Mother, Come Home by Paul Hornschemeier
My rating: 5/5 cats
i can’t even get close to reviewing this book. (“well, who asked you to?,” they sneer) i can’t, but i feel like i have to. i have been putting it off for a really long time now but i think i have to get it over with once and for all. this review done, i am going to wash my hands of all complicated human emotions because this week has been far too full of mourning and apprehension and second-guessing and worry. after this, i am pure cylon and you can all go to hell with your feelings.
after this review, of course…
this book will probably make you cry. i don’t know you, and i don’t care how emotionally hardened you think you are, because i’m pretty sure it will make you cry. i don’t know what it is in particular about it that makes it more shattering than other books that deal with death – i remained dry-eyed throughout “don’t go where i cant follow,” i never get emotionally invested enough in movies to be a movie-crier (although, like jen, i totally leaked at ‘up’) but there’s something extra in this – some sort of drug blended in with the ink which causes heightened emotions upon contact. even reading other people’s reviews of it had me a little emotional (especially the ones i was directly or indirectly responsible for, reading-wise). it is a powerful little piece of work.
don’t read this book if you have ever lost anyone. don’t read this book if you have ever felt culpable in anyone’s death. don’t read this book if you know anyone who has ever lost someone or had an emotion or a family or ever been confused or frustrated or was unsure where the “you” was in relation to someone else. don’t read this book when you are already sad. don’t read this book when you are happy. i mean, read this book – please read this book. but be aware.
and that is my final feeling.
