Left on Tenth: A Second Chance at Life

 

Left on Tenth: A Second Chance at Life by Delia Ephron

Nonfiction - Memoir

2022

Read by Delia Ephron

Finished on November 25, 2024

Rating: 5/5 (Excellent)

Publisher's Blurb:

The bestselling, beloved writer of romantic comedies like You've Got Mail tells her own late-in-life love story, complete with a tragic second act and joyous resolution.

Delia Ephron had struggled through several years of heartbreak. She’d lost her sister, Nora, and then her husband, Jerry, both to cancer. Several months after Jerry’s death, she decided to make one small change in her life—she shut down his landline, which crashed her internet. She ended up in Verizon hell.

She channeled her grief the best way she knew: by writing a New York Times op-ed. The piece caught the attention of Peter, a Bay Area psychiatrist, who emailed her to commiserate. Recently widowed himself, he reminded her that they had shared a few dates fifty-four years before, set up by Nora. Delia did not remember him, but after several weeks of exchanging emails and sixties folk songs, he flew east to see her. They were crazy, utterly, in love.

But this was not a rom-com: four months later she was diagnosed with AML, a fierce leukemia.

In Left on Tenth, Delia Ephron enchants as she seesaws us between tears and laughter, navigating the suicidal lows of enduring cutting-edge treatment and the giddy highs of a second chance at love. With Peter and her close girlfriends by her side, with startling clarity, warmth, and honesty about facing death, Ephron invites us to join her team of warriors and become believers ourselves.

Bravo! I have not read any of Delia Ephron's books, but I loved her films, You've Got Mail and Michael. I received an advance audio copy of Left on Tenth a couple of years ago and have finally made the time to give it a listen. Usually, I don't care for an author reading their own books, but Ephron's narration is outstanding. She drew me in to her life, and inner circle of friends and family, making me feel welcome, which in turn made me care about her struggle and recovery from leukemia. Delia's sister, Nora, died from complications of acute myeloid leukemia, the same type of cancer that Delia was fighting. Delia goes into great detail of her grueling treatment, but not once is it repetitive or boring. She shares sweet stories about her lovely new husband, Peter, and sprinkles humor throughout her memoir. I never felt that she was keeping her readers at arm's length, but rather created an intimate room for us to visit. I loved her conversational delivery, her authenticity, and her complete lack of pretension; if there was any name-dropping, it was never a distraction. 

On Friendship:

All these different friendships. Mine with Eugene is both business and personal. These bonds matter. They are little homes. Places of safety. I am taking stock now. Friendship. God, I love my friends.

On Grief:

 The silence in the apartment is loud.

On Love:

And one single thing about all this: We were both seventy-two and age meant nothing. We were getting as loopy, as obsessed with each other as anyone falling under the spell of romance.

On Dogs:

Dogs dig deep into your heart. They’re in the room, on the floor, in your lap, on the bed, pestering you for treats, chewing your sock, burrowing under sheets, making you laugh, following you about, eating the cheese you left on the table, tearing in wild happy circles after baths. They trust. They are innocence. They are unjudgmental observers of your every unguarded moment.

As much as I loved this audiobook, I would like to own a print edition for a second reading. Highly recommend!

I received a complimentary copy from Libro.fm. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

The Brave In-Between

 

Update: Amy Low passed away peacefully, surrounded by family, on Wednesday, November 27, 2024.

The Brave In-Between: Notes from the Last Room by Amy Low

Nonfiction - Memoir

2024

Finished on November 13, 2024

Rating: 4/5 (Very Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

Lessons and advice on navigating uncertainty while battling stage four cancer after divorce in midlife.

Amy Low resides in a room that is her last. Her medical team is clear-eyed with her: there is no cure for Stage IV metastatic colon cancer, and the odds of long-term survival are scant. Miraculously, she’s lived four years with her diagnosis, and that life between life has changed her.

Through the swirl of prolonged trauma and unbearable grief, a vantage point emerged—a window that showed her the way to relish life and be kinder to herself and others while living through the inevitable loss and heartbreak that crosses everyone’s paths. Instead of viewing joy and sorrow as opposites, she saw how both exist in harmony, full of mystery and surprise. Instead of seeing days as succeeding or failing, and physical selves as healthy or unwell, she’s learned to carry both achievements and afflictions in stride. And instead of bitterness and betrayal, forgiveness—toward her body, toward others, toward herself—became her wisest light.

Mapping her experiences to the words that St. Paul wrote in his own last room, The Brave In-Between is a sacred invitation to explore that space between triumph and tragedy. We all have a heart to marvel at miracles, a lightness to spot the absurdity, and an imagination to pause and extend empathy for others—even when tragedy strikes. Sometimes we just need a guide.

"Lessons and advice on navigating uncertainty while battling stage four cancer after divorce in midlife." Gee. Sounds like an entertaining book, doesn't it? I'm not sure why I'm drawn to stories about people battling diseases, but as I glance at my "memoir" shelf on Goodreads, there are a few. (Coincidentally, I was listening to another book, while reading this one, in which the author is dealing with the loss of her husband and leukemia.)

As with my previous read, You Could Make This a Beautiful Place, Amy Low's memoir resonates on many levels: divorce and co-parenting with an ex-spouse, Covid lockdown and Zoom, the upsetting election of 2016, etc. It's not simply a cancer story.

On hope:

Growing up in San Diego and rooting for the Padres, my brother and sister and I knew a little something about hope. We'd earned PhDs in hope. Most years, the Padres were out of contention by Mother's Day, but still we scrambled to get to games, pinning all of our dreams on Tony Gwynn* and remembering that miracles had a way of showing up despite it all. With a stirring in our hearts, we'd sit in the cheap seats, so high I thought we were closer to touching the moon than the field. What might happen?

Cancer is everywhere. I have friends and relatives currently battling this awful disease. I also know survivors. My younger brother was diagnosed with colon cancer at the age of 40. He is now 60 and cancer-free. So, to jump on my soap box--get your screenings, especially colonoscopies and mammograms. Cancer treatments have advanced, along with new technologies such as immunotherapy and target drugs. Early detection is critical!

Part medical narrative, part spirituality and philosophy, The Brave In-Between is both heartbreaking and uplifting. Recommend.

You can follow Amy Low on Instagram and Substack (Postcards from the Mountain).

*Sadly, Tony Gwynn died from complications of cancer of the salivary gland at the age of 54. 

Looking Back - Dear Stranger, Dearest Friend

Looking Back... In an effort to transfer my book journal entries over to this blog, I'm going to attempt to post (in chronological order) an entry every Friday. I may or may not add extra commentary to what I jotted down in these journals.

Dear Stranger, Dearest Friend by Laney Katz Becker

Fiction

2000 William Morrow

Read in October 2000

Rating: 5/5 (Excellent)

Publisher's Blurb:

In the bestselling tradition of Beaches comes a poignant and unforgettable novel of two very different women separated by miles and experience and the extraordinary long-distance friendship that changes and illuminates their lives.

Lara is a smart, sophisticated New Yorker who is frightened about her future. In search of answers, comfort, and advice, she goes on-line. And that's where she, "meets" Susan, a strong and steady, no-frills Midwesterner. No two women could be less alike. Yet from the moment they connect, it is clear that they share something deep and important, something that's nestled in the warmest corner of the heart.

What begins as a chance encounter on the Internet quickly blossoms into a very special relationship. As their e-mail messages fly back and forth, Susan and Lara forge a powerful bond of trust, honesty, and understanding. And soon they are sharing their lives in full -- talking of husbands and children, dreams and desires, the daily cycle of success and setback -- and together learning to laugh uproariously over the small and large absurdities of the world. When a devastating crisis arises, they are there for each other, providing the life-affirming strength and the lightness that is needed to cope with tragedy... and to triumph.

Lara and Susan originally go on-line looking for kind words and good advice. But they find in each other the greatest gift of all: a true and forever friend.

Vivid, funny, original, and profoundly moving, Laney Katz Becker's magnificent debut novel is sure to be a classic, read and reread by women everywhere, an intimate portrait of two complete strangers who become soul mates across hundreds of miles, and who discover the strength and the will to reach out and take hold of the wondrous stuff of life.

My Original Thoughts (2000):

I read this in two days! Love it, although it almost made me cry on several occasions. Wonderful format (epistolary emails). Not only is it a great story of friendship, but a wonderful source of information about breast cancer and its treatments.

Two women "meet" on the Internet. One has just found a lump on her breast and the other is a breast cancer survivor.

My Current Thoughts:

I was surprised to see that I gave this book a 5-star rating since I usually reserve those high marks for more literary works. However, I still have this book on my shelf, and although the medical information is most likely outdated, it's one that I have intended to read a second time. I love epistolary works and when I read this my online friendships were really taking hold. Remember the days when you mentioned an online friend to someone and they couldn't believe you were so close to someone you'd never met in person? Not so unusual these days, is it?

Mister Owita's Guide to Gardening

Mister Owita's Guide to Gardening by Carol Wall
Nonfiction - Memoir
2014 Amy Einhorn Books
Finished on November 20, 2019
Rating: 2/5 (Fair)

Publisher's Blurb:

A true story of a unique friendship between two people who had nothing - and ultimately everything - in common.

Carol Wall, a middle-aged woman living in a small Virginia town, was at a crossroads in her life. Her children were grown and had left her nest empty; she had successfully overcome the illness that had upended her idyllic existence and forced her to question her own assumptions about what truly gives life  meaning; her beloved parents were getting older, and their care was her burden to carry, alone. Her yard was showing obvious signs of neglect, yet the last thing in the world she thought she would start doing is take up something as frivolous as gardening. Carol and flowers had a history--and it wasn't a happy one.

One day, while she was driving by her neighbor's house, Carol couldn't help noticing the neighbor's yard. Flowers were blooming everywhere. The lawn was a luscious dark green. The trees were glorious, and their shade inviting. In comparison, Carol's yard was... well, just a yard, perhaps the ugliest one on the block.

Yet even more compelling than the beautiful plants was the magnetic man orchestrating this magic. As if drawn by an inexplicable force, Carol found herself calling to gather more information about the stranger. She learned that his name was Giles Owita. He was from Kenya. He bagged groceries at the supermarket in town. He was very good at gardening.

Soon Giles was showing up at Carol's doorstep and transforming now only her yard, but her life. Though they seemed as different as could be, a caring bond began to grown between them. And as it turned out, they both had closely held secrets that, when revealed, would cement their connection forever. 

Mister Owita's Guide to Gardening is an account of an unexpected friendship that sustained Carol through crises and milestones. It is the memoir of a woman who at midlife found there was so much more to learn about herself and others. And perhaps more important, it is also an ode to Giles Owita himself, an intelligent and complex man whose wisdom and grace were truly remarkable. 

As I began reading Carol Wall's memoir, I had that heady feeling of joy, knowing from the opening pages that this was going to be a wonderful book. I felt an immediate connection to the author and looked forward to learning more about her life, as well as that of Giles Owita and his ability to transform a sad garden into a place of beauty and joy. However, somewhere around the third chapter I grew more than weary of Carol's insecurities and whining. While not exactly a drama queen, her reaction to the declining health of her parents, and that of her own cancer battles, seemed over the top and irrationally hysterical. I was tempted to abandon the book, but stuck with it since a few of my friends gave it a high rating and it was a quick read. Overall, it was a disappointing read.

Birdbaths and Paper Cranes

Birdbaths and Paper Cranes: A Family Tale by Sharon Randall
Nonfiction - Essays
2001 Plume Books (Penguin Group)
Finished on November 8, 2018
Rating: 4/5 (Very Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

From the nationally syndicated columnist Sharon Randall, Birdbaths and Paper Cranes is a new collection of heartfelt essays on life and family. Among the many poignant topics she tells us about are her blind brother's first attempt at driving a car, her daughter's penchant for tea parties, and her husband's courageous battle with a deadly disease. In Randall's hands, even a simple story about a birdbath has meaning. Through laughter and tears, all those who read Birdbaths and Paper Cranes will look at life in a different way.

This is my second reading of Birdbaths and Paper Cranes. I don't remember when I first discovered this collection of columns by Sharon Randall, but it's been on my "keeper" shelf for many years and it's one that I remember loving the first time I read it. Many of the stories made me laugh out loud and others tugged at my heartstrings, bringing a lump to my throat. I enjoy reading nonfiction when life is hectic or stressful and Randall's stories are the perfect in length, allowing me to read a half-dozen or so each evening before bedtime. I enjoy stories about family, motherhood, love and grief and this collection didn't disappoint and will appeal to readers who enjoy similar essays by Joyce Maynard, Anna Quindlen and Kelly Corrigan.

17 years have passed since Sharon's book was published and I was curious to see if she had anything else I could read. I didn't find anymore books, but I did come across her website and blog, which is just as entertaining (and more current) as the columns in Birdbaths and Paper Cranes.

Promise Me, Dad

Promise Me, Dad: A Year of Hope, Hardship, and Purpose by Joe Biden
Nonfiction - Memoir
2017 Audible Studios
Read by Joe Biden
Finished on February 3, 2018
Rating: 3/5 (Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

A deeply moving memoir about the year that would forever change both a family and a country.

In November 2014, thirteen members of the Biden family gathered on Nantucket for Thanksgiving, a tradition they had been celebrating for the past forty years; it was the one constant in what had become a hectic, scrutinized, and overscheduled life. The Thanksgiving holiday was a much-needed respite, a time to connect, a time to reflect on what the year had brought, and what the future might hold. But this year felt different from all those that had come before. Joe and Jill Biden's eldest son, Beau, had been diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor fifteen months earlier, and his survival was uncertain. "Promise me, Dad," Beau had told his father. "Give me your word that no matter what happens, you're going to be all right." Joe Biden gave him his word.

Promise Me, Dad chronicles the year that followed, which would be the most momentous and challenging in Joe Biden's extraordinary life and career. Vice President Biden traveled more than a hundred thousand miles that year, across the world, dealing with crises in Ukraine, Central America, and Iraq. When a call came from New York, or Capitol Hill, or Kyiv, or Baghdad -- Joe, I need your help -- he responded. For twelve months, while Beau fought for and then lost his life, the vice president balanced the twin imperatives of living up to his responsibilities to his country and his responsibilities to his family. And never far away was the insistent and urgent question of whether he should seek the presidency in 2016.

The year brought real triumph and accomplishment, and wrenching pain. But even in the worst times, Biden was able to lean on the strength of his long, deep bonds with his family, on his faith, and on his deepening friendship with the man in the Oval Office, Barack Obama.

Writing with poignancy and immediacy, Joe Biden allows readers to feel the urgency of each moment, to experience the days when he felt unable to move forward as well as the days when he felt like he could not afford to stop.

This is a book written not just by the vice president, but by a father, grandfather, friend, and husband. Promise Me, Dad is a story of how family and friendships sustain us and how hope, purpose, and action can guide us through the pain of personal loss into the light of a new future.

I enjoyed this honest story about Joe Biden's struggle with his son's illness and untimely death, but I would have had greater appreciation had it focused more on his family life and less on foreign affairs and diplomatic crises. I picked up the book, looking to read a tribute to Beau and learn how his family dealt with the loss of their son. I didn't expect to read so much about Joe's experiences in office or his dealings with unstable countries. It was just a little too self-serving for my taste. 

Note about the audio:

I listened to Promise Me, Dad on audio (which is read by Biden) and found Joe's voice evenly paced and soothing, although he frequently dropped the volume of his voice, making it very difficult to understand him as he read.

The Bright Hour

The Bright Hour by Nina Riggs
Memoir
2017 Simon and Schuster
Finished on December 11, 2017
Rating: 5/5 (Excellent!)

Publisher's Blurb:

An exquisite memoir about how to live—and love—every day with “death in the room,” from poet Nina Riggs, mother of two young sons and the direct descendant of Ralph Waldo Emerson, in the tradition of When Breath Becomes Air.

“We are breathless, but we love the days. They are promises. They are the only way to walk from one night to the other.”

Poet and essayist Nina Riggs was just thirty-seven years old when initially diagnosed with breast cancer—"one small spot." Within a year, the mother of two sons, ages seven and nine, and married sixteen years to her best friend, received the devastating news that her cancer was terminal.

How does one learn to live each day, “unattached to outcome”? How do you approach the moments, big and small, with both love and honesty? Exploring motherhood, marriage, friendship, and memory, even as she wrestles with the legacy of her great-great-great grandfather, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nina Riggs’s breathtaking memoir continues the urgent conversation that Paul Kalanithi began in his gorgeous When Breath Becomes Air. She asks, what makes a meaningful life when one has limited time?

Brilliantly written, disarmingly funny, and deeply moving, The Bright Hour is about how to love all the days, even the bad ones, and it’s about the way literature, especially Emerson, and Nina’s other muse, Montaigne, can be a balm and a form of prayer. It’s a book about looking death squarely in the face and saying “this is what will be.”

Especially poignant in these uncertain times, The Bright Hour urges us to live well and not lose sight of what makes us human: love, art, music, words. 

If I were still working in a bookstore, I would love to recommend this beautifully written memoir to customers who enjoyed Being Mortal and When Breath Becomes Air. Reminiscent of Kelly Corrigan's (The Middle Place) conversational writing style, I was hooked and couldn't put this book down. I never read in the middle of the night, but Riggs' book about cancer and family and death kept me reading late in the night. She has given her two young sons and husband a lasting legacy of her love, which I hope will bring them comfort in the coming years. 

There are some lovely passages throughout this stunning memoir and it is quite obvious that Riggs was a poet. Who knew one could write such beautiful prose about cancer and death, while fighting for her own life. She lost her mother (also to cancer) prior to the beginning of her own second round of chemo, which makes this book even more tender. And yet, there is nothing sappy about The Bright Hour.   

Some favorite passages:

I am reminded of an image...that living with a terminal disease is like walking on a tightrope over an insanely scary abyss. But that living without disease is also like walking on a tightrope over an insanely scary abyss, only with some fog or cloud cover obscuring the depths a bit more -- sometimes the wind blowing it off a little, sometimes a nice dense cover.

and

You are fully entitled to slap the next person who tells you that God only gives us what we can handle.

and

We have called in hospice for my mom.

It's strange, because hospice is one of those words that when you say it people's faces fall. It is a word that evokes last breaths and hushed voices. But the more I think about it, the more I'm struck by what a beautiful word it is -- hospice. It is hushed, especially at the end. But it's comfortable and competent sounding, too. A French word with Latin roots -- very close to hospital but with so much more serenity due to those S sounds. ...

It used to mean a rest house for travelers -- for pilgrims. And is there anything more welcome to a weary pilgrim than rest?

Nina Riggs' stark honesty (and witty sense of humor) had me wishing that her life wasn't cut so short - I'd love to read more of her writing! I borrowed the book from the library and wound up buying a copy for a second reading. As with Being Mortal, I feel that The Bright Hour should be read by everyone.

My reviews for Being Mortal, When Breath Becomes Air and The Middle Place can be found by clicking on each title.

The Fault in Our Stars

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green
Teen Fiction
2012 Dutton
Finished 7/17/13
Rating: 4.75/5 (Outstanding)





Publisher’s Blurb:

Despite the tumor-shrinking medical miracle that has bought her a few years, Hazel has never been anything but terminal, her final chapter inscribed upon diagnosis. But when a gorgeous plot twist named Augustus Waters suddenly appears at Cancer Kid Support Group, Hazel’s story is about to be completely rewritten.

Insightful, bold, irreverent, and raw, The Fault in Our Stars is award-winning-author John Green’s most ambitious and heartbreaking work yet, brilliantly exploring the funny, thrilling, and tragic business of being alive and in love.

I’m not a very eclectic reader. I tend to stick to general fiction, mysteries, and memoirs. Every once in a while, I’ll pick up a book about World War II or a highly recommended science fiction novel, and this past year I’ve joined my granddaughter in some young readers. But I don’t usually read teen fiction. Oh, I got sucked into the Twilight series, as well as The Hunger Games, but I wouldn’t consider myself an avid fan. The teenage angst annoys me and I find myself getting impatient with the drawn out tension between the characters. However, in just three months, I’ve read three teen novels. Three! Since the first two were such big winners, and after hearing so much praise for John Green’s works, I decided to give The Fault in Our Stars a try. I didn’t read the jacket blurb and I ignored all the online reviews and dove in cold. Well, I knew it was about two teens with cancer, but that was it.

In a word, this was unputdownable! After only reading 70 pages, I knew I wanted to read everything by Green.

Yes, it’s sad (ok, heartbreaking) and it made me cry, but it’s a beautifully rendered story about friendship and first loves and, yes, loss. The writing is intelligent and humorous. The dialogue is authentic and tight. The characters come to life and I came to care about Hazel Grace and Augustus as if they were people I knew.

But I can’t tell you any more. It’s a book you have to discover for yourselves. And if I can’t convince you, take a look at all the accolades this novel has received:

TIME Magazine’s #1 Fiction Book of 2012
An Entertainment Weekly Best Fiction Book of 2012
John Green is one of Entertainment Weekly’s Entertainers of the Year, 2012
#1 New York Times Bestseller
#1 Wall Street Journal Bestseller
A USA Today Bestseller
International Bestseller
#1 Children’s Indiebound Pick
New York Times Editor’s Choice
The Huffington Post Best Books of 2012
A Booklist Books for Youth Editor’s Choice
The Horn Book Fanfare List
A Publishers Weekly Best Book
A School Library Journal Best Book
Unprecedented EIGHT starred reviews

And, from the author of one of my all-time favorite books ever:

A novel of life and death and the people caught in between, The Fault in our Stars is John Green at his best. You laugh, you cry, and then you come back for more.– Markus Zusak, bestselling and Printz Honor–winning author of The Book Thief

Final Thoughts: 

When I realized I had turned to the final page, I cried out, “No!” I wanted more. I wasn’t ready to leave these people and their story. So, I will buy a copy for my keeper shelf and I will read this book again. And I will share it with my granddaughter when she’s older. And I will anxiously await the release of the movie.

Torch

Torch by Cheryl Strayed
Fiction
2005 Mariner Books
Finished 12/6/09
Rating: 3.5/5 (Good)




Product Description

"Work hard. Do good. Be incredible!” That’s the advice Teresa Rae Wood gives the listeners of her popular local radio show, Modern Pioneers, and she has taken it to heart in her own life. She fled a bad marriage, escaping to Midden, Minnesota (pop. 408), where she fell in love with a carpenter who became a loving stepfather to her children, Claire and Joshua. Now Claire is away at college, Joshua is laboring through his senior year of high school, and Teresa and Bruce are working to make ends meet. Despite their struggles, their love for each other binds them as a family. Then they receive the devastating news that Teresa has cancer and at thirty-eight may have less than one year to live. Those she will leave behind face something previously unimaginable -- a future without her.

In Torch, the award-winning writer Cheryl Strayed creates from one family's shattering experience a novel infused with tenderness, compassion, and beauty.

In her debut novel, Strayed's depiction of death and grief are brutally honest and painfully real. I was a bit surprised by some of the actions by Bruce, Claire and Joshua after Teresa's death, but I've learned over the years that there is no logical pattern to one's grief. It really is true that we all grieve in our own fashion and there is no right or wrong way to find passage through the pain and loss of a loved one.

This is not your typical mother/wife/best friend-dies-of-cancer-sob-story (a la Beaches or Terms of Endearment). Torch is a sad book, yet it's neither manipulative nor sentimental. The writing is beautiful and Strayed was able to hold my interest in spite of my irritation with several turn of events and poor choices made by all three main characters. I was satisfied with the final outcome, and while I probably won't re-read the novel, I can't say I wouldn't recommend it. I'm just not sure to whom.

While perusing the reviews on Amazon, I came upon a particularly lovely review. It was only after reading the post that I noticed the reviewer's name -- one of my favorite authors!

To be honest, I almost didn't read this novel because I thought it would be too sad to bear. As it turns out, I was half-right: it was too sad, it was breathtakingly sad, but I could not bear to stop reading it. On its face, the plot is simple: a husband, son, and a daughter stumble, brokenhearted, toward the moment of Teresa Rae Wood's death and then spin, brokenhearted, away from that moment, out into their separate lives and separate griefs. But there is nothing simple about Strayed's achievement, which is to render moot concepts like plot. The amazing truth is that, while I read this book, I never for a single second thought to myself, "This is a story. These are characters." I thought instead, from the first page, "This is a world. These are people." And they are people I needed to stick by through every brutal second of Teresa Rae Wood's dying and all the brutal, beautiful, dislocated, intensely intimate days and months that follow her dying. In their frank efforts to survive awful loss, Bruce, Claire, and Josh cling to some people, push others away, behave badly, nobly, selfishly, gorgeously, and they don't so much emerge from grief, as they manage to forge lives in which grief can coexist with hope and continuing. I'm so glad I read this book. (Marisa de los Santos)

Nice endorsement from an author who has also written about death and grief.

About the Author

CHERYL STRAYED's award-winning stories and essays have appeared in more than a dozen magazines, including the New York Times Magazine, Allure, Elle, and Nerve. Widely anthologized, her creative nonfiction has been selected twice for The Best American Essays, and Joyce Carol Oates singled her out for the opening piece in The Best New American Voices 2003. In its review of the anthology Women Who Eat: A New Generation on the Glory of Food, Publishers Weekly highlighted her tale of learning to make the perfect pudding for a tapioca-loving man. Raised in Minnesota, Strayed has worked as a political organizer for women's advocacy groups and was an outreach worker at a sexual violence center in Minneapolis. She holds an MFA from the Syracuse University Graduate Creative Writing Program.

The Middle Place

Update: Go here to watch Kelly's touching trailer for the book.

The Middle Place by Kelly Corrigan
Memoir
Finished 12/3/07
Rating: 4/5 (Very good)
ARC - Book due out on January 8, 2008

Publisher's Blurb:

In humorous, incandescent prose, Kelly Corrigan alternates tales of growing up Corrigan with the story of her life and her father's today as they each--successfully, for now--battle cancer. A book that reminds us of the good things in life, The Middle Place examines the universal themes of family, adulthood, and how we all must, inevitably, make the leap to the other side and grow up.

Book Description:

For Kelly Corrigan, family is everything. At thirty-six, she had a marriage that worked, a couple of funny, active kids, and a weekly newspaper column. But even as a thriving adult, Kelly still saw herself as George Corrigan's daughter. A garrulous Irish-American charmer from Baltimore, George was the center of the ebullient, raucous Corrigan clan. He greeted every day by opening his bedroom window and shouting, "Hello, World!" Suffice it to say, Kelly's was a colorful childhood, just the sort a girl could get attached to. Kelly lives deep within what she calls the Middle Place -- "that sliver of time when parenthood and childhood overlap" -- comfortably wedged between her adult duties and her parents' care. But she's abruptly shoved into a coming-of-age when she finds a lump in her breast -- and gets the diagnosis no one wants to hear. And so Kelly's journey to full-blown adulthood begins. When George, too, learns he has late-stage cancer, it is Kelly's turn to take care of the man who had always taken care of her -- and show us a woman as she finally takes the leap and grows up. Kelly Corrigan is a natural-born storyteller, a gift you quickly recognize as her father's legacy, and her stories are rich with everyday details. She captures the beat of an ordinary life and the tender, sometimes fractious moments that bind families together. Rueful and honest, Kelly is the prized friend who will tell you her darkest, lowest, screwiest thoughts, and then later, dance on the coffee table at your party. Funny, yet heart-wrenching, The Middle Place is about being a parent and a child at the same time. It is about the special double-vision you get when you are standing with one foot in each place. It is about the family you make and the family you came from -- and locating, navigating, and finally celebrating the place where they meet. It is about reaching for life with both hands -- and finding it.

Two years ago, at the age of 41, my younger brother was diagnosed with rectal cancer. We had just experienced the absolute worst loss of our lives, only to learn of Chris' cancer 6 weeks after Rachel's death. We were stunned beyond belief. After two rounds of chemo, radiation, and radical surgery, Chris is now, thankfully, cancer-free. Somewhere along the line, in my quest to become more knowledgeable about this particular cancer (to learn how to help my brother emotionally, as well as educate myself about my increased risk as a sibling), I stumbled upon a particularly informative website. While CircusOfCancer is a site for those seeking information about breast cancer rather than colo-rectal cancer, it provided me with an insider's view to chemo, radiation, how to talk to friends with cancer, etc. I was moved by the story behind the website and read everything posted, including the photo essays. Little did I know, two years down the road I'd pick up an Advanced Reader's Copy of Kelly Corrigan's memoir, only to discover that she was the creator of CircusOfCancer! What a small world.

Corrigan is a marvelous storyteller, drawing you into her family and home with the ease of a seasoned writer. When I finished the book, I felt as if I'd met her in person, trading stories about family and love and fear and loss. In typical fashion, I read with a packet of sticky notes in hand and wound up with a dozen or so pages marked for a second reading. This first passage is from the Prologue:

...I called my parents from the maternity ward and cried through the following: "Mom, Dad, it's a girl, and Dad, we named her after you. We named her Georgia."

Three years after that, almost to the day, I called home to tell my parents that I had cancer.And that's what this whole thing is about. Calling home. Instinctively. Even when all the paperwork--a marriage license, a notarized deed, two birth certificates, and seven years of tax returns--clearly indicates you're an adult, but all the same, there you are, clutching the phone and thanking God that you're still somebody's daughter.

I especially like this brief passage:

I get another e-mail from a particularly grown-up friend of mine, Jen Komosa. She just says, "You are stronger than you think. You are strong enough."

Such truth in these simple words. I never thought I could survive the loss of one of our children and I'm sure there were times when my brother thought he couldn't survive the rigors of cancer treatment. But it's amazing what the heart and mind and body can endure. We are all stronger than we think.

I like the cadence of these particular paragraphs:

There is fear, like the moment before a car accident or the jolt that shoots through you when you see your baby slip under water, and there is pain, like whacking your head into a cabinet door left open or the quiver in your shoulders as you carry your end of the sofa up those last few stairs, fingers slipping. And then there is pain and fear together, like delivery a baby or standing up for the first time after surgery. Until they tell you it's working, chemo is like that, pain and fear, fear and pain, alternating relentlessly.

Yesterday, I took eighteen pills in twenty-four hours for everything from the well-known side effects like nausea and fatigue to the secret ones like runaway infections and tear-jerking constipation. Each side effect can be treated with medication, which usually has its own side effect. For nausea: Zofran. For the constipation caused by Zofran: laxatives and stool softeners. To ward of infection and stabilize your white blood cell counts: Neupogen. For the deep bone pain caused by Neupogen: Vicodin, which in turn causes nausea and drowsiness. And there you are, right back where you started.

I nodded my head in agreement when I read this:

I envy my dad his faith. I envy all people who have someone to beseech, who know where they're going, who sleep under the fluffy white comforter of belief.

I remember feeling this way after Rachel died. And I remember feeling like this, too:

I feel different from everyone these days. Words are loaded now--people who were "so sick they wanted to die," who ate "so much they wanted to puke," who hope someone will "take them out back and shoot them" before they get old and infirm.

And yet, as I relate to quite a bit of Kelly's thoughts and feelings, I became annoyed when I read the following passage (her response to learning she would need to begin hormone therapy in order to temporarily eliminate estrogen from her system, thus postponing the possibility of any more children for five more years):

I shake my head. "They talked about cancer like it was something to get through, to treat, to beat." They never said it was going to change everything, all my plans, and take things away from me that I have wanted since I was a child. "They said it was gonna be a bad year. So doesn't that mean when the bad year is over, when you do everything you are told to do--and with a goddamn smile no less--you get to go back to the life you had?"

Finally, I just stare ahead. I'm so mad and so tired at the same time.

"I thought that was what I was here for--to raise a bunch of kids," I say as we get closer to home.

I wanted to reach through the pages and past and shake this young woman and tell her she should be thankful to be alive. Thankful to have two beautiful daughters, a loving husband, devoted parents and friends and relatives who love her deeply. I wanted to tell her that while my brother is also a cancer survivor, he didn't get to go back to the life he once had either, but he's deeply grateful for his life, physically altered though it may be.

I can't begin to imagine how I'd personally handle the diagnosis and treatment of cancer, but I did watch my brother ride the emotional rollercoaster for the longest year of his life. I'd like to think that Kelly's reaction to the hormone therapy was exacerbated by the stress and emotional fragility of that long year in her life and that she can now appreciate how truly blessed she is to have what she has.

And now to jump on my soap box -- Many, many cancers are treatable, if detected early. If you are 50 or older, get a colonoscopy! I had one two years ago (six years sooner than normal, but highly recommended due to the hereditary risk as a sibling), and quite honestly, it's not a big deal. I was alseep through the entire procedure and the prep the day before was certainly tolerable. I'd gladly have that test once every five years if it prevents the ill effects of chemo (nausea, chemo brain, neuropathy, mouth sores, etc.), not to mention prolonging my life.