About a month ago, I received this forwarded video from a friend. In a five minute segment, author Kelly Corrigan pays tribute to women, mothers, daughters, and friends. It was beautiful - a must see! I liked this woman immediately. I liked the way she read her essay. I liked her easy sense of humor. I loved how she hit upon universal emotions and made you weep and laugh within the same breath!
So, I requested a copy of her best-selling book from my library. Somehow, with everything else going on in life, its due date came and I intended to renew the book; however, someone else had requested it, meaning I couldn't renew it. Instead of doing the sensible thing, and returning it right then, I decided I would try to read it quickly. The first night, I managed a third of the book, without any effort at all and only stopped reading because of the time. I knew I was hooked and wouldn't return it until I had read the whole thing, despite the overdue fee.
The author begins by identifying herself as her father's only daughter. The depth of love she has for her father is intense. Indeed, he sounds like an incredible individual and one the reader will come away wanting to meet.
This memoir takes us on Kelly's journey from leaving the role of daughter, becoming an adult, having two daughters of her own, receiving a diagnosis of breast cancer and returning to the arms and encouragements of her father to get her through the challenges of this illness. Her father's optimistic attitude and deeply-felt faith in God help to carry her through.
It is really an endearing story, since it brings the reader into the inner sphere of what it is like to experience and battle cancer. Plus, it is a quick and easy read - written in story form, with analysis interspersed.
Yet, I find myself unable to enthusiastically recommend this book. It is an enjoyable read. But, the analysis given by the author throughout the second half of the book left me with a bad taste in my mouth. I had hoped for more ... a deeper wisdom, a stronger take-away. I suppose I would rather like to read her father's story of the battle with cancer.
I understand that my own worldview is merely at odds with the author's worldview. While her father clings to faith, maintains an upbeat attitude and prays for a miracle, the author disdains religion (voicing the attitude that prayer has nothing to do with the physical battle against cancer or whether or not the doctor is skilled enough to select the best choice of action), compulsively bolsters herself up to send out positive e-mails, and is consumed with a passion for controlling everything about her situation (and her father's cancer situation) by securing the best doctors.
I guess I struggled to like the author as much when she honestly voiced her complaints. Yet, I feel harsh to judge her for those complaints. I mean, realistically, any cancer survivor is going to feel angry and resent the ways cancer has robbed them of certain expectations in life. But, in my mind, I keep thinking, life often robs you of your expectations of life, be it through cancer or some other trial. (And believe me, I see the three fingers pointing back at myself, while one is pointed at this author. I've had my own pity parties and voiced vociferous complaints.)
Furthermore, I felt uncomfortable with her lopsided portrayal of her parents. She focuses so intensely on her love for her father, that the reader comes away asking, "but, what about your mother?" It is clear that her mother was on her own very difficult road, dealing with her husband's multiple battles with cancer and her only daughter's battle with breast cancer. Yet, it never really feels like the author is giving any accolades to the mother in this book.
Instead, she enters her mother's home and decides to spruce things up (in what would clearly help her own level of comfort) by taking down old photos and frames and worn out things and replacing them with a whole new stash from Bed, Bath and Beyond. Oh, the horror. I winced with the mother, hoping against hope that the author had not thrown out the beloved, well-worn items of the mother.
In the final analysis, I still credit this as a good book and Kelly Corrigan as a good author. I still am grateful for the chance to enter her world and sit alongside as she faces a demon and confronts it in the only way she knows how. I just can't get away from the longing to make her father's faith more relevant in her own life.
I want her to wake up and say to the world, "You know, I was wrong. Drinking doesn't really assuage the grief of cancer as much as turning our rawest, weakest moments over to the wisdom and authority of One who is greater and stronger and wiser than we could ever hope to be." I want her to embrace the gift of her husband and two daughters and welcome other options for fulfilling her longing for more children. I want her to adopt an orphaned European child who is battling leukemia because she has so much to give to a child in that position. In essence, I want to write her life for her.
Thankfully, I can't barge in and write her life for her. Indeed, that would be akin to her Bed, Bath, and Beyond extravaganza. I can only sit back and appreciate that we are all different. Despite our differences in faith and lifestyle, I can appreciate her struggle with cancer and rejoice in her survivor status. I can wait for another book, perhaps about her relationships with other women (in a similar vein to the fabulous essay that sparked the original video I viewed).
Moreover, I can point you to another splendid video (one where Borders decided to feature Kelly Corrigan's MOTHER). Visit Kelly Corrigan's website and view the videos. She is quite lovely. You'll meet both her mother and father in the book's trailer video, and ... chances are ... if you view this video, you'll want to read the book (despite some of my misgivings).
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