I am a novelist, a journalist, a humanist celebrant, and coauthor with my husband of the best-selling Nicci French thrillers. Witnessing my father’s dementia and his slow-motion dying radically transformed the way I think about what it is to be human. In 2014, I founded John’s Campaign which seeks to make the care of those who are vulnerable and powerless more compassionate, and which is now a national movement in the UK. In 2016, I won the Orwell Prize for Journalism for ‘exposing Britain’s social evils' in the pieces I wrote exploring the nature of dementia.
I wrote
The Last Ocean: What Dementia Teaches Us about Love
There cannot be a more brilliant or more shattering evocation of what it feels like to gradually realise you are forgetting yourself and vanishing from your own life: the mind observes the mind’s deterioration. Bernleff’s pioneering novel, published in 1984, follows the journey of its narrator Maarten from the first days of confusion into a darkness of self-loss. A beautiful, poignant masterpiece about memory and forgetting.
Everyday Maarten notices his increasing forgetfulness, but his attempts to conceal it are fruitless. This novel shows the strength of the bond keeping him and his wife together, the result of a lifetime of loving, so that they manage to find a way to carry on in the face of deterioration.
Erwin Mortier is a poet, and this slim, intense volume is a haunting memorial to his mother in her final months. She died of early-onset dementia, and Mortier struggles to find adequate words for a condition that is profoundly connected to the failure of language and the connection of the self to the world.
'My mother, a house that is slowly collapsing, a bridge dancing to a tremor.'
It started when she could no longer remember the word for 'book'. Then her mind, her language and her identity began to slip away.
This is Erwin Mortier's moving, exquisitely observed memoir of his mother's descent into dementia, as a once-flamboyant woman who loved life and pleasure becomes a shuffling, ghostlike figure wandering through the house. Piecing together the fragments of her lost life, and his own childhood, Mortier asks: what do we become when we lose the repertoire of habits and words that make us…
This book (and its sequels) are about overcoming the odds; about learning to improve the skills and abilities you have, rather than dwelling on what you can't do. Conflict, plague, and scheming politicians are all featured along the way–but none of the characters are human!
Drowse Draaisma is a memory specialist, and this lucid, eloquent and humorous book celebrates the rich and fruitful pleasures of memory in later life (and takes the sting out of the natural forgetfulness that comes as we grow older). It combines science, psychology, anecdotes, advice, and it is above all a work of spirit and optimism.
With a storyteller's gift and a scientist's insights, Draaisma celebrates the unique pleasures of the aging memory
You cannot call to mind the name of a man you have known for 30 years. You walk into a room and forget what you came for. What is the name of that famous film you've watched so many times? These are common experiences, and as we grow older we tend to worry about these lapses. Is our memory failing? Is it dementia? Douwe Draaisma, a renowned memory specialist, here focuses on memory in later life. Writing with eloquence and humor, he explains…
This stunning memoir is the author’s recollection of the time between her husband’s diagnosis of a brain tumour that robbed him of language, and his death aged fifty-three. Time runs out for them very quickly. Sometimes the experience of tending to him is stupendously painful and hard (she is a mother of a small child as well as a wife to a dying man). Sometimes it is oddly peaceful. Every so often there are moments of euphoria. Always there is thought, imagination, empathy, care, and love. Above all, love.
In 2008 the art critic Tom Lubbock was diagnosed with a brain tumour. The tumour was located in the area controlling speech and language, and would eventually rob him of the ability to speak. He died early in 2011. Marion Coutts was his wife.
In short bursts of beautiful, textured prose, Coutts describes the eighteen months leading up to her partner's death. This book is an account of a family unit, man, woman, young child, under assault, and how the three of them fought to keep it intact.
Written with extraordinary narrative force and power, The Iceberg is almost shocking…
Every picture tells a story, but it’s not always the one we expect or remember. Christmas Actually is a festive drama about family and forgiveness and a snapshot of modern family life, addressing Instagram to motherhood and everything in between.
Why Christmas? My publisher wanted my new novel to have…
Getting a diagnosis of dementia can be terrifying, and it was for Wendy Mitchell, who was given it when only 58. But as this lovely account of her journey towards forgetting shows, dementia can be the start of a whole new adventure. She writes with engaging wit and courage about her daily battle with the illness. Funny, loveable, undaunted, she teaches us that dementia can bring gifts as well as sorrow.
THE RICHARD AND JUDY BOOK CLUB PICK
THE SUNDAY TIMES BESTSELLER
A BBC RADIO 4 BOOK OF THE WEEK
CHOSEN AS A 2018 SUMMER READ BY THE SUNDAY TIMES, FINANCIAL TIMES, DAILY TELEGRAPH, THE TIMES AND THE MAIL ON SUNDAY
'Revelatory' Guardian
'A miracle' Telegraph
'A landmark book' Financial Times
Brave, illuminating and inspiring, Somebody I Used to Know gets to the very heart of what it means to be human.
What do you lose when you lose your memories? What do you value when this loss reframes how you've lived, and how you will live in the future? How…
I wrote this book because of my own need to understand a disease that so profoundly affected my father and all who loved him, and because I believe there are better, kinder, and more hopeful ways of dealing with an illness that can dismantle a self. It’s a psychological, philosophical, intellectual, and emotional investigation into this loss, a collection of stories - some of which are desolating while others are redemptive and show how brave and resilient people can be. It is also a farewell to a man who I loved and who is the book’s guide and its sweet-natured ghost.
The constellation we know as Taurus goes all the way back to cave paintings of aurochs at Lascaux. This book traces the story of the bull in the sky, a journey through the history of what has become known as the sacred bull.
Everybody knows that all animals—bats, bears, sharks, ponies, and people—start out as a single cell: the fertilized egg. But how does something no bigger than the period at the end of this sentence give rise to the remarkable complexity of each of these creatures?
