This is an impossible book to discuss. It is a memoir of a parent who goes through the unimaginable loss of her child, twice. I am in no place to critique her expression of grief, which naturally manifests differently in any person. If she got one minute of relief by writing this book, then it was worth it. That said, I had a difficult time reading this, and not solely because of the subject matter. It did get me pondering on personal relevant situations, which was useful. The presentation of her children, what should have been most important, however, was too cold, analytical, and detached for me to connect to the writer. The focus on rationalism and intellectualism felt at odds with the tragedy. This dichotomy between thinking and feeling was a theme in the book, as it was stated many times, so this is probably the point of the book. Also, the point obviously isn’t for me to connect to the subject matter, as it’s not my life to experience. Again, grief is one of the most personal emotions, so however someone chooses to process it is up to them. I only wish it was easier to sympathize, even if the writer didn't ask for it outright.
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