Book Review: Before I Forget by Tory Henwood Hoen
There’s something undeniably captivating about a book whose cover blends whimsy and starkness, much like life itself. When I first laid eyes on Before I Forget, the flashing pink typeface against the serene imagery of water fowl instantly drew me in. I had a feeling this book held more than just a pretty exterior, and Tory Henwood Hoen did not disappoint with her exploration of Alzheimer’s, family dynamics, and the quest for meaning amid memory loss.
From the start, the novel tackles significant themes with palpable courage. The protagonist, Cricket, navigates the turbulent waters of familial care, estrangement, and the almost haunting reality of a loved one’s fading memory. I found myself resonating with her sense of isolation: “He’s fine,” she replies to inquiries about her father, even as she grapples with the undeniable shifts in their relationship—a sentiment that rings painfully true for many.
Hoen’s writing style is rich and evocative, allowing readers to dive deep into Cricket’s psyche. One particularly striking moment reads, “I coughed up my own heart,” an image that paints both bewilderment and heartbreak. It reminds us that sometimes the act of living can feel as surreal as it is painful. This narrative technique enhances both the emotional depth and the pacing, interspersing moments of anxiety with eloquent introspection.
However, my experience with Before I Forget was not without frustration. While I understand why so many friends rave about this book, I felt an urgent need to voice a concern that gnawed at me throughout the reading. The portrayal of disabled individuals, especially those grappling with Alzheimer’s, often veered into the territory of the "magical disabled person." They appeared sage-like, as if their conditions provided profound insights unattainable by the rest of us—an idea that compromises the genuine narrative around disability. As I read, moments of brilliance, such as Cricket’s revelation of the potential beauty found in memory loss, were marred by the suggestion that health struggles must somehow redefine one’s value or purpose.
Yet, on the flip side, there were aspects that truly shone. Take, for example, the quote, “How freeing, I think. For him—but also for me.” This notion that the erosion of memory may clear the way for deeper truths is thought-provoking, encouraging readers to reframe how they approach illness and loss.
The poignant critique of societal norms in America around care and support for disabled individuals was another highlight of the narrative. I couldn’t help but nod along when Hoen underscores the difference between the experiences of citizens compared to those in other countries, shining a light on the stark realities that often go unaddressed.
So, who might enjoy Before I Forget? If you’re drawn to stories that blend emotional depth, family dynamics, and societal critique, you’ll likely find much to appreciate here. Just approach the narrative with a discerning eye regarding its representation of disability.
Ultimately, my journey through Before I Forget has been a mixed bag of revelation and critique. It left me contemplating the delicate balance of life and loss, memory and love, all while reiterating a crucial reminder: the value of a person exists beyond how their story inspires others. Thank you to Tory Henwood Hoen, St. Martin’s Press, and NetGalley for the opportunity to read this compelling yet complex narrative.
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