A review by jaw417
Truths I Never Told You by Kelly Rimmer
3.0
I received a free advanced reader copy of this book from a Goodreads Giveaway.
Truths I Never Told You is both a contemporary and historical fiction in which dual timelines tell us the interconnecting stories of two generations of women grappling with their experiences of motherhood, family, and what society has told them about their place and role in the world.
Beth Walsh has a lot on her plate right now. As she and her siblings struggle with the realities of their father's declining health, she has also found herself feeling lost and like a failure as she adjusts to new motherhood. In the process of cleaning out her father's house, Beth uncovers a hidden pocket of chaos in the home's attic space, where the tumult of her father's deteriorating mind seems to have manifested in a hoarder-like scene of clutter, family mementos, and a series of abstract paintings he's created in his ailing state. Here Beth uncovers evidence of a long-buried family secret, as well as a confusing image of a father she doesn't recognize and a mother whose death was apparently not as simple and mundane as Beth and her siblings were raised to believe.
This book tackles a number of impactful issues, including postpartum depression, grief, women's reproductive health and rights (and the massive implications thereof), the stigma surrounding mental health, and the struggles of realizing that one's parents were not only human and flawed, but perhaps lived a much darker reality that one may have realized. There is a family mystery here, but I wouldn't call it a thriller; the unpacking of the truth is less about triggering a case of the spine-tingles and more about untangling a complicated series of issues and nuances surrounding the realities of family life and human struggles.
This book is written to be reflective which gives a lovely amount of insight into the character's inner processing, but also leads to a lot more telling than showing, which was off-putting at times. The dialogue felt a bit unnatural and stilted in places, and I found that for me the reading was much more about the the nuances of the issues at hand than about the cinematic potential of how the plot unfolded. I enjoyed the process, though, and though I devoured this book in about 48 hours, the experience felt like a meandering drive up a switchback mountain road, with only the headlights and my vague understanding of the landscape to light the way. Once we make it to the top, the view is clear and lit by morning light, shining a new perspective on the path that brought us here. Rimmer does a beautiful job of interweaving the two timelines and their respective dealings with the mysteries we're unraveling.
This is an especially worthwhile read for those looking for a historical perspective on women's reproductive freedoms and how a woman's autonomy over her own body is so intrinsically linked to the well-being and fate of her family as a whole.
Truths I Never Told You is both a contemporary and historical fiction in which dual timelines tell us the interconnecting stories of two generations of women grappling with their experiences of motherhood, family, and what society has told them about their place and role in the world.
Beth Walsh has a lot on her plate right now. As she and her siblings struggle with the realities of their father's declining health, she has also found herself feeling lost and like a failure as she adjusts to new motherhood. In the process of cleaning out her father's house, Beth uncovers a hidden pocket of chaos in the home's attic space, where the tumult of her father's deteriorating mind seems to have manifested in a hoarder-like scene of clutter, family mementos, and a series of abstract paintings he's created in his ailing state. Here Beth uncovers evidence of a long-buried family secret, as well as a confusing image of a father she doesn't recognize and a mother whose death was apparently not as simple and mundane as Beth and her siblings were raised to believe.
This book tackles a number of impactful issues, including postpartum depression, grief, women's reproductive health and rights (and the massive implications thereof), the stigma surrounding mental health, and the struggles of realizing that one's parents were not only human and flawed, but perhaps lived a much darker reality that one may have realized. There is a family mystery here, but I wouldn't call it a thriller; the unpacking of the truth is less about triggering a case of the spine-tingles and more about untangling a complicated series of issues and nuances surrounding the realities of family life and human struggles.
This book is written to be reflective which gives a lovely amount of insight into the character's inner processing, but also leads to a lot more telling than showing, which was off-putting at times. The dialogue felt a bit unnatural and stilted in places, and I found that for me the reading was much more about the the nuances of the issues at hand than about the cinematic potential of how the plot unfolded. I enjoyed the process, though, and though I devoured this book in about 48 hours, the experience felt like a meandering drive up a switchback mountain road, with only the headlights and my vague understanding of the landscape to light the way. Once we make it to the top, the view is clear and lit by morning light, shining a new perspective on the path that brought us here. Rimmer does a beautiful job of interweaving the two timelines and their respective dealings with the mysteries we're unraveling.
This is an especially worthwhile read for those looking for a historical perspective on women's reproductive freedoms and how a woman's autonomy over her own body is so intrinsically linked to the well-being and fate of her family as a whole.