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3.84 AVERAGE
3.84 AVERAGE
challenging
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
fast-paced
Content Warnings
Graphic: Alcoholism, Child death, Cursing, Death, Mental illness, Self harm, Suicidal thoughts, Grief, Medical trauma, Suicide attempt, Death of parent, Alcohol, Injury/Injury detail
Put this on my list for the good reviews, but was already into it before I realized how very disturbing her tragic story is, then couldn't quite set it aside.
Devastating and enthralling. I don't think there's any pain like losing your children. It's wonderous and inspiring how people can go on.
Also, she's now remarried to Aunt Petunia / the Shrink from Fleabag??
Also, she's now remarried to Aunt Petunia / the Shrink from Fleabag??
Raw and real. What I appreciate most about this memoir is that the author makes herself very vulnerable. She opens up about her deepest shame and regrets. The book takes you on a journey, but not to recovery, hope and healing. This is a journey through the everyday emptiness after loss.
I read memoirs like these, because I somehow feel like I owe it to the author and maybe also to myself. I haven't been through any such loss and therefore have no way of knowing what it's like, but I do know it's in our nature to feel discomfort and denial at tragedy. We instinctively shield ourselves from the helplessness and sorrow, leaving our afflicted friends feeling misunderstood and alone. Facing suffering ultimately generates a deeper understanding of the fragile nature of life, happiness and prosperity. Every day is a gift and nothing we have is truly ours to keep.
I admire the realisation Deraniyagala comes to towards the end of the book:
Loss is forever. It is imprinted on your life, your identity.
"I can rest with my disbelief about what happened, and with the impossible truth of my loss, which I have to compress often and misshape, just so I can bear it - so I can cook or teach or floss my teeth."
I read memoirs like these, because I somehow feel like I owe it to the author and maybe also to myself. I haven't been through any such loss and therefore have no way of knowing what it's like, but I do know it's in our nature to feel discomfort and denial at tragedy. We instinctively shield ourselves from the helplessness and sorrow, leaving our afflicted friends feeling misunderstood and alone. Facing suffering ultimately generates a deeper understanding of the fragile nature of life, happiness and prosperity. Every day is a gift and nothing we have is truly ours to keep.
I admire the realisation Deraniyagala comes to towards the end of the book:
"For I am without them, as much as I am on my own. And when I hold back this truth, I am cut loose, adrift, hazy about my identity. Who am I now?"
Loss is forever. It is imprinted on your life, your identity.
emotional
sad
slow-paced
Gut wrenching and courageous. This is not a fun read but I think it’s an important one. I debated on 4 vs 5 stars for this and will err for 5 given the courage to write this unflinching account.
Alle lovende kritieken ten spijt: het heeft me niet geraakt zoals het anderen klaarblijkelijk wel raakte. Het is me te persoonlijk, te individueel. De kinderen zie ik niet voor me, haar liefde voor hen wel. Alleen in de hoofdstukken over haar man zie ik mensen voor me, komt ook wie zij is als mens, naast rouwende moeder.
Wat zij heeft meegemaakt, is afschuwelijk, dat gun je niemand, maar als boek werkt het voor mij niet.
Wat zij heeft meegemaakt, is afschuwelijk, dat gun je niemand, maar als boek werkt het voor mij niet.
challenging
dark
reflective
sad
slow-paced
It is incredibly difficult to put a rating on a story so absolutely tragic but ultimately, the author is a good writer whose story is not well-written. It also doesn't help that she's not particularly warm or likable. I guess I just wanted it to be over, it was mostly neither here nor the for me.