05 October 2015
Mo(u)rning Joy by Kalan Chapman Lloyd
Title: Mo(u)rning Joy
Genre: Biographies & Memoirs, Nonfiction
I received this book for a review at the beginning of September. It’s October already, and I still haven’t reviewed it. For a long time I didn’t know what to write in my review. It was a topic I hadn’t ever encountered, a story I had never heard in such details. Every time I sat in front of my PC and got ready to write down a review, nothing came. I stared at the blank page and postponed the review for another day. Until I began forgetting the story.
And still, Kalan’s story is not easy to forget. Because it is about a boy who was and was not. A story of a boy who came into this world through agonizing pain and suffering. A boy who never got the chance to see a bit of this world, which is so crazy and so wrong, but which is so beautiful and so exceptional.
I think I know now why I couldn’t review this book. I was scared of writing something that might have hurt the author. She had suffered and she had learned to live with her pain. What if I wrote something without even realizing I was causing pain? It stopped me from writing a review for almost a month.
Mo(u)rning Joy is the story of parents looking forward to the birth of their first child. But the child was never born. There was lot of pain, physical and mental. There was a lot of anger. So much that sometimes I had to stop reading. It was too much for me. I have never been pregnant, I don’t know how I would react if anything like that happened to me. Knowing that your child has died inside you and having to wait for another day, then going through endless pain that doesn’t come to an end. Would I be as angry with people around me? People who had nothing to do with my pain? Would I take every word of comfort with so much hostility? I don’t know. And I am not going to judge.
I’m an atheist; I don’t believe in gods, prayers, and heaven. I don’t know if there is afterlife, or if there has been a “beforelife”; I admit I don’t always understand religious people. Or maybe I never understand them, their obsession with prayers and their Gods. So maybe I am not the best person to review a book written by a religious person. Maybe that was another reason I couldn’t review this book for such a long time. Even now, when I think about it, I’m not sure how I feel. There are so many mixed feelings, so many abrupt thoughts lurking in my head. And I can’t hold onto them, I am still thinking. I guess if a book makes you think after a month, it doesn’t matter if you liked it or not. It means that it gave you something. Call it a knowledge. Or an experience.
And while I have managed to forget some of the details of this story, I remember the boy. His name is Caswell. And this is his story.
review memoir biography nonfiction
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