc of a lonely body in the air, or the photographer's unflinching eye."

Cash writes with truth and clarity, much like her songs.