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A review by akingston5
The Tenderness of Stones by Marion Fayolle
“We buried one of dad’s lungs. It was a spring day, the trees were bursting with cherries, and the countryside was beautiful. But we were all wearing black for the ceremony. The whole family was there. Men in white bore the enormous lung on their shoulders. Dad was watching with us as they buried a part of his body. Some were sniffling into the handkerchiefs. Others were watching the procession without really grasping that a piece of my father was about to disappear and that, soon, other bits of his body might be removed, until we had buried it all.”
•••
Fayolle begins with this opening passage and goes forth on to a story about the grief, frustration, and absurdity of being with a loved one in those last dying months knowing not when but surely they will die. It’s a fast read that asks for a slow attention, and the illustrations are as much, if not more so, part of the story as the words. The dying of her father is beautifully, humanly told, and I cannot recommend this book enough if you’re searching for something about this stage of life.
•••
Fayolle begins with this opening passage and goes forth on to a story about the grief, frustration, and absurdity of being with a loved one in those last dying months knowing not when but surely they will die. It’s a fast read that asks for a slow attention, and the illustrations are as much, if not more so, part of the story as the words. The dying of her father is beautifully, humanly told, and I cannot recommend this book enough if you’re searching for something about this stage of life.