Love and hope are both illogical and unreasonable. Life is so frustrating when we refuse in our natural curiosity and anxiety to stop investigating "why" things happen--it's much more emotionally peaceful to radically accept that we're here to learn things and teach things and connect across the chasm of biology.
This book underlines, highlights and evidences this convincingly. BUT. This book made me so mad.
The author's writing is great. She's a successful working career woman and mom of two who has a shocking cancer diagnosis. She is dealing with A LOT and grappling with day to day stuff with aplomb. Seriously, she is a role model in a lot of ways.
But the romantic relationships in the book are a big part of the author's life, too, before and during the cancer's progression. These relationships and how the author analyzes them are the source of *all* of my frustration.
Meet Don. Don is the author's ex husband and father of her two kids. He has a terrible and lengthy affair, is caught and is contrite, but then the marriage dissolves anyway through some additional major betrayals on his part that affect the kids. The author comments at one point, "Truth's absence is the only way to measure its worth," then, later, "If truth is constant, a coherent plot emerges". She moves emotional mountains to co-parent and protect her kids from the damage their dad has done. At eight and ten years old I understand why she wanted to shield them, but I also wonder if she suppressed, to an extent, some natural and necessary grieving steps. What if the cancer was caused or exacerbated by the stress resulting from Don's affair? Forgiving is love's power to break nature's rule, she says. Well, I hope that's gonna happen for her, but her cancer is pretty advanced.
Second problematic romantic relationship: Sebastien. Reading, it's easy to imagine the author developing a massive crush on Sebastien, someone she began dating just before her diagnosis who also happens to be a surgeon AND volunteers to advise on her medical case. He also cooks gourmet dinners for her, travels with her, has deep intellectual conversations with her, and exhibits integrity of character. What a hunk. But then it's revealed that his intellect hid a cunning, a lack of earnestness (he's seeing someone else), and I felt so betrayed for the author again. Of course he's hesitant to commit, because she might only have a year or two to live. But he's so smooth about setting boundaries with her and seeking other options that it seems he didn't even struggle at all.
Fierce love is worth profound pain, but vulnerability requires trust. Closeness. Sacrifice. I know that I offer that to my husband, though imperfect, it's good. I'm never duplicitous. I treat him the way I want to be treated. God forbid either of us ever develops cancer, but medical challenges are doubtless much less lonely to grapple with when you have complete confidence in the fidelity of your partner! I'm so thankful for my boring life. Long may it continue this way!
(Amy, I'm rooting for you!)