I found this to be a judgmental and dismissive book.
At the core of my dissatisfaction lies the fact that the author is convinced of a clear hierarchyI found this to be a judgmental and dismissive book.
At the core of my dissatisfaction lies the fact that the author is convinced of a clear hierarchy, where the out-of-order-ness of the death is paramount. This is a condescending simplification she should never have made and I think her own experience with the loss of her relatively young boyfriend stand in the way of true (professional) empathy on her part. Nobody gets to validate who earns mourning rights, and she makes a big point out of this, yet this is exactly what she does. Quickly upon opening the book, she feels the need to set the record straight and sums up this book isn’t written for everyone. If the person you are mourning didn’t die unexpectedly, young or dramatically, you aren’t as deserving of grief. Page 27. It really is put this way. Contradictionary and spoken with undeserving authority. To me, the weight of the loss isn’t measured in the age of the person dying, it isn’t calculated twice as valuable as there is shock value involved. Unexpected deaths are tragic, traumatic, extremely intense and utterly scary and I would never disvalue that. I have experienced them. But I have experienced a horrible dragged out dying process too, and scraping my scull empty with a teaspoon would have been a delightful experience next to that. Death in slow motion, possibly of old people, and also if the death was expected, can showcase horrible suffering that will change the spectator forever. And even if the death was ‘beautiful’, life without the person simply may not be. I don’t think competition isn’t in place here, compassion is.
If the love for the departed person was immense, if they were a pillar in your existence— you will collapse, and I’m not to be told by this book that there is a special group of elite mourners that are ~actually~ in pain. The whole book reads as if her brand of grief is a trophy, almost to be worshipped.
If you need to hear it is ok not to be ok, you will get that. You will almost get reassured you will never be ok again. And taught not have a thankful approach towards people that do their best to assist you in your grief, since they don’t get it anyway.
If you are willing to sit with your grief but would want to come out of the darkness eventually, I don’t know if this book is that helpful. I feel like glorification of suffering gets masked as if it’s the same as acceptance. I find this to be the book of an arrogant lady that falls short in the wisdom department. I don’t question her pain is deep, but that does not make this book so.
Also, her writing style is very repetitive, and to be honest, it doesn’t go anywhere. It lacks connection to the reader. The prism of her pain isn’t made visible in the book, her tone is flat and the form of the book isn’t clear. Is it a memoir, is it a self-help book, is it actually addressed to us or does this vary?
I appreciate that we as a western society brush death under the rug too much, but naming this doesn’t make the book revolutionary. The book makes some valid points. But overall, it’s redundant and doesn’t do me much good. ...more
Tessa Milou Noorda
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