The Living End is a tribute to an unforgettable woman, and a testimony to the way a disease can awaken an urgent desire for love and forgiveness. Told with sparkling wit and warmth, The Living End will resonate with families coping with Alzheimer's, and any reader looking for hope and inspiration.
Robert Leleux’s grandmother JoAnn was a steel magnolia, an elegant and devastatingly witty woman: quick-tongued, generous in her affections, but sometimes oddly indifferent to the emotions of those who most needed her. When JoAnn began exhibiting signs of Alzheimer’s, she’d been estranged from her daughter, Robert’s mother Jessica, for decades. As her disease progressed, JoAnn lost most of her memories, but she also forgot her old wounds and anger. She became a happy, gentler person who was finally able to reach out to her daughter in what became a strangely life-affirming experience, an unexpected blessing that gave a divided family a second chance.
Top 10 Things You Can Learn From Reading Robert Leleux’s Latest Memoir, The Living End
Many of us have friends or family who have been diminished by Alzheimer’s. And most of us believe that having your mind fail you would be a fate worse than death. OK. Be honest. How many of you have made this kind of pact with your spouse, “Honey, if that ever happens to me, just shoot me.”? This seems to be especially important to those in academia or the literary world—where being intelligent is what we appear to value most. So it was quite a surprise to see my friend, Robert Leleux—one of the most clever fellows I know—write a memoir about how his beloved grandmother, Joann, suffered from this debilitating disease, and yet, he saw the silver lining in this gloomy cloud.
And though The Living End deals with a serious topic, it also is filled with the humor we have grown to expect from Robert since guffawing our way through his first book, The Memoirs of a Beautiful Boy. So taking off on Robert’s humor hint—here are the Top 10 Things You Can Learn From Reading The Living End (along page clues to find the references):
10) Who could be described as a cross between Auntie Mame and Scarlett O’Hara (Sorry, no hints here—there are just too many references to list)
9) What kind of Christmas presents you should be giving your grandchildren (pg 66)
8) What is an alternate thing we should fear—other than fear, itself, of course (pg 113)
7) When it makes sense to buy back the house you were selling—which is a completely different reason than Steve Martin discovered in Father of the Bride 2 (pg 121)
6) Where you’ll find the funniest people (pg 113)
5) Why it’s important to bone up on your Broadway—which is a quite unlike the reason Eleanor Brown mentioned back in January (pg 131)
4) Why you should be nicer to your children (pg 129)
3) Why getting into the kingdom of heaven can be harder for a smart person than a rich one (pg 134)
2) How to insult your daughter—without even trying (pg 101)
1) How to look completely sane—even if you’re trying to lick paint off a Buick (pg 125)
Part love letter to a strong and stylish Southern woman, this latest autobiographical endeavor reflects Robert’s trademark humor, hopefulness, and humanity—in spades. The Living End is not just for those who know someone who is, has, or will suffer with Alzheimer’s. It’s for all of us who tend to dwell in the past or future. It’s a poignant reminder that the present is all we have. And really—who couldn’t use that?
After reading this book, you’ll want to sell your gun, call your spouse, and abandon the Alzheimer’s agreement. Honest.
Obviously heartfelt, but I kept feeling something was missing, even though the topic is one of almost universal experience (certainly well within the range of my current experience).
Surgery is always risky, and especially for older patients. It is commonly known that many do not recover from the anesthetic (although apparently not that commonly known). I wondered if the grandmother's impulsive decision for surgery was actually one of the first signs of the rational mind wandering off.
Of course the author loves his grandmother, but was a piece of work before the surgery ("Always get meaner"). She does indeed seem to become a better person.
A couple of quibbles with the editing. Near the end, "one of the principle fears..." is an embarrassing error to have slipped through. When talking about the southern sense of humour "because we lost the war", Germany and Russia are offered as examples of countries which should be laughing. That is a confusing list. Germany of course lost World Wars I and II, but Russia did not. A bit of sloppiness there as far as I am concerned. Sure, Russia has lost SOME wars, in history, but so has the USA.
Robert Leleux is funny and smart. He's turned his attention to a hilarious character of a lady: his grandmother.
I'm a native Hoosier (means I'm from Indiana) and married to a Southerner. I enjoyed Robert's assessment here:
"People are always resistant to this idea, but Texans and New Yorkers have a lot in common. In both places, personalities are bred for size and splash. Needless to say, size and splash aren't of top concern to your typical, tight-lipped Hoosier." (112)
And here's a memorable saying of Robert's grandma: "Screw the bastards. You're beautiful!"
Well written, an easy read to get engaged with. Alzheimers is a topic with so much to reflect on and I could relate to parts of this story. It was especially sad to hear how the medical establishment used to try to force reality on patients. Joanna seems like such an interesting woman. Robert seems to be a lovely person.
This sweet, short, mini-memoir of the author's grandmother, her illness, dementia and death shows how family connections persist. With a wry wit and an open style, Leleux shares a sad loss in a hopeful way.
This is a short sweet memoir about the author's feisty and adored grandmother's descent into the abyss that is Alzheimer's disease. It is also the story of an estranged family coming together to care for the grandmother and the healing of long-standing family rifts.
This is a very quick read and does provide some insight into one possible benefit of Alzheimer's disease: the forgetting of so many past wrongs by those who can no longer remember them and the forgiving of so many past wrongs by those whose focus becomes one of care-giving and love. It is also quite humorous because the women in this book are traditional grand southern belles of the highest order. I enjoyed reading this book and recommend it.
A moving and somehow hilarious memoir about a man's beloved grandmother Joanne sliding into the great forgetting of Alzheimer's. What makes it soar is the real story, which is how the author's mother, bewigged, bejewelled, overly-married, long estranged from her own mother, re-enters the picture and finds the connection she has always wanted with Joanne and been too proud to ask for. Leleux sees the illness as a strange gift that alters the forgive-forget polarity into one of forget-forgive. This is an arresting notion, in a book filled with larger-than-life ladies who, by the living end, are simply the size of life, itself.
This is a short memoir that will stay with you forever. The topic is a difficult one - Alzheimer's - but in many ways the tragedy of that disease takes a backseat to the real story, which concerns a fractured family, proud and feisty Texas women (are there any other kind?), and, most importantly, love. This book could so easily have turned into a heap of sentimentality or maudlin prose, but it does not. In fact, it gets better as it goes on, with some truly thoughtful and memorable reflections near the book's end.
My mother could have been described as a steel magnolia. It was necessary for her to move into my home for a period of four years. Then, as I was no longer able to care for her physical needs, she moved to a private assisted living home 1.1 miles from my home. This book was so familiar - it made me laugh & cry. I do not care for using "Alzheimer's " as a diagnosis/description for all dementia, but I liked this book. I could have written most of it myself. I recommend this as a Good Read for anyone with aging family and/or facing old age themselves.
Leleux's memoir of the time he spent with his grandmother both before and after Alzheimer's disease is flat-out beautiful. He's witty and wry, snarky and spiritual, loving and loved. His trenchant observations are sprinkled with poetry and classical allusions and New York sass. I loved JoAnn, I loved learning about Leleux's dysfunctional but incredible family.
I want to read his other book right away, and I hope he's writing something else soon. 4.5 stars
Author keeps focus in this small book (125 pages and could fit easily in a purse or pocket); adding the story of his mother-in-law, who does not have Alzheimer's herself, enhanced things, rather than padded them. Recommended especially for families of Alzheimer's patients, although the writing quality makes it a good read in general.
I expected to learn about living with and loving an Alzheimer's patient. And I did; but I also read a lot about life, family, and love in general. It was interesting to hear the author's comparison of his grandmother's decline with Alzheimer's vs his mother-in-law's decline from a stroke.
I thought this would be a heavy read; but I found myself chuckling at times. I recommend the book!
Just as delightful as his first book. LeLeux contemplates the meaning of identity and how letting go of painful memories (actually losing them in the case of his grandmother) can bring peace and happiness. A reminder that your biography is not your identity.
Interesting book that had me laughimg out loud at some points, simply because I am going through some of the some issues with a beloved grandmother right now and sometimes you just hae to laugh. Thanks for sharing and thanks for the ARC.
Bit funny, very emotional book. It definitely teaches you to life in the moment and appreciate every minute you have with everyone you are never certain when you will lose them or when something might Happen that will change them mentality.