I have a hard time recalling any book review that made me cry, but this sure did the trick. Not recommended for work if you're in an open plan office, but do print and save it for a private moment.
Is it possible you just have a tumor in the part of your brain that regulates emotions? Because this is becoming alarming.
I had a really hard time following the gist of her review (in the end, I still have no idea if she liked or disliked the book). But this part really spoke to me, as the father of an autistic kid.
[After talking about all the ways her daughter is amazing] "Am I “cheerily generalizing” as Solomon says of other Down syndrome parents, “from a few accomplishments” of my child? Perhaps I am. But one thing I’ve learned these last four years that possibly Solomon has not: All of our accomplishments are few. All of our accomplishments are minor: my scribblings, his book, the best lines of the best living poets. We embroider away at our tiny tatters of insight as though the world hung on them, when it is chiefly we ourselves who hang on them."
I can't really tell what her objection is to the book (which I just finished reading) Seems she perceives Solomon as unfairly claiming membership in her exclusive club. Solomon writes with warmth and kindness about a wide range of human existence. I don't know how anyone can come away from Far From the Tree without a greater compassion for all who have ever faced even the slightest question of a child's well-being. Evidently Cristina Nehring has a problem with anyone who has had it "easier" than her. She need to reread the book.
"Would you rather live with Shakespeare or a cute puppy?"
Sorry, I have nothing against your kid, lady, but that is when I closed the fuck out of that tab.
@My Number Is My Address The next line, "I would wager Eurydice gives as much as any person alive," made me feeling like calling one of those Vegas betting places. I'm feeling pretty lucky right now.
Then I tried to figure out how many times the author talked about how blond or dimpled her daughter is, because I felt like that was all that I was coming away with from this article about how precious a child's inner beauty is, THEN I finally closed tab.
This confirms my long held suspicion that my heart is a black piece of coal.
@dado Keep kidding yourself. Life will crack it to pieces one of these days.
I was sure this would be about that you-know-what about you-know-who, which had me in sobs last night.
God, I hate jugly kids and ungrateful mothers. And Paris! Alex, more bears, please.
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