I've read a few interesting books and would like to tell you about them today.
I’ve been trying to expand my reading this
summer, and part of that has meant seeking out memoirs by people whose
lives are very different from mine. Sober Mom fits that
description. Liz Jannuzzi’s account of her alcoholism, its devastating
effects on her marriage and family, and her eventual recovery through AA
is a candid and often remarkable story.
What struck me most was
the amount of energy and planning that went into maintaining the
illusion that everything was fine. Jannuzzi was raising three young
children while drinking vodka for much of the day, all while hiding
bottles, concealing how much she drank, hiding the money she spent on
alcohol, and trying to keep her husband from discovering the extent of
the problem. Her description of reaching the point where she could no
longer keep the pieces of her life separated is painful but compelling.
I
also appreciated that Jannuzzi doesn’t present recovery as a neat,
inspirational transformation. There are cravings, uncomfortable amends,
grief, marital difficulties, and plenty of awkward moments. Her
willingness to describe the less glamorous parts of AA and sobriety
makes the story feel honest rather than overly polished. There is also a
welcome vein of humor amid some very difficult material.
One
caveat for those of us who enjoy a drink: Jannuzzi occasionally
describes vodka and cranberry juice with such lush, sensory detail that I
found myself thinking, "Well, that sounds pretty good!" It's an
acknowledgement of her writing ability, and an interesting reminder of
just how seductive alcohol can be, even when you’re reading about the
destruction it caused.
This isn’t a memoir I would describe as an
easy or comfortable read, but it is a compelling one. Jannuzzi tells
her story with considerable honesty and gives a vivid picture of what
alcoholism can look like when it is hidden behind the façade of an
ordinary suburban family life. Most importantly, Sober Mom offers
a convincing portrait of recovery as something built one day at a time,
with help from other people and a willingness to confront the damage
left behind. This was four stars for me.
Any Bitter Thing is a quietly moving novel about memory,
forgiveness, family, and the ways that the truth can become complicated
when viewed through the imperfect lens of time.
After a
near-fatal accident leaves Lizzy Mitchell struggling to recover, she
becomes preoccupied with the vision she had while unconscious: her
beloved Uncle Mike, the Catholic priest who raised her until she was
nine. Twenty years earlier, accusations of impropriety had destroyed
Mike’s career and separated him from Lizzy, sending her away to boarding
school. Now, as Lizzy tries to piece together what happened to her in
the accident, she also finds herself compelled to revisit the events
that changed both their lives.
I particularly liked the way
Monica Wood explores the uncertainty surrounding memory. Lizzy isn't
simply trying to uncover an objective version of the past; she has to
confront how children understand adult behavior, how families protect
themselves, and how easily suspicion can become accepted as fact. The
question of what really happened to Father Mike provides the mystery at
the heart of the novel, but the emotional consequences are ultimately
more important than solving it.
Lizzy's recovery, her troubled
marriage, and her complicated feelings about Mike give the story plenty
of emotional depth. At times the novel felt a little overly sentimental
to me, and some of the spiritual elements didn't completely work for me.
Still, Wood writes with considerable compassion, and I appreciated that
she allows her characters to be flawed without making them easy to
judge.
This is ultimately a story about the damage caused by
secrets and accusations, but also about the possibility of
reconciliation and hope. Any Bitter Thing isn't a fast-paced
mystery so much as an intimate exploration of how we remember the people
we love, and how understanding the past can sometimes help us find a
way forward. Thanks for the four-star recommendation, Becky!
I thought that Homeschooled sounded like
it might be interesting, but I found myself wishing the author had
chosen a different title and framed the book quite differently. This is not
a book about homeschooling so much as a memoir about an unhealthy
mother-son relationship marked by codependency, isolation, emotional
manipulation, mental health issues, and familial dysfunction.
Stefan’s
mother removes him from school because she believes his teachers are
stifling his creativity, but what follows is far removed from what most
people would consider education. His world becomes increasingly
restricted, while his mother involves him in increasingly bizarre
projects and attempts to control his behavior and development. The
emotional manipulation and isolation are particularly disturbing because
they are presented under the guise of homeschooling.
One episode
that stayed with me was his mother’s insistence that he crawl around
the house like a baby, supposedly as a way to improve his penmanship. I
kept wondering what his father thought about having a middle-school-aged
son crawling around the house because his mother believed this was
somehow beneficial. The author repeatedly mentions that his father was
very busy, but I found myself wishing there had been more exploration of
his role in what was happening. I would also like to have read some of
the older brother's thoughts.
There is no question that this is a
sad and, ultimately, empowering story. Stefan’s return to public school
after five years of isolation and his gradual discovery of a life
outside his mother’s control are compelling. His journey toward
independence is the strongest part of the book, but it still felt like
Block excused or even romanticized much of his mother's highly aberrant
behavior.
For me, the homeschooling aspect felt almost incidental
to the larger story. The real subject is a mother whose controlling
behavior and increasingly eccentric worldview profoundly affected her
son. I think I would have connected with the book more if it had been
presented as a memoir about mental health, family dysfunction, and a
young person struggling to establish his own identity rather than as a
book purportedly about homeschooling.
There are some powerful and
heartbreaking moments here, but ultimately I found the framing of the
story frustrating, and I still have many unanswered questions about what
this family went through. 1.5 stars rounded up. Now I'd love to know what you're reading!
