Before I Forget

 

Before I Forget by Tory Henwood Hoen

Fiction

2025

Finished on 3/22/2026

Rating: 3/5 (Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

A funny, heartfelt, late coming-of-age story that examines the role of memory in holding us back—and in moving us forward

Call it inertia. Call it a quarter-life crisis. Whatever you call it, Cricket Campbell is stuck. Despite working at a zeitgeist-y wellness company, the twenty-six-year-old feels anything but well. Still adrift after a tragedy that upended her world a decade ago, she has entered early adulthood under the weight of a new burden: her father’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis.

When Cricket’s older sister Nina announces it is time to move Arthur from his beloved Adirondack lake house into a memory-care facility, Cricket has a better idea. In returning home to become her father’s caretaker, she hopes to repair their strained relationship and shake herself out of her perma-funk. But even deeply familiar places can hold surprises.

As Cricket settles back into the family house at Catwood Pond―a place she once loved, but hasn’t visited since she was a teenager―she discovers that her father possesses a rare gift: as he loses his grasp of the past, he is increasingly able to predict the future. Before long, Arthur cements his reputation as an unlikely oracle, but for Cricket, believing in her father’s prophecies might also mean facing the most painful parts of her history. As she begins to remember who she once was, she uncovers a vital truth: the path forward often starts by going back.

I spotted a copy of Before I Forget on the new release shelf at my library and decided to give it a try. Other than the Alzheimer's premise, I went into the novel cold. Had I read the blurb, I might have thought twice about borrowing the book.

Before I Forget is no Still Alice. Hoen's novel deals with young love and loss, finding oneself, caregiving of an aging parent, and a new romance. Alzheimer's is a backdrop to Cricket's story, rather than being placed front and center. The specifics of her duties as her father's caregiver are simplistic: fixing a glass of lemonade; walking down to the lake with her father; driving him to restaurants or grocery shopping. The only indication of his dementia is his inability to recognize his daughters, and toward the end, climbing into a stranger's car. 

Before I Forget lacks the depth and nuance of Lisa Genova's brilliant novel about early-onset Alzheimer's. Genova's book informs her readers, evoking compassion and understanding of what it means to be afflicted with the disease, as well as how it affects family and loved ones. Hoen's novel, while dealing with the loss of a high school sweetheart, and a twenty-something-year-old floundering to find herself, is a lighter take on the family demands of Alzheimer's. Arthur's disease provides a backdrop to Cricket's return to the family home in the Adirondacks, which gives her a sense of purpose. 

Hoen's characterization and setting save the book from feeling trite and overtly simplistic. I had no trouble envisioning the cabin set nestled in the trees, overlooking the lake, the loons calling to one another at dusk. However, not one to believe in divination, I felt the subplot of Arthur's new found ability to predict the future, casting him in the role of a local oracle, more than ridiculous.

When I began reading this novel, I was hoping for a more meaningful, literary work, but despite its flaws, I was entertained enough to finish the book.

Morningside Heights

 

Morningside Heights by Joshua Henkin

Fiction

2022 Vintage (first published in 2021)

Finished on December 23, 2022

Rating: 3.5/5 (Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

A New York Times Book Review Editors' Choice Book - When Ohio-born Pru Steiner arrives in New York in 1976, she follows in a long tradition of young people determined to take the city by storm. But when she falls in love with and marries Spence Robin, her hotshot young Shakespeare professor, her life takes a turn she couldn't have anticipated.

Thirty years later, something is wrong with Spence. The Great Man can't concentrate; he falls asleep reading The New York Review of Books. With their daughter, Sarah, away at medical school, Pru must struggle on her own to care for him. One day, feeling especially isolated, Pru meets a man, and the possibility of new romance blooms. Meanwhile, Spence's estranged son from his first marriage has come back into their lives. Arlo, a wealthy entrepreneur who invests in biotech, may be his father's last, best hope.

Morningside Heights is a sweeping and compassionate novel about a marriage surviving hardship. It's about the love between women and men, and children and parents; about the things we give up in the face of adversity; and about how to survive when life turns out differently from what we thought we signed up for.

I have read some amazing novels this year, many of which were recommended by fellow bloggers and friends. I learned about Morningside Heights from JoAnn, who said, "The novel is written with striking tenderness and compassion. It is heart-breaking, funny at times, and filled with love." I loved Lisa Genova's brilliant novel Still Alice (the main character of which suffers from early onset Alzheimer's), and when I learned that Morningside Heights deals with the disease as well, my curiosity was piqued. 

This is my first exposure to Joshua Henkin's writing and while I enjoyed this story and the characters, I never felt any connection to them, and the book didn't have the same emotional impact and resonance as Still Alice. The narrative is predictable, and obviously sad, but the characters are flat and surprisingly, there isn't much tension or action to move the plot other than just the passage of time. 

Good, but not great.

The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox

 

The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox by Maggie O'Farrell

Fiction

2008 Mariner Books (first published in 2006)

Finished on December 19, 2022

Rating: 5/5 (Outstanding)

Note: This one is best to go into blind. Avoid lengthy blurbs and reviews. My post (and the publisher's blurb) is spoiler-free.

Publisher's Blurb:

In the middle of tending to the everyday business at her vintage-clothing shop and sidestepping her married boyfriend’s attempts at commitment, Iris Lockhart receives a stunning phone call: Her great-aunt Esme, whom she never knew existed, is being released from Cauldstone Hospital—where she has been locked away for more than sixty-one years.

Iris’s grandmother Kitty always claimed to be an only child. But Esme’s papers prove she is Kitty’s sister, and Iris can see the shadow of her dead father in Esme’s face.

Esme has been labeled harmless—sane enough to coexist with the rest of the world. But she's still basically a stranger, a family member never mentioned by the family, and one who is sure to bring life-altering secrets with her when she leaves the ward. If Iris takes her in, what dangerous truths might she inherit?

A gothic, intricate tale of family secrets, lost lives, and the freedom brought by truth, The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox will haunt you long past its final page.

Wow! I was not expecting to love this book as much as I did, especially after the first half-dozen pages, which I needed to reread from the first paragraph; I was terribly confused. But I fell in love with O'Farrell's nonlinear structure, which includes multiple points of view, as well as jumps in the timeline. It was not until I was well into the narrative that it all started to fall into place, but there remained a few twists and turns, as well as some continued confusion, and an ambiguous finale. The author does an amazing job teasing out the details, allowing small glimpses into the history of the Lennox family. It's a sad tale, but a very quick read (under 250 pages) and one which I would love to read again, especially now that I understand what happened to Esme and Kitty. I couldn't put it down and think it would make a marvelous book to discuss with others. I have to say that it's even better than Hamnet, which I loved. With evocative prose and a piercingly sad storyline, O'Farrell delivers a powerful and timely message about women's rights (or lack thereof) in a patriarchal society.

Highly recommend!

And Every Morning the Way Home Gets Longer and Longer

And Every Morning the Way Home Gets Longer and Longer by Fredrik Backman
Fiction
2016 Atria Books
Finished on January 16, 2019
Rating: 3/5 (Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

Grandpa and Noah are sitting on a bench in a square that keeps getting smaller every day. The square is strange but also familiar, full of the sweet scent of the hyacinths that Grandma loved to grow in her garden.

As they wait together, they tell jokes and discuss their shared love of mathematics. Grandpa recalls what it was like to fall in love with his wife--and what it was like to lose her. She's as real to him now as the first day he met her, but he dreads the day when he won't remember her.

This peculiar space that is growing dimmer and more confusing all the time is where they will learn to say good-bye, the scent of hyacinths in the air, nothing to fear.

Fredrik Backman has rendered an exquisitely moving portrait of an elderly man's struggle to hold onto his most precious memories and his family's efforts to care for him even as they must find a way to let go.

This little book with a big message is sure to be treasured for generations to come.

It's been over four years since I first read A Man Called Ove. I loved that novel, but haven't gotten around to reading anything else by Backman's until this week when I spotted this slim book on the shelf at the library. Unlike many of my friends who have read the novella, I didn't fall in love with the story, nor did I shed any tears when I was finished. It's a tender tale about an older man dealing with Alzheimer's and I was just as confused as he, spending too much time trying to sort out whose point of view was being shared. At times it was obviously Grandpa's, but there were other moments when I wasn't sure if I was reading about Noah (the grandson) or Noah's father Ted (as a young boy). I may have to read it again.

The Long Hello

The Long Hello: Memory, My Mother, and Me by Cathie Borrie
Memoir
2016 Arcade Publishing (First published 2015 Simon & Schuster Canada)
Finished on February 25, 2017
Rating: 3/5 (Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

A stirring memoir of a daughter caring for a mother with dementia that is sure to become a touchstone for many others.

The Long Hello explores the emotional rewards and challenges that Cathie Borrie experienced in caring for her mother, who was living with Alzheimer’s disease, for seven years. Between the two, a wondrously poetic dialogue develops, which Ms. Borrie further illuminates with childhood memories of her family, and her struggle to maintain a life outside her caregiving responsibilities. The Long Hello demonstrates how caregiving creates an opportunity to experience the change in a relationship that illness necessitates, one in which joy, innocence, and profound intimacy can flourish.

Written in spare, beautiful prose, largely in the form of a dialogue, The Long Hello exquisitely captures the intricacies and nuances of a daughter’s relationship with her mother.

I almost quit when I reached the halfway point, but since it's a very short memoir, I decided to continue. In spite of the terribly sad subject matter, the author does a nice job conveying her frustration and love as her mother's caretaker. Dementia or Alzheimer's is never definitively named, but the illness is there and as an only child, the author is the sole caregiver. She handles her mother's confusion and questions with grace and patience. I liked the book, but didn't love it.

The Things We Keep

The Things We Keep by Sally Hepworth
Fiction
2016 St. Martin's Press
Finished on August 10, 2016
Rating: 3.5/5 (Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

Anna Forster, in the early stages of Alzheimer's disease at only thirty-eight years old, knows that her family is doing what they believe to be best when they take her to Rosalind House, an assisted living facility. She also knows there's just one other resident her age, Luke. What she does not expect is the love that blossoms between her and Luke even as she resists her new life at Rosalind House. As her disease steals more and more of her memory, Anna fights to hold on to what she knows, including her relationship with Luke.

When Eve Bennett is suddenly thrust into the role of single mother she finds herself putting her culinary training to use at Rosalind house. When she meets Anna and Luke she is moved by the bond the pair has forged. But when a tragic incident leads Anna's and Luke's families to separate them, Eve finds herself questioning what she is willing to risk to help them. 

Well, that's what I get for not reviewing a book as soon as I finish reading it! Until I read the publisher's blurb, I had zero recollection of either the plot or the characters. The Things We Keep was certainly not as good (or as memorable) as Still Alice, which is also about a character with early onset Alzheimer's. The Things We Keep is told from three points of view, one of which felt contrived and predictable. I feel that Hepworth only scratched the surface of what could have been a very good examination of dementia/Alzheimer's. Ultimately, The Things We Keep left me wanting more substance and less fluff.

Slow Dancing with a Stranger

Slow Dancing with a Stranger by Meryl Comer
Nonfiction – Memoir
2014 HarperOne
Finished on February 13, 2015
Rating: 3/5 (Good)




The man I live with is not the man I fell in love with and married.

He has slowly been robbed of something we all take for granted: the ability to navigate the mundane activities of living—bathing, shaving, dressing, feeding, and using the bathroom. His inner clock is confused and can’t be reset. His eyes are vacant and unaware—as if an internal window shade veils our access.

Before I grasped what was happening, I was hurt and annoyed by my husband’s behavior. Those feelings dissolved into unconditional empathy once I understood the cruelty of his diagnosis: early-onset Alzheimer’s disease. He was fifty-eight.

Publisher’s Blurb:

From Emmy award-winning broadcast journalist and leading Alzheimer’s advocate Meryl Comer comes a profoundly intimate and unflinching account of her husband’s battle with Alzheimer’s disease, one of today’s most pressing—and least-understood—health epidemics.

When Meryl Comer’s husband, Dr. Harvey Gralnick, chief of hematology and oncology at the National Institutes of Health, began forgetting routine things and demonstrating abrupt changes in behavior, doctors were confounded as to what was wrong. Diagnoses ranged from stress and depression to Lyme disease, from pernicious anemia to mad cow’s disease supposedly acquired from a trip to London. Finally, after years of inconclusive tests, he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, a seemingly impossible disease for a man in his prime.

Comer gave up her television career and for the next two decades cared for Harvey in their home, tending to his every need while watching him regress into an emotionally distant and sometimes violent stranger. “The man I live with is not the man I fell in love with and married,” she writes. “He has slowly been robbed of what we all take for granted—the ability to navigate the mundane activities of daily living: bathing, shaving, dressing, feeding, and using the bathroom. His inner clock is confused and can’t be reset. His eyes are vacant and unaware.”

In Slow Dancing with a Stranger, Comer brings readers face-to-face with Alzheimer’s, detailing the realities, its stressful emotional and financial hardships for families, as well as the limitations of doctors and assisted living and long term care facilities to manage difficult patient behaviors. With candor and grace, Comer chronicles her personal experiences—her mistakes, her heartbreaks, her minor victories—to paint an intimate and moving portrait of Alzheimer’s and, in the process, she reveals the truth about the disease and everyone it affects.

Six years ago I read Lisa Genova’s amazing debut novel, Still Alice. I couldn’t put the book down, reading it in less than two days, and I gave it a perfect 5/5 rating. Genova's story put a face on Alzheimer’s, reading more like a memoir than a novel. When I came across Meryl Comer’s memoir, Slow Dancing with a Stranger, I was immediately intrigued, eager to read another account of one couple’s experience with this awful disease. I was also curious to see how a real account compares to Genova’s work of fiction.

Slow Dancing with a Stranger is sad, sad, sad. Some reviews say that the book provides inspiration and hope, but I found it bleak and depressing. Told from Comer’s point of view (as opposed to that of the afflicted, as in Still Alice), we see what an exhausting and depressing role the caretaker is thrown into. I don’t remember a lot of violence on the part of Alice in Genova’s book, but Comer’s husband becomes very angry and, quite often, extremely violent. I can understand the incredible financial burden for the care of someone suffering from Alzheimer’s, especially for two decades, but I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like to take on the physical and emotional burden to care for that person in one’s own home with the assistance of just a couple of nurses and aides.

On the unfairness of the disease:

Neither a scientist nor a neurologist, I have spent close to two decades trying to decipher what’s going on in my husband’s head. How hard and unfair it is for such a smart man to lose pieces of his intellect and independence as the circuitry of his brain misfires and corrodes. No new short-term memories stick: his internal navigational compass has shut down. His disease is my crossword puzzle.

On the loss of friendships:

It was too disconcerting to walk through our door and see someone who was once just like them being destroyed in slow motion by an insidious disease for which there is no cure. I understand how they feel, even though I was left behind too and I’m not sick. How do I write about a twenty-year gaping hole in our lives—an intimate part of our history—when it’s still not over?

On the violence:

The nurses and I worked together, always aware that Harvey could strike out without any warning. I brought in an instructor for a session in self-defense and to demonstrate how to unlock Harvey’s vice-like grip. My personal survival regimen—a weekly weight-training session with a former pro athlete nicknamed Huggy, who pushed me to my physical max and pumped up my courage.

On the emptiness and loneliness:

Winter approached, and soon the holidays were upon us…. As his brain shut down, so did his vision. He lost much of his ability to speak. One of the only words he could still say was his name. Our twenty-third wedding anniversary and my birthday went by as forgotten, irrelevant dates.

There was a deep emptiness in my life; sometimes I felt as if I didn’t exist.

Final Thoughts:

Good, but not great. Like Genova’s novel Still Alice, Slow Dancing with a Stranger is a very readable (yet brutally honest) account of a couple dealing with a spouse’s decline from Alzheimer’s. However, I never felt an emotional pull while reading Comer’s memoir, in spite of all the passages I marked with Post-It notes. Perhaps that’s the difference, at least in this case, between fact and fiction. Both books are medically and practically informative (I really need to look into long-term health care insurance!), and yet Lisa’s book tugged at my heartstrings, while Comer’s held me at an arm’s length. If you haven’t read either of these two books, I strongly recommend Still Alice. And yes, the book is better than the movie, in spite of Julianne Moore’s amazing performance as Alice.

Click here to read my review (and lovely comment from the author) of Still Alice.

Click here to listen to Meryl Comer's interview with Diane Rehm on NPR.

Turn of Mind

Turn of Mind by Alice LaPlante
Fiction
2011 Atlantic Monthly Press
Finished 7/11/11
Rating: 4.75/5 (Terrific!)





"A uniquely entertaining murder mystery. LaPlante's portrayal of the prime suspect's escalating dementia is gripping, unnerving, and utterly brilliant."—Lisa Genova

Publisher’s Blurb:

A large sign is taped to the kitchen wall.

My name is Dr. Jennifer White
I am 64 years old. I have dementia.
My son, Mark, is 29. My daughter, Fiona, 24.
A caregiver, Magdalena, lives with me.

Already sold in eleven countries, Turn of Mind is a stunning first novel, both literary and thriller about a retired orthopedic surgeon with dementia. As the book opens, Dr. Jennifer White’s best friend, Amanda, who lived down the block, has been killed, and four fingers have been surgically removed. Dr. White is the prime suspect. And she herself doesn’t know whether she did it.

Told in her own voice, fractured and eloquent, a picture emerges of a complex family and the surprisingly intimate alliance between life-long friends—two proud, forceful women who were at times each other’s most formidable adversaries.

I loved this book! Almost as much as I loved Still Alice (Lisa Genova). I started reading it a few days before we flew out to Oregon for our family reunion, but set it aside because I was devouring it too quickly. I wanted to have something compelling to read on our long flights! And, oh, it turned out to be the perfect in-flight read. The short, succinct paragraphs (fragmented, really, to reflect the main character's state of mind) allowed for interruptions without losing the tempo of this fast-paced page-turner. I love a good mystery and enjoyed the suspense of this particular story, but as with Still Alice, it was the enlightening and thought-provoking glimpses into the life of a woman suffering from dementia that spoke to me.

I can still read, I’m not that far gone, not yet. No books anymore, but newspaper articles. Magazine pieces, if they’re short enough. I have a system. I take a sheet of lined paper. I write down notes, just like in medical school.

When I get confused, I read my notes. I refer back to them. I can take two hours getting through a single Tribune article, half a day to get through The New York Times. Now, as I sit at the table, I pick up a paper someone discarded, a pencil. I write in the margins as I read. These are Band-Aid solutions. The violent flare-ups continue. They have reaped what they sowed and should repent.

Afterward, I look at these notes but am left with nothing but a sense of unease, of uncontrol.

and

From my notebook:

A good day. Excellent day, my brain mostly clear. I performed a Mini-Cog test on myself. Uncertain of the year, month, and day, but confident of the season. Not sure of my age, but I recognized the woman I saw in the mirror. Still a touch of auburn in the hair, deep brown eyes unfaded, the lines around the eyes and forehead, if not exactly laugh lines, at least indicating a sense of humor.

I know my name: Jennifer White. I know my address: 2153 Sheffield. And spring has arrived.

Why am I so drawn to these stories? Am I preparing for the possibility of losing my memory? Am I simply being practical or is this more voyeuristic -- and perhaps more ominous -- in nature?

Just how would it feel to not know your own children? For you or for them?

We have a visitor, Jen. Aren’t you glad we had a bath? Look how nice your hair looks!

It is a face I have seen before. That’s what I am reduced to now. No more names. Just characteristics, if they are idiosyncratic enough, and knowing whether a face is familiar or unfamiliar.

And those are not absolute categories. I can be looking at a face that I have decided is unfamiliar only to have its features shift and reveal a visage that is not only known but beloved.

I didn’t recognize my own mother this morning, disguised as she was. But then she revealed herself. She cried as she held my hand. I comforted her as best I could. I explained that, yes, it had been a difficult birth, but I would be home soon, the baby was doing well. But where is James? [Jennifer’s deceased husband] I asked. Mom, Dad can’t be here right now. Why are you calling me Mom and him Dad? More tears.

And then my mother was gone.

Now this one. A different sort altogether.

And for the spouses and partners:

My life partner had Alzheimer’s. Early onset. She was a lot younger than you—only forty-five…

People think it’s just forgetting your keys, she says. Or the words for things. But there are the personality changes. The mood swings. The hostility and even violence. Even from the gentlest person in the world. You lose the person you love. And you are left with the shell…

And you are expected to go on loving them even when they are no longer there. You are supposed to be loyal. It’s not that other people expect it. It’s that you expect it of yourself. And you long for it to be over soon.

It broke my heart…

Turn of Mind is an exceptionally poignant and complex debut novel, and it still haunts me, as does Still Alice.

My friend and fellow blogger, Joy, had this to say:

Hooray! Another book gets added onto my Best Reads of 2011 list! Having a murder mystery intertwined with a dementia patient made for a very intriguing read. The progression of Jennifer's illness was depicted very well, and I could sympathize with her struggles. It was incredibly interesting to hear her thoughts as she went in and out of the here and now. I didn't become as attached to Jennifer, like I did with Alice in Still Alice (Genova), but I was certainly turning the pages just as fast. (Thoughts of Joy)

Go here to read her full review.

Go here to listen to an interview with Alice LaPlante on the Diane Rehm Show on NPR.



This is the New Zealand cover art. I think I prefer it over the U.S. version, don't you?

Still Alice

Still Alice by Lisa Genova
Fiction
2009 Pocket Books
Finished on 3/16/09
Rating: 5/5 (Outstanding!)





Product Description:

An extraordinary debut novel about an accomplished woman who slowly loses her thoughts and memories to a harrowing disease—only to discover that each day brings a new way of living and loving.

Alice Howland is proud of the life she worked so hard to build. At fifty years old, she's a cognitive psychology professor at Harvard and a world-renowned expert in linguistics with a successful husband and three grown children. When she becomes increasingly disoriented and forgetful, a tragic diagnosis changes her life—and her relationship with her family and the world—forever.

At once beautiful and terrifying, Still Alice is a moving and vivid depiction of life with early-onset Alzheimer's disease that is as compelling as A Beautiful Mind and as unforgettable as Ordinary People.

I come from a long line of incredibly good genes. My maternal grandmother was 88 years old when she died, and up until her last few months, she was one of the most active and vivacious people I've ever known. She walked every day, entertained friends and family, was an avid gardener, a voracious reader, and even went white-water rafting with my godmother (they were both in their eighties!). Her mother was just as spry, living a long and healthy life of 96 years. My mother (who turns 76 in May) is following in their footsteps. She has inherited their joie de vivre, cooking and entertaining visitors and neighbors, volunteering at her local library (she's also a voracious reader), and traveling hither and yon with my stepfather. I hope to be at least half as active when I'm in my 70's!

The paternal side of my family could have been cut from the same cloth. My grandfather led a busy and active life (also one to walk every day) until succumbing to prostate cancer at the age of 92. My father turned 76 in January, and up until a year ago February, he and my stepmother had lived aboard their 1957 Richardson motor yacht for 15 years! As some of you may know, living aboard a boat is both physically and mentally demanding, but my father is more than up to the task.

My husband likes to joke about marrying a woman of "good stock." And yet, he's right. Lucky or blessed, I'm very fortunate to have been born into a family of such good genes and longevity. None of my grandparents or parents have any history of Alzheimer's. So I shouldn't worry, right? After reading Lisa Genova's incredibly powerful novel, I can't help it. I'm terrified! Still Alice puts a frightening face on this fatal disease. As Alice claims:

She wished she had cancer instead. She'd trade Alzheimer's for cancer in a heartbeat. She felt ashamed for wishing this and it was certainly a pointless bargaining, but she permitted the fantasy anyway. With cancer, she'd have something that she could fight. There was surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy. There was the chance that she could win. Her family and the community at Harvard would rally behind her battle and consider it noble. And even if defeated in the end, she'd be able to look them knowingly in the eye and say good-bye before she left.

Alzheimer's disease was an entirely different kind of beast. There were no weapons that could slay it. Taking Aricept and Namenda felt like aiming a couple of leaky squirt guns in to the face of a blazing fire. John continued to probe into the drugs in clinical development, but she doubted that any of them were ready and capable of making a significant difference for her, else he would already have been on the phone with Dr. Davis, insisting on a way to get her on them. Right now, everyone with Alzheimer's faced the same outcome, whether they were eighty-two or fifty, resident of the Mount Auburn Manor or a full professor of psychology at Harvard University. The blazing fire consumed all. No one got out alive.

And while a bald head and a looped ribbon were seen as badges of courage and hope, her reluctant vocabulary and vanishing memories advertised mental instability and impending insanity. Those with cancer could expect to be supported by their community. Alice expected to be outcast. Even the well-intentioned and educated tended to keep a fearful distance from the mentally ill. She didn't want to become someone people avoided and feared.

Alice is a professor of psychology at Harvard University. Her expertise lies in psycholinguistics. She is one of the ten percent of those afflicted with Alzheimer's who are under the age of sixty-five. Alice is fifty years old and she has early-onset Alzheimer's.

On the annoying frustration of early symptoms:

"Come on," she urged, wishing she could attach a couple of jumper cables to her head and give herself a good, strong zap.

She didn't have time for Alzheimer's today. She had emails to return, a grant proposal to write, a class to teach, and a seminar to attend. And at the end of the day, a run. Maybe a run would give her some clarity.

and

Cued by the hanging rise in her inflection and the silence that followed, Alice knew it was her turn to speak but was still catching up to all that Lydia had just said. Without the aid of the visual cues of the person she talked to, conversations on the phone often baffled her. Words sometimes ran together, abrupt changes in topic were difficult for her to anticipate and follow, and her comprehension suffered. Although writing presented its own set of problems, she could keep them hidden from discovery because she wasn't restricted to real-time responding.

On the future:

Although Alzheimer's tended to progress more quickly in the early-onset versus late-onset form, people with early-onset usually lived with the disease for many years longer, this disease of the mind residing in relatively young and healthy bodies. She could stick around all the way to the brutal end. She'd be unable to feed herself, unable to talk, unable to recognize John and her children. She'd be curled up in the fetal position, and because she'd forget how to swallow, she'd develop pneumonia. And John, Anna, Tom, and Lydia would agree not to treat it with a simple course of antibiotics, riddled with guilt over feeling grateful that something had finally come along that would kill her body.

We all forget names. We find ourselves at a loss for a particular word. We recognize an acquaintance and yet can't for the life of us remember his name (or, for that matter, how we know him). And yet, we don't get lost in our own neighborhood. Or walk into a neighbor's kitchen, mistaking it for our own as we search the cupboards for coffee filters. Or forgot how to put on our underwear. Lisa Genova has written an incredible book that paints a vivid portrait of this progressively fatal disease. Still Alice is not an easy read, and yet I couldn't put it down. I read it in less than two days and I can't stop thinking about it. I've gone on to peruse the Alzheimer's Association's website and discovered the following information:

Today we know that Alzheimer’s:

Is a progressive and fatal brain disease. As many as 5 million Americans are living with Alzheimer’s disease. Alzheimer's destroys brain cells, causing problems with memory, thinking and behavior severe enough to affect work, lifelong hobbies or social life. Alzheimer’s gets worse over time, and it is fatal. Today it is the sixth-leading cause of death in the United States.Is the most common form of dementia, a general term for the loss of memory and other intellectual abilities serious enough to interfere with daily life. Vascular dementia, another common type of dementia, is caused by reduced blood flow to parts of the brain. In mixed dementia, Alzheimer’s and vascular dementia occur together.Has no current cure. But treatments for symptoms, combined with the right services and support, can make life better for the millions of Americans living with Alzheimer’s. We’ve learned most of what we know about Alzheimer’s in the last 15 years. There is an accelerating worldwide effort under way to find better ways to treat the disease, delay its onset, or prevent it from developing.Early-stage is the early part of Alzheimer’s disease when problems with memory, thinking and concentration may begin to appear in a doctor’s interview or medical tests. Individuals in the early-stage typically need minimal assistance with simple daily routines. At the time of a diagnosis, an individual is not necessarily in the early stage of the disease; he or she may have progressed beyond the early stage.

The term younger-onset refers to Alzheimer's that occurs in a person under age 65. Younger-onset individuals may be employed or have children still living at home. Issues facing families include ensuring financial security, obtaining benefits and helping children cope with the disease. People who have younger-onset dementia may be in any stage of dementia – early, middle or late. Experts estimate that some 500,000 people in their 30s, 40s and 50s have Alzheimer's disease or a related dementia. • 10 million baby boomers will develop Alzheimer's in their lifetime.

• Every 71 seconds, someone develops Alzheimer’s.

At this time, there is no treatment to cure, delay or stop the progression of Alzheimer's disease. FDA-approved drugs temporarily slow worsening of symptoms for about 6 to 12 months, on average, for about half of the individuals who take them.

I can do everything right: eat nutritionally healthy meals, drink in moderation, exercise on a regular basis, stimulate my brain by reading and writing, stay socially active, and abstain from smoking -- and yet, I may still wake up one morning and brush my teeth with shaving cream. Or fill Annie's water bowl with orange juice. All in spite of those good genes I inherited.

I'm sure there are some who can't bring themselves to read this poignant story. It's heartbreakingly sad; oh, so real. And yet, I think it helps to serve those of us who may someday have to face the reality of a loved-one looking at us and asking our name. Or asking if we're married or have any children. And to smile back at that curious face and reply, "Yes, sweetie. I'm Lesley. I'm your wife and we have two daughters." I would want to understand the reason for that absent look in his eyes or why he doesn't know who I am or why he can no longer read his books. I don't want to get angry and frustrated. I would hope to be patient and loving. As I would hope he would be with me, if it were me not recognizing him.

Still Alice is more than just a story about a wife and mother. It's an important lesson in compassion and in understanding a fatally progressive disease. I can't recommend it highly enough. This is for anyone who has a grandparent, parent, sibling, spouse or child.

Thank you, Lisa, for your amazing debut novel. You have given the Alzheimer's community a gift of love and awareness.

Go here and here to listen to Lisa speak about her book.

Tune in to HBO's Alzheimer's Project, beginning on May 10th. This four-part documentary is helping to change the way America views Alzheimer's.

Click here for Lisa's website.