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3.84 AVERAGE
3.84 AVERAGE
This was a heartbreaking read. I could almost feel her pain, and it was frightening. The thought of losing your whole family...your children...it's unfathomable. The idea of somehow going on seems impossible. And for her, it was. 7 years after the tragedy, she is still so very raw. Not for the faint of heart, this book.
This was an emotionally difficult book to read. It is a raw account of the author's tragedy and it is heartbreaking-yet so beautifully written. I highly recommend it.
I pulled "Wave" off the "New Books" shelf at the library yesterday afternoon. As I am wont to do with books I am unfamiliar with, I read the first chapter. If an author can peak my interest in that first chapter I keep reading.
Standing at the shelves then sitting in a library chair, 45 pages and several chapters later, I knew "Wave" was a keeper.
WOW! A captivating & gripping read.
"Wave" is Sonali Deraniyagala's first person account of the 2004 tsunami that swept her husband, two sons and her parents away. The book reads like fiction, so much so I had to keep reminding myself this wasn't a far fetched tale, but a true story.
If you are a parent you can't help but wonder how you would have reacted. You know her description of the depths of her sorrow is not exaggerated.
Having said that, I wouldn't classify this as a tear jerker book. I never cried as I read along, instead my feelings were more along the lines of "I can't even begin to imagine, my heart goes out to her...". Reading her words helped remind me to appreciate and value my life and what is in it all the more. As she looked back over her life with her husband and sons, she realized the little daily irritants we all experience should be meaningless. It seemed to me the memories that meant the most were what ones we would deem as small, not necessarily the big, wow memories we make but the sitting on a rock sharing a glass of wine watching the sun set together memories.
Standing at the shelves then sitting in a library chair, 45 pages and several chapters later, I knew "Wave" was a keeper.
WOW! A captivating & gripping read.
"Wave" is Sonali Deraniyagala's first person account of the 2004 tsunami that swept her husband, two sons and her parents away. The book reads like fiction, so much so I had to keep reminding myself this wasn't a far fetched tale, but a true story.
If you are a parent you can't help but wonder how you would have reacted. You know her description of the depths of her sorrow is not exaggerated.
Having said that, I wouldn't classify this as a tear jerker book. I never cried as I read along, instead my feelings were more along the lines of "I can't even begin to imagine, my heart goes out to her...". Reading her words helped remind me to appreciate and value my life and what is in it all the more. As she looked back over her life with her husband and sons, she realized the little daily irritants we all experience should be meaningless. It seemed to me the memories that meant the most were what ones we would deem as small, not necessarily the big, wow memories we make but the sitting on a rock sharing a glass of wine watching the sun set together memories.
3.5 stars. I really need to start reading some less depressing books. The memoir of a woman who lost her husband, children, and parents to the tsunami in the Indian Ocean in 2004. While tremendously sad, it is beautifully told and her story articulates grief and eventual acceptance in a way I haven't encountered before. Even to those who haven't experienced such profound grief, her journey is powerful and instructive.
5 word summary: Losing your whole family sucks. I have nothing but admiration and compassion for Sonali Deranyagali, but there's just not enough here to make an engaging book. Great survival stories need at least one of these elements: a dramatic struggle against the elements, or a life changing spiritual/philosophical reawakening. This has neither: the author survived purely by chance, and her path to healing contains no particular revelations. While this is probably realistic, it's simply not interesting.
This book took me awhile to read even though it is an extremely short book. It is incredibly sad and depressing, so much that I had to often put it down. It is very well written and I can not image how cathartic it was for her to write all this out.
Brutal, devastating, and also well written. I most admired her description of how her grief changes through the years.
This one is impossible to rate with a 5 star system. How does one measure a memoir that is an expression of the crushing personal grief and pain of the author? I'm giving it 3 stars just to give it something. I could just as easily give it 5 stars or none. Evaluating the quality of the writing is just not a concern with this body of work, although I do think it is written well. So how do you judge a book like this? For sure, there is no measuring Sonali Deraniyagala's courage to share this intimate journey with the world.
The author lost the 5 people who meant the most to her in the world in the December 26, 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami that ultimately took the lives of over 200,000 people. As the family was swept up by the massive wave, she was separated from them and the only one to survive. This unsentimental look at the immense grief she has experienced is unsparingly honest and difficult to read. However, she carries the burden of the grief and never overwhelms the readers with her pain. And in the end, it is very much a love story.
The author lost the 5 people who meant the most to her in the world in the December 26, 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami that ultimately took the lives of over 200,000 people. As the family was swept up by the massive wave, she was separated from them and the only one to survive. This unsentimental look at the immense grief she has experienced is unsparingly honest and difficult to read. However, she carries the burden of the grief and never overwhelms the readers with her pain. And in the end, it is very much a love story.
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
It feels terrible to rate a book poorly. It feels even worse to rate a memoir poorly. It feels perhaps the worst to poorly rate a memoir about a tragic personal event that most of us cannot fathom. However, we must consider what distinguishes a memoir from a diary. I've concluded that a diary is a means to work through one's feelings, while a memoir is a recollection of an event or events in one's life to establish a specific narrative. This book does not resemble a memoir in structure at all, in my opinion; it reads more like a private project assigned in therapy to work through grief.
I can respect that grief, perhaps, never has a conclusion; if the writer was better at making that point, I think I would rate this much higher. Instead, what the author presents is a list of memories, but the memories she shares do not draw us closer to a point, nor is the writing conscious enough to be making a "grief has no point" statement. The writing is clunky at best, with very little natural flow. It staggers and repeats itself; the author staggers and repeats herself, too, which makes much more sense, and I wouldn't discredit that. However, that doesn't mean that the writing also has to.
Even if the way she recalls her memories was done in a more intentional way -- a section dedicated to home, a section dedicated to Sri Lanka, a section devoted to abroad, for example -- I would have enjoyed this much more. Instead, the author organizes her chapters in the years following the wave. It seems intuitive, but it isn't. Instead, the reader jumps around as the author recalls her rich childhood, her days at Cambridge, and her days in Yala (which she talks about several times at several different ends of the book). It feels like very little effort was put into structuring the book.
I feel positive about a few points. The initial description of the wave's aftermath is harrowing. The early actions by the author that she describes could have led to a point about how grief makes us bad people -- she does some pretty awful things -- but the book drops that thread as soon as it starts unraveling. The concluding chapter has a beautiful passage about whales, but the final paragraphs fall flat and hardly like an ending.
But on the whole, it was difficult to get through this and to convince myself to read it, and not due to the sorrowful subject mater. I deeply feel for the author, but I wish I hadn't spent my time on this.
I can respect that grief, perhaps, never has a conclusion; if the writer was better at making that point, I think I would rate this much higher. Instead, what the author presents is a list of memories, but the memories she shares do not draw us closer to a point, nor is the writing conscious enough to be making a "grief has no point" statement. The writing is clunky at best, with very little natural flow. It staggers and repeats itself; the author staggers and repeats herself, too, which makes much more sense, and I wouldn't discredit that. However, that doesn't mean that the writing also has to.
Even if the way she recalls her memories was done in a more intentional way -- a section dedicated to home, a section dedicated to Sri Lanka, a section devoted to abroad, for example -- I would have enjoyed this much more. Instead, the author organizes her chapters in the years following the wave. It seems intuitive, but it isn't. Instead, the reader jumps around as the author recalls her rich childhood, her days at Cambridge, and her days in Yala (which she talks about several times at several different ends of the book). It feels like very little effort was put into structuring the book.
I feel positive about a few points. The initial description of the wave's aftermath is harrowing. The early actions by the author that she describes could have led to a point about how grief makes us bad people -- she does some pretty awful things -- but the book drops that thread as soon as it starts unraveling. The concluding chapter has a beautiful passage about whales, but the final paragraphs fall flat and hardly like an ending.
But on the whole, it was difficult to get through this and to convince myself to read it, and not due to the sorrowful subject mater. I deeply feel for the author, but I wish I hadn't spent my time on this.
Deraniyagala describes the indescribable. I will never be the same after reading this book. Momentous.