rachelb36's review against another edition
2.0
2.5 stars
Rapp made some good points and observations in the first half of the book, particularly on what it's like to live with a disability (read: not as devastating as people imagine). The second half dragged for me, and felt like filler. Perhaps this was just because the author and I have very different personalities and so we grieve very differently.
It was sad to see that though she had grown up in a Christian family, the author never became a Christian herself, and her spiritual beliefs are a conglomeration of various religions and systems. Because of this, she doesn't necessarily believe in God or heaven, and so has no assurance of life after death for her son. This left the book without any real conclusion, and that contributed to my not liking the second half much.
I hate to complain about a book like this, that's so personal, but I also wished she had spent a few more minutes describing Tay-Sachs, the rare disease her son has. I'd never heard of it, and the book didn't give me a clear picture of what it actually is.
Rapp quotes a lot of poetry, which just isn't my thing, and some of the language was a bit flowery for me. There was also quite a bit of profanity.
I wouldn't bother to recommend this one. It's one of those books I'll barely remember a year from now. It's already fading fast...
Rapp made some good points and observations in the first half of the book, particularly on what it's like to live with a disability (read: not as devastating as people imagine). The second half dragged for me, and felt like filler. Perhaps this was just because the author and I have very different personalities and so we grieve very differently.
It was sad to see that though she had grown up in a Christian family, the author never became a Christian herself, and her spiritual beliefs are a conglomeration of various religions and systems. Because of this, she doesn't necessarily believe in God or heaven, and so has no assurance of life after death for her son. This left the book without any real conclusion, and that contributed to my not liking the second half much.
I hate to complain about a book like this, that's so personal, but I also wished she had spent a few more minutes describing Tay-Sachs, the rare disease her son has. I'd never heard of it, and the book didn't give me a clear picture of what it actually is.
Rapp quotes a lot of poetry, which just isn't my thing, and some of the language was a bit flowery for me. There was also quite a bit of profanity.
I wouldn't bother to recommend this one. It's one of those books I'll barely remember a year from now. It's already fading fast...
joelevard's review against another edition
5.0
Lois McMaster Bujold, a great writer made no less great by the fact that she writes science-fiction books with covers like this, wrote one of the truest things I have ever read about becoming a parent: “It's a transcendental act. Making life… 'By this act, I bring one death into the world.' One birth, one death, and all the pain and acts of will between.”
This, from a story with spaceships and lasers in it.
When we have children, we birth potential into the world. We question ourselves, our spouses: who will this person be? What foods will he like? Will she be as smart as you? Will he inherit your sense of humor, your eyes, your smile? Will she be healthy? Happy? Everyone loves to tell you how your life is going to change after having kids, about how things will never be the same but also how you’ll discover a love you never imagined you could feel, filling you up and overflowing.
What they usually don’t mention is the fear. The knowledge that so many terrible things can go wrong. That the world can be a bright and beautiful place, but also a cold and hard one, and that your child will experience a measure of both. You can only hope it’s more good than bad. Only hope, and do everything you can to make it so.
The Still Point of the Turning World is the story of a mother for whom all those fears became suddenly, crushingly immediate. Writer Emily Rapp (author of a respected memoir about growing up with a disability that requires her to wear an artificial limb) saw her future collapse in on itself one January day in 2011 when she took her infant son Ronan to the doctor for an eye exam and learned he had Tay-Sachs disease, a debilitative genetic disorder that is always fatal, that cannot be treated or cured, only managed.
Read the rest of the (slightly revised and less digressive) review on the Barnes & Noble Book Blog.
This, from a story with spaceships and lasers in it.
When we have children, we birth potential into the world. We question ourselves, our spouses: who will this person be? What foods will he like? Will she be as smart as you? Will he inherit your sense of humor, your eyes, your smile? Will she be healthy? Happy? Everyone loves to tell you how your life is going to change after having kids, about how things will never be the same but also how you’ll discover a love you never imagined you could feel, filling you up and overflowing.
What they usually don’t mention is the fear. The knowledge that so many terrible things can go wrong. That the world can be a bright and beautiful place, but also a cold and hard one, and that your child will experience a measure of both. You can only hope it’s more good than bad. Only hope, and do everything you can to make it so.
The Still Point of the Turning World is the story of a mother for whom all those fears became suddenly, crushingly immediate. Writer Emily Rapp (author of a respected memoir about growing up with a disability that requires her to wear an artificial limb) saw her future collapse in on itself one January day in 2011 when she took her infant son Ronan to the doctor for an eye exam and learned he had Tay-Sachs disease, a debilitative genetic disorder that is always fatal, that cannot be treated or cured, only managed.
Read the rest of the (slightly revised and less digressive) review on the Barnes & Noble Book Blog.
herlifewithbooks's review against another edition
4.0
Well, this book will break you up into a million pieces. This is a memoir, but not the kind of memoir you think it is. Rapp doesn't indulge you in any sympathetic, heart wrenching details about her life as the parent of a baby with a terminal illness for one moment. Instead, you must bear witness to her experience as a mother just as she did to her son's short life.
Also, for those who took Kenneth Kidd's summer class at Simmons this book is full of philosophy about the body - what it means to have a body, even if that body is broken or dying. Easily enough theoretical content to make it into a syllabus.
Also, for those who took Kenneth Kidd's summer class at Simmons this book is full of philosophy about the body - what it means to have a body, even if that body is broken or dying. Easily enough theoretical content to make it into a syllabus.
jaclynday's review against another edition
4.0
Selena recommended this book to me and it’s beautiful. Sad and heartbreaking, but beautiful. Rapp writes of her infant son, Ronan, who was diagnosed at 9 months old with Tay-Sachs, a fatal degenerative disease. The book is a memoir, though not structured like the typical one. Instead, Rapp writes about grief more generally, often about the role of religion and spirituality and the afterlife in her new reality. Her writing style is very close to poetry.
in2reading's review against another edition
3.0
The author's pain at knowing she will lose her son to Tay Sachs disease at an early age leaps off the pages in this heartfelt memoir. Finding no consolation in religion (although she has studied it extensively), Rapp turned to writing to cope with the death sentence her son Ronan was given at 6 months of age. The frustrations, sorrow and moments of joy while parenting a child with a life expectancy of 2 to 4 years are related. Ronan died on February 15th at about 3 1/2 years old.
anngarth8's review against another edition
2.0
I was expecting this book to be a more traditional memoir, and instead it was more like an essay collection, which wasn't really what I was looking for. I also didn't feel like it had much structure, on a macro-level, though maybe that was part of the point?
alexisrt's review against another edition
5.0
This was beautifully written and unimaginably brutal. I nearly had to abandon it because of the impossibility of reading it while my 2 year old son played in the same room. I forced myself to persevere almost out of a sense of guilt that I had the privilege of looking away when Rapp did not.
Narratives about a child's illness are a tough genre that have to tread a line between exploiting the child and turning it into something that is all about the parent. Rapp has chosen the latter, but her focus is on her own experience of grieving a child who has not yet died (at the time of writing). What might be narcissistic in other hands is simply pain flung onto the page. It is immediate and almost unbearable, asking us to look up close at the thing parents least want to consider.
Narratives about a child's illness are a tough genre that have to tread a line between exploiting the child and turning it into something that is all about the parent. Rapp has chosen the latter, but her focus is on her own experience of grieving a child who has not yet died (at the time of writing). What might be narcissistic in other hands is simply pain flung onto the page. It is immediate and almost unbearable, asking us to look up close at the thing parents least want to consider.