Reviewed by Jeanne
I first encountered Helen Brown with Cleo, the Cat Who Mended
a Family. Helen hadn’t wanted the
scrawny black kitten, but her nine year old son Sam had begged and she’d given
in. Tragically, Sam was killed before
they ever got the kitten, leaving behind a heart-broken mother, father, and
younger brother. Helen reluctantly accepted Cleo after Sam's death as the kitten had been a connection with Sam, and had helped
Helen to learn to live again through her grief and breakup of her
marriage. I know this all sounds
dreadfully depressing, but that’s what I found so amazing about the book: while
Helen didn’t minimize her pain, somehow I found the book to be less a
tear-jerker and more of a warm, funny memoir that nevertheless touched the
heart.
When I learned that Helen had a new book out, this one about
dealing with a headstrong daughter, fighting breast cancer, and adopting a new
cat, I was hesitant. Cleo the cat and
Cleo the book were unique; I was uncertain that another book could be anywhere
near as good as that one.
I really should be used to being wrong by now. I am so frequently.
As the book begins, Helen is ready to move her family to another
house, one in a neighborhood where no one is quite so keen on keeping up with
the Joneses and where lawn mowing wasn’t a near religion. Also, she finds
herself stopping at Cleo’s grave for a chat, and while she knows she’s
perfectly sane she does understand that it looks a tad peculiar. She discovers Shirley—yes, the house has a
nameplate, an unattractive brass one affixed to the wall and not removable—and feels
that they are soul mates. They’re both of a certain age, a bit past their
prime, and possibly structurally unsound. Obviously, they’re meant for each
other. Helen’s husband Phillip is a bit
less enthused, but somehow they end up with Shirley, for better or for worse.
The house is going to need a lot of renovation, but just as they get started
Helen’s daughter Lydia throws her a curve by announcing that she wants to go to
Sri Lanka, possibly to become a Buddhist nun. Helen is shocked: has Lydia somehow
failed to notice that there’s a civil war going on in Sri Lanka? Has she
forgotten she’s just won an impressive scholarship? What about her plans to get her degree? But
not only is Lydia descended from a long line of strong, independent women, she’s
a Taurus, born in the Year of the Ox, at the Hour of the Ox—triple stubbornness.
Then Helen is diagnosed with breast cancer and is facing an uncertain future. As Helen struggles to cope, she discovers love at first sight is real. She’d
never believed it was, especially not between a middle-aged woman and a Siamese
kitten, but one look into those blue eyes and she’s a goner.
Helen says that someone told her your last cat picks your
next for you. If this is so, she wonders, what on Earth was Cleo thinking?
Jonah is nothing like Cleo and brings his own form of chaos into an already
disturbed household.
I’ve tried to describe Brown’s writing and why I love it so
much but I’ve been largely unsuccessful.
The best way I can put it is to say that when I read most other books of
this sort, I feel as if I’m in a room with a group of people and the author is
standing at a podium, telling us about his or her life. When I read Helen’s books—and note that I call her by her
first name-- I feel as if I’m at Blackbird Bakery sharing coffee and treats
while catching up with an old friend. I laugh a lot, I care a lot, and find
much to which I can relate. I become
totally absorbed. I had the book with me
in the car while running errands and decided to sit and read a chapter before
going into another store. One chapter
turned into several and when I made myself put the book down, I was totally disoriented. I had to get out of the car and look around
to figure out where I was.
Not many books do that to me.
No comments:
Post a Comment