The Cruelest Identity Theft
Some books leave a strong impression in the reader's mind. Some books leave a scar because they burrow deep into those tender, unprotected places. Still Alice, by Lisa Genova, is one of those novels that will haunt you, especially if they conjure images of loved ones in your own life.
I'm not sure that this book qualifies as science fiction... but it is fiction based on hard science, neuroscience, written by a Harvard neuroscientist with the expertise to make it realistic and the compassion to make it poignant. It traces the downward trajectory of a brilliant woman stricken with early onset Alzheimer's disease. The story unfolds from college professor Alice Howland's point of view as her intellect, her memory, the core of her being are stolen from her by the inexorable progression of plaques inside her brain. She fights against this ultimate form of identity theft, but of course she knows - and we know, as readers - that her enemy is currently beyond the ability of modern medical science to conquer.
I've seen Alzheimer's steal members of my own family away. To me, this is the cruelest, most tragic way for a person's life to end: long before their body surrenders, their essence has been drained away, reducing their loved ones to strangers... and rendering them unrecognizable to their loved ones at the same time. It's protracted, merciless, and utterly exhausting emotionally and physically to caregivers. It robs the patient of his or her independence and essential dignity. And yet, despite the tragedy awaiting Alice Howland at novel's end, author Genova shows us that a spark of her perseveres, preserved - if nowhere else - in the loving memories of her family, who continue to offer comfort and support. To the final page, she is "still Alice."
This novel haunted me, because it hit so close to home. I find Alzheimer's terrifying, quite frankly, but Alice Howland's story provided insights that at least helped me understand what it feels like for my mom, who is now in the late stages of the disease. In a fundamental way, we've already lost her. I know, from the many times we talked about this years ago, that this scenario is her worst nightmare. My dad has called it (with a quaver in his voice) "the long goodbye." He's done an amazing job of providing a familiar, loving presence throughout her ordeal, as each day brings new losses and new terrors for her. Alzheimer's in the real world is much scarier than any horror story I've ever read.
If you, too, know someone with Alzheimer's, this book is a must-read. I began it with great trepidation. I finished it with gratitude. It may help you hold that cruelest of identity thieves at bay and preserve some treasured memories of your afflicted loved one. That, in the end, is a victory for both of you.
I'm not sure that this book qualifies as science fiction... but it is fiction based on hard science, neuroscience, written by a Harvard neuroscientist with the expertise to make it realistic and the compassion to make it poignant. It traces the downward trajectory of a brilliant woman stricken with early onset Alzheimer's disease. The story unfolds from college professor Alice Howland's point of view as her intellect, her memory, the core of her being are stolen from her by the inexorable progression of plaques inside her brain. She fights against this ultimate form of identity theft, but of course she knows - and we know, as readers - that her enemy is currently beyond the ability of modern medical science to conquer.
I've seen Alzheimer's steal members of my own family away. To me, this is the cruelest, most tragic way for a person's life to end: long before their body surrenders, their essence has been drained away, reducing their loved ones to strangers... and rendering them unrecognizable to their loved ones at the same time. It's protracted, merciless, and utterly exhausting emotionally and physically to caregivers. It robs the patient of his or her independence and essential dignity. And yet, despite the tragedy awaiting Alice Howland at novel's end, author Genova shows us that a spark of her perseveres, preserved - if nowhere else - in the loving memories of her family, who continue to offer comfort and support. To the final page, she is "still Alice."
This novel haunted me, because it hit so close to home. I find Alzheimer's terrifying, quite frankly, but Alice Howland's story provided insights that at least helped me understand what it feels like for my mom, who is now in the late stages of the disease. In a fundamental way, we've already lost her. I know, from the many times we talked about this years ago, that this scenario is her worst nightmare. My dad has called it (with a quaver in his voice) "the long goodbye." He's done an amazing job of providing a familiar, loving presence throughout her ordeal, as each day brings new losses and new terrors for her. Alzheimer's in the real world is much scarier than any horror story I've ever read.
If you, too, know someone with Alzheimer's, this book is a must-read. I began it with great trepidation. I finished it with gratitude. It may help you hold that cruelest of identity thieves at bay and preserve some treasured memories of your afflicted loved one. That, in the end, is a victory for both of you.
#SFWApro
No comments have been added yet.
Work in Progress
Random musings from a writer struggling to become an author.
- Brian Burt's profile
- 51 followers
