Enjoy fast, free delivery, exclusive deals, and award-winning movies & TV shows with Prime
Try Prime
and start saving today with fast, free delivery
Amazon Prime includes:
Fast, FREE Delivery is available to Prime members. To join, select "Try Amazon Prime and start saving today with Fast, FREE Delivery" below the Add to Cart button.
Amazon Prime members enjoy:- Cardmembers earn 5% Back at Amazon.com with a Prime Credit Card.
- Unlimited Free Two-Day Delivery
- Streaming of thousands of movies and TV shows with limited ads on Prime Video.
- A Kindle book to borrow for free each month - with no due dates
- Listen to over 2 million songs and hundreds of playlists
- Unlimited photo storage with anywhere access
Important: Your credit card will NOT be charged when you start your free trial or if you cancel during the trial period. If you're happy with Amazon Prime, do nothing. At the end of the free trial, your membership will automatically upgrade to a monthly membership.
-46% $14.12$14.12
Ships from: Amazon Sold by: RNA TRADE LLC
$8.98$8.98
Ships from: Amazon Sold by: Ehood Books
Download the free Kindle app and start reading Kindle books instantly on your smartphone, tablet, or computer - no Kindle device required.
Read instantly on your browser with Kindle for Web.
Using your mobile phone camera - scan the code below and download the Kindle app.
OK
Audible sample Sample
I Liked My Life: A Novel Hardcover – January 31, 2017
Purchase options and add-ons
“An emotional journey of love, loss, healing, and redemption. I rooted for every character.” ―Lisa See, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Snow Flower and The Secret Fan
“I Liked My Life is a treasure of a novel. Warm-hearted and clever, the story will keep you reading until the final delicious revelation.” ―Diane Chamberlain, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author
“Warm and hopeful, this marvelous debut stands next to novels from Catherine McKenzie and Carolyn Parkhurst.” ―Booklist (starred)
"A heartbreaking and ultimately heartwarming read about life, death, and family." ―PopSugar, A Best Winter 2017 Book
“An absolutely stunning book...remarkable.” ―RT Book Reviews, 4 1/2 stars, Top Pick
A story from debut author Abby Fabiaschi that is "as absorbing as it is illuminating, and as witty as it is heartbreaking."
Maddy is a devoted stay-at-home wife and mother, host of excellent parties, giver of thoughtful gifts, and bestower of a searingly perceptive piece of advice or two. She is the cornerstone of her family, a true matriarch...until she commits suicide, leaving her husband Brady and teenage daughter Eve heartbroken and reeling, wondering what happened. How could the exuberant, exacting woman they loved disappear so abruptly, seemingly without reason, from their lives? How they can possibly continue without her? As they sift through details of her last days, trying to understand the woman they thought they knew, Brady and Eve are forced to come to terms with unsettling truths.
Maddy, however, isn’t ready to leave her family forever. Watching from beyond, she tries to find the perfect replacement for herself. Along comes Rory: pretty, caring, and spontaneous, with just the right bit of edge...but who also harbors a tragedy of her own. Will the mystery of Maddy ever come to rest? And can her family make peace with their history and begin to heal?
- Print length272 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherSt. Martin's Press
- Publication dateJanuary 31, 2017
- Dimensions5.75 x 1 x 8.5 inches
- ISBN-101250084873
- ISBN-13978-1250084873
"All the Little Raindrops: A Novel" by Mia Sheridan for $10.39
The chilling story of the abduction of two teenagers, their escape, and the dark secrets that, years later, bring them back to the scene of the crime. | Learn more
Similar items that may ship from close to you
Editorial Reviews
Review
"A heartbreaking and ultimately heartwarming read about life, death, and family." ―PopSugar, A Best Winter 2017 Book
“First-time novelist Abby Fabiaschi unwinds a tale wholly compelling, altogether believable and, at times, so heartbreaking it’s hard to believe she isn’t already an established author. ...an impossible-to-put-down and impressive debut.” ―Associated Press
“Readers will be enveloped by the emotional impact of Fabiaschi’s writing. Warm and hopeful, this marvelous debut stands next to novels from Catherine McKenzie and Carolyn Parkhurst in taking the reader on the emotional rides that define marriage and family.” ―Booklist (starred)
“Debut author Fabiaschi’s even tone and her characters’ bright intelligence inspire empathy... [and] explore the main theme: tragedy often has no reason, and those experiencing it must contend with the reasonlessness as well as the loss.... An earnest effort from a natural storyteller.” ―Kirkus
“An absolutely stunning book! I Liked My Life is a layered tale with meaningful things to say about life, death, grief and moving forward after tragedy…remarkable.” ―RT Reviews
“Simultaneously heartbreaking and heartwarming, this hard-to-put-down, engrossing debut will have readers wondering until the very end. It examines life and death, despair and faith, parenthood and marriage, the choices we make, and, most of all, love―making it a perfect choice for book clubs.” ―Library Journal (starred)
"I Liked My Life nonetheless is an affirmation of love and the ability to survive grief and find joy again. Book clubs in particular will take delight in the wealth of emotion to ponder from this talented new voice.” ―Shelf Awareness
“Abby Fabiaschi’s irresistible voice drew me in from the start. I Liked My Life is the smart, good-hearted story of a family’s loss and healing that pushed me to think as often as it made me smile.” ―Eleanor Brown, New York Times bestselling author of The Weird Sisters
“Abby Fabiaschi’s provocative new novel I Liked My Life has so much of everything that you will ache for and fear for the main character―but never forget her.” ―Jacquelyn Mitchard, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of The Deep End of the Ocean
“I Liked My Life is as absorbing as it is illuminating, and as witty as it is heartbreaking. A truly un-put-down-able read.” ―Karen White, New York Times bestselling author of Flight Patterns
“So vivid, gripping, and flat-out spectacular that I actually dreamt about this novel the night after I read it. It’s that good. If you’re looking for a book to fall in love with, a book that will make you think and cry and feel hopeful, please pick up this one.” ―Sarah Pekkanen, internationally bestselling author of The Opposite of Me and The Perfect Neighbors
“Once I started, I couldn't stop turning pages. A novel about mothers and daughters, fathers and daughters, life and death, guilt and forgiveness all bonded together in love that defies the grave: family. Abby Fabiaschi skillfully balances humor and heartache. An irresistible read.” ―Sarah McCoy, New York Times and international bestselling author of The Mapmaker’s Children
“An utterly satisfying, beautifully written, absolutely unforgettable debut novel that will make you laugh, cry, and remember to hug those you love.” ―Kristin Harmel, internationally bestselling author of The Sweetness of Forgetting and The Life Intended
“What happens when a woman who seemingly had it all ends her life? A reeling husband and daughter are left to pick up the pieces in this emotion-packed novel that keeps you guessing until the final, satisfying chapter. In her debut, Fabiaschi masterfully avoids overwrought sentimentality, digging to the heart of what matters in life, love and death.” ―Colleen Oakley, author of the Indie Next bestseller Before I Go
“Abby Fabiaschi’s debut novel, I Liked My Life, is a rich, multi-layered story about family and the enormous power of love. A compelling read that challenges what we know about ourselves and the people who love us.” ―National bestselling author Mia King
“Fans of Liane Moriarty will fall in love with this unpredictable tale!” ―Robin O’Bryant, New York Times bestselling author of Ketchup is a Vegetable
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
I Liked My Life
By Abby FabiaschiSt. Martin's Press
Copyright © 2017 Abagail Katherine WittnebertAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-250-08487-3
CHAPTER 1
Madeline
I found the perfect wife for my husband. She won't be as traditional as I was, which is good. She won't be as intelligent either, but Brady endured twenty years of my unending intelligence. Under my tutelage he learned that kale lowers cholesterol, a little girl wanting to marry her daddy is normal, and no matter how many times you look up at the road, emailing while driving is no safer than drinking and driving. These insights were valuable at the time, but useless given our present circumstance.
It's humbling, really. I spent my life hell-bent on not turning weak like my mother, who let jugs of Gallo wine make most of her decisions, and yet what Brady needs now is someone softer than me. Not fluffy, not gooey — he'd never fall for a ditzy or fickle woman — but not so damn right all the time either. Someone who won't be irritated by the intermittent pauses he takes in the middle of a sentence. A good listener, a sleeper-inner, a nonscorekeeping woman naturally inclined to nurture our daughter Eve.
Recruitment is the least I can do.
I focused on elementary teachers, knowing it takes the unique combination of enthusiasm and patience to choose a profession where you spend most of the day reasoning with six-year-olds. The demoralized state of my family won't be a turn-on to the easily deterred. I was at first disheartened to find almost every teacher accessorized with a wedding ring. It's as though men know how tiresome they are and set out to marry women proficient at putting up with baloney. The available pool was so picked over that the few remaining were bitter about it, but as I readied to move on to nurses, I spotted Rory. She was on bus duty, sporting large, circular sunglasses and rhinestone-studded flip-flops. She somehow managed to look cool at forty, hopefully by not having kids. Brady and Eve have no room for additional baggage; there can be no blending of families in their future. Rory's brown hair was pulled back in a loose braid, every inch of exposed skin covered in freckles. She remained all smiles, even when a shot of snot from a passing boy landed on her skirt.
She's in the grocery store now. I'm taking in particulars to make sure my instinct is correct. You'd think intuitive faculties heighten after death, a sort of cosmic prize for crossing the finish line, but so far they have not. The Last World sits unceremoniously like a movie screen below me. There's no spirit offering guidance. I'm not gracefully soaring above in white satin gleaning insight on the existential questions that once kept me awake at night. People think of ghosts as haunting, but it's the other way around. You all haunt me. My life is now a delicious dessert just out of reach.
Perhaps I'm in purgatory. If I had known I'd cross the finish line in my forties, I might have given formal religion more consideration. Brady's parents were big into it, and there were a couple years during adolescence when my mom dropped Meg and me off at catechism, leveraging the church as a sort of free babysitting. She got the idea at an AA meeting, which I assumed was where one went to learn new places to hide booze, since after she came home from AA she always relocated her stash.
What did that young nun tell us? I strain to recall the details. Evil souls go to hell, pure Catholics go to heaven, and souls destined for heaven but in time-out for reasons that are now a blur go to purgatory. I'm certain she said one couldn't go from purgatory to hell or stay in purgatory forever, because I remember finding it odd there were such defined, well-documented rules. Did someone have a direct line with God and, if so, could we kindly request more willpower for our mother?
I do sense there's more to the spiritual world than my current purview detects but see no path to get there. For me, there's nothing but space and time. That I put myself here makes it that much more agonizing. I won't find peace until I make things right for my family.
It pleases me when Rory selects a beautiful cut of veal. Brady would never fall for a vegetarian. Her choices suggest she's a good cook — pancetta, scallions, artichokes, capers — ingredients you'd avoid if you didn't know what you were doing. My replacement needs to know her way around a kitchen. Growing up, my mother leveraged the same ten ingredients for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Our menu recycled like the school cafeteria's. Steak and potatoes from the night before became steak and hash browns for breakfast, steak sandwiches for lunch, and beef stew for dinner. Mayonnaise was duct tape in her kitchen; there was nothing it couldn't fix. Too dry? Spicy? Soupy? Thank God for Hellmann's. By the time I had my own kitchen I was desperate for variety, leaving Brady spoiled. With me gone he's lost weight, too much weight. I notice it especially in his face, where his skin suddenly hangs to his cheekbones for dear life.
Dinners were a big event in our house. We ate late to accommodate Brady's work schedule. I gave Eve a sizable after-school snack and she never complained. We all looked forward to the hour together. Every night, I set the table with clean linens and our gold-rimmed wedding china. The china was mostly to tease my sister, Meghan, who claimed registering for it was a waste. "You'll never use it, Maddy," she warned. "No one ever does." I'd call her sometimes as I set out the plates and we'd laugh.
"Who knew you'd become such a domestic diva?" she said one night. "I thought the ambition of a Wellesley College valedictorian would shatter glass ceilings." Right before I thought to be offended, she added, "Somehow you were blessed with perspective most intelligent people lack."
That's Meg for you.
When Brady got home he'd go straight for the stereo. Hellos and everything else commenced only after the music started. Harry Connick Jr. is Brady's favorite. I joked it was because people say they look alike, with their brown flowing hair and eyes set wide apart, but really, Brady loves anything that relies heavily on the piano. Music floated through the house as I put the finishing touches on dinner. We'd often sit at the table long after we finished eating, announcing our roses and thorns of the day, making plans for the upcoming weekend, laughing, occasionally debating. I'd advertise the book that had my attention, and Eve and Brady would rattle off all the reasons they were too busy to borrow it when I finished.
Eve came out with some doozies during these meals, often putting her raging hormonal perspective out there to digest with dinner. One night, when her usual vivacity didn't return with her from school, she said, "My thorn today was realizing that I have nothing to do with who I am. I'm whatever you've made me." I choked on my wine and stared at my Freudian thirteen-year-old, recognizing it was a deep thought. But on a Wednesday night with no context it was also a little over my head. A scary moment for any mother.
Brady recovered more gracefully, laughing off her drama. "Whoa there. Mom and I aren't signing up for that responsibility. You own who you are." It still sounded strange to hear Brady call me Mom. We swore we'd never be that couple, but when Eve's first word was Maddy we abandoned our adult identities without much discussion.
Eve looked down at her plate and let out a practiced sigh. "I knew you'd say something like that."
"It's true; I'm predictable," Brady said. "But my parents didn't make me that way. It's who I am." Eve gave a half smile at his cleverness and I beamed at the impressive level of communication from my highly functional family. There was always plenty to talk about then. Now our house, which used to be inviting with its oversized wooden door and broken-in welcome mat, is so dark and silent that passersby assume it's empty.
"Miss Murray," a girl shrieks, approaching Rory and ending my reverie.
"Well hello, Annie." Rory abandons a sweet pepper mid-inspection to crouch down and squarely meet the girl's eager eyes.
"Mom's taking me to Boston tomorrow."
"That's wonderful. You'll have to tell the class about it Monday."
"Okay," Annie agrees, the trip now more exciting. "See ya."
She runs away but Rory remains caught in the moment. Her expression saddens. I need to know why. There must be a way to intuit underpinnings and have impact on the world I left behind. Why else would I be stuck here watching? I keep perfectly still, focusing all my energy on Rory. She clearly craves something, or maybe someone, but I can't discern what.
I'm impatient as she walks to the parking lot. Without the ability to intervene, I can't repair the damage done. My attention drifts as I recall Brady dutifully leaning in for a kiss good night. Sometimes a peck, but sometimes so much more. I linger there until my mind catches the impossibility and substitutes me with Rory. It's a wrenching thought. During those nutty hypothetical conversations married people have I always claimed I'd want Brady to remarry if I died first. I pictured him in his late sixties, needing a partner to tackle aging with. I hadn't realized how cruel afterlife would be, that I'd have to personally select my replacement because Brady would be disoriented and Eve would need support, that I'd have to watch the whole thing from this front-row seat.
I stay with Rory as she loads the trunk of her light-blue Volkswagen Bug. Everything about her is adorable. I struggle to think of the single adjective that would have described me. I come up with reliable, maybe charismatic on a good day. Certainly not adorable. My face was too angular and my opinions too sharp for a word like that. Rory shuffles around for the bag with eggs in it, moving the delicate goods to the floor. A planner.
Her cell phone rings as the engine starts. The noises compete, so Rory doesn't hear the call until the second ring. The car is in drive as she rakes through her bag. She grabs the phone, looks over her shoulder, and releases the brake in one motion, not realizing the car is moving forward until she hears the crunch of metal. The collision is with a pristine Audi A7.
"Augh," she says, tapping a palm to her forehead in an exaggerated gesture I've never seen anyone do without an audience. That was it — Augh — before answering the call on the fifth ring. "Hello?" She stretches her neck to assess the damage.
"Glad I caught you, honey. Your mother is having a tough go of it. Any chance you can get home early? She could use your magic touch."
"I'm about to drop off groceries, but then I'm supposed to tutor. Did Brian show? He promised he'd grace you with his presence at lunch." She laughs uncomfortably at the spite in her words.
"No, but he called. Said work was crazy. I'm sorry." The woman sighs. "I hate to add to your plate, but I can't fork over more meds without something in her stomach."
Tears well in Rory's eyes but don't spill over. "It's no problem, Greta."
"Thanks, sweetheart. I wish everyone I cared for was as lucky as your mother."
Rory cringes at the inaccuracy of that statement. "I'll be home in a bit."
It's borderline superhuman to me that Rory didn't share the news of her fender bender with Greta. Her self-control reminds me of an old deodorant ad from the nineties that featured a woman maintaining total confidence in any situation. The ad ended with a jingle that went, "She stays cool, soft, and dry." I never related to that ad. I would've retold every detail of THE ACCIDENT. It may have even made the Christmas letter. For Rory, it wasn't worth a mention. This quiet calm is exactly what Brady needs to counter the resurgence of his temper.
I know from often-exaggerated tales at Fourth of July barbecues that Brady was a hothead growing up. His college nickname was The Fireman from some drunken night when he yanked the fire alarm to evacuate a fraternity pledge who'd made a move on his girlfriend, then punched the guy as he exited the building. For as many times as I heard the story, I could never picture Brady in it. Sure, he could be a jackass, but he was my jackass and his temper was never a source of concern. Until now.
Rory walks around to gauge the damage. Her fender is dented but the A7 is unscathed, exposing the fifty-thousand-dollar price difference between the two cars. Still, she leaves a note: Guilty of an accidental tap ... Don't see any marks, but here is my name and number in case. It's the perfect response. The Fireman is no match for this level of serenity.
Rory hops back in the car and again digs through her bag. She grabs a red leather book with a Buddha imprint on the cover. It takes me a moment to realize it's a genuine, tab-for-each-letter, impossible-to- change-when-someone-moves, pages-falling-out-of-the-binding address book. A lost art. I can hear Brady ribbing her already: 1984 called and wants its address book back. Perhaps Rory will come up with a good retort. Over the years I came to think of Brady's iPhone as physically attached to his hand.
Rory finds the number she needs and musters up a good mood voice while it rings. "Hi, Nancy, it's Rory. I'm terribly sorry to cancel last minute, but can we reschedule tutoring for tomorrow?"
With her calendar now out, a separate leather-bound book, she scrawls an arrow toward the following day, gets off the phone, and immediately dials another number. This one she knows without consulting the Buddha. Before the voice on the other end has an opportunity to greet her, Rory starts in.
"Where the hell were you?" Her teacher's voice has turned aggressive and hollow, almost daring.
"I know. I'm sorry."
"If you were sorry we wouldn't be having this conversation. Again."
"I'm expected to all but sleep here."
Rory holds the phone away from her ear and talks loudly into the receiver. "She is your mother. This cancer will kill her. Soon. Did they skip the definition of hospice in law school?"
"Don't talk to me like I'm a child," he says, though he sounds like a child.
Rory slams her hand against the steering wheel of her still-parked car. "Damn it, Brian, THIS ISN'T ABOUT YOU. We're talking about forty-five minutes, once a week."
"That I don't have. I wish you'd stop treating me like a pile of shit for it."
"God. This is my fault, now?"
He clears his throat, which seems to strengthen his resolve. "We can't all be Rory Murray, Salt of the Fucking Earth."
"Fine," Rory says, defeated. "Focus on you. That's what you're good at."
This is my chance to get deeper into her thoughts. I zero in with willful concentration, intense to the point of exhaustion, and suddenly I feel it. A sensation. A flash. An understanding. Rory is alone and scared. She does not know what to do.
Brady and Eve can relate. And if I can read people's minds then certainly I can influence their actions. This woman is my chance to make things right. My family deserves more than I left behind.
Eve
Today is Mother's Day.
My first thought is stupid: my mom isn't here, so the holiday doesn't exist. But the rest of the world doesn't celebrate my mom, they celebrate their moms, and their moms didn't recently jump off a building.
My father claims he'll be stuck in a hotel conference room negotiating a deal of "strategic importance" with a bunch of people I'll never know. I guess it's possible. He says when it gets to the end of a merger you work straight through till it's done, but the timing is suspect. Today is going to suck. A meeting that goes from freaking eight in the morning to eight at night on a Sunday is something even Mom would've considered a little too convenient.
I'm swirling cereal around the bowl when Dad walks in, suited up for his big meeting. If he's lying to get out of the tennis tournament he at least feels bad enough to wear a costume that matches his cover story. I wonder how he'll handle this moment. Baby me? Ignore the significance of the day altogether? Without Mom telling him what to do, he's a dud at parenting.
"Say you're sick," he offers. His eyes shift around the room, working hard not to land on me.
"Huh?"
"Skip the tournament. Everyone will understand."
He did not just say that. I give him an icy glare. "Pretty sure Mom wouldn't tell me to bail on a commitment just because it was gonna be rough." He doesn't have a comeback, so he grabs a water bottle from the fridge and leaves for work.
(Continues...)Excerpted from I Liked My Life by Abby Fabiaschi. Copyright © 2017 Abagail Katherine Wittnebert. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Product details
- Publisher : St. Martin's Press (January 31, 2017)
- Language : English
- Hardcover : 272 pages
- ISBN-10 : 1250084873
- ISBN-13 : 978-1250084873
- Item Weight : 12.8 ounces
- Dimensions : 5.75 x 1 x 8.5 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #593,578 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #9,540 in Family Life Fiction (Books)
- #9,796 in Women's Domestic Life Fiction
- #30,367 in Literary Fiction (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
About the author
Abby Fabiaschi is a human rights advocate and co-founder of Empower Her Network, a nonprofit that paves a path for survivors of human trafficking with a will for independence. In 2012 Abby resigned from her executive post in high tech to pursue a career in writing. I LIKED MY LIFE is her first novel. She and her family divide their time between West Hartford, Connecticut, and Park City, Utah. Learn more at www.abbyfabiaschi.com and www.empowerhernetwork.org.
Customer reviews
Customer Reviews, including Product Star Ratings help customers to learn more about the product and decide whether it is the right product for them.
To calculate the overall star rating and percentage breakdown by star, we don’t use a simple average. Instead, our system considers things like how recent a review is and if the reviewer bought the item on Amazon. It also analyzed reviews to verify trustworthiness.
Learn more how customers reviews work on AmazonReviews with images
-
Top reviews
Top reviews from the United States
There was a problem filtering reviews right now. Please try again later.
This is a story about relationships, which is not my usual reading fare, but it also manages also to be a page turner. The underlying subject, Madeline's apparent suicide, is the lens through which we see Eve and Brady try to work out what their relationship was with Madeline, and how they will relate to each other going forward. Having Madeline's voice carry part of the narrative, with her combination of strength, self-doubt, and humor, keeps this story from becoming dark. The voices of Brady and Eve also reveal the secondary horror families of suicide victims face - having to deal not only with the loss of a loved one but the terrible guilt and questioning of their responsibility, and also the difficulty in trying to resume life and interact with friends who don't know what to say or how to act.
There are few books that stay with me after I read them, but I have found myself thinking about this one for weeks after reading it, and I'll probably read it again.
This would make an excellent book club selection - humorous, interesting, a little mystery and thought provoking. I am in awe of an author who can put together a story like this and tell it so compellingly. Someday I'd love to have a blow-by-blow of how she wrote it. I think that would be almost as interesting as the book!
”When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
Oh, let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be”
Paul McCartney – Let It Be
4.5 Stars
Madeline, Maddy, should be gone by now, but she’s hovering, trying to find her replacement. Her husband will need someone, a new wife – but not just anyone, she wants to find the perfect wife for him. He will need someone a little softer than she’s been with him, and, of course, someone to care for their daughter, Eve. Someone who can see the woman Eve will be someday, someone who can relate to her needs.
”Without attention, her sarcasm will turn to cynicism, her independence to isolation, her grief to depression.”
When she notices Rory, she connects with her almost immediately. Her instincts, no longer mired down by earthly constraints, tell her that Rory could be the one to bring a smile to Brady’s face someday, and the one to hold Eve’s hand through her grief. She knows that they blame themselves. And even though Maddy knows the truth, she watches Eve from her sheltered distance, watching Eve cling to her grief, as though it is an anchor of penance, an anchor keeping her mother from moving on.
”She wears guilt like a jacket on a cold day, clutching it.”
No one understands it, no one can quite believe that Maddy would have or could have taken her own life. Still, that is what the police report says.
She would do anything to ease their grief.
No matter how many times they ask how, why, they will never get an answer. When Brady stumbles across Maddy’s journal, he looks to it for some answers. All the therapists, doctors, the police – no one has answers that make sense, or help him come to terms with this. How could he be so wrong, how did he miss how unhappy she was? Reading her journal, a page or two at a time, over time. Things written in moments of anger, things written giving him insight into places he went wrong in their marriage. Maybe, he thinks eventually, he should share some of these passages, selected ones, with Eve. They need to begin to find a way back to living, not just surviving.
How? Why?
"There are so many things I dare not say. I have quietly stopped being me."
Despite their grief, there are moments of levity, and there are moments where you can begin to see the light shine through for them. They begin to heal, they begin to forgive themselves for not knowing when and where they went wrong.
”We’re given the gift of life with the consequence of death. I think it’d be a mistake to focus on the consequence instead of the gift.”
There were many elements to this that I loved, with some lovely prose, and a compelling story that flowed effortlessly from the start. It has a somewhat shared theme to a book I read last month, ”In the Quiet”, but where the latter was a lovely, quiet, introspective look at what lies beyond this life, “I Liked My Life” seems as though it was written to a broader audience. That’s not a complaint, as gorgeous as I found ”In the Quiet” to be, my heart can only take so many heartbreaking books back to back!
In the end, who really knows everything about the ones they love?
”And when the broken hearted people
Living in the world agree
There will be an answer, let it be
For though they may be parted
There is still a chance that they will see
There will be an answer, let it be
Oh, let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be
And there will be an answer, let it be
Oh, let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be”
Paul McCartney – “Let it Be”
The story is told from the voice of Maddy, the mother after her death, and then, the other people in the family, trying to adapt to her suicide. As the plot progresses, the reader understands that the mother had no real reason to kill herself. In fact, about halfway through the novel, I suspected it to be an accident, and the author’s purposefully omitting the circumstances of the mother’s death became a bit annoying but other than this, I was very much impressed with the characterization in general.
What was so impressive was the reaction of the daughter, Eve, and the husband, Brady, as they questioned their own earlier actions with guilt and grieved in their own ways, infusing the story with their loss and misery. Eve especially felt close to me as if I knew her. This alone shows the author’s understanding of human behavior.
The insightful examination of this family’s relationships and their efforts to adjust makes this book a must-read for those who like to read about families, marriage, and children.
In short, I loved this book, and I still recall some of Eve's touching words, such as "I have quietly stopped being me".
Top reviews from other countries
Individual strong character were given the time to develop and find their voice.
Suicide is a very sensitive subject.
The author is very respectful to not only the person who she passes away , but the grieving family.
Definitely a book I would highly recommend.
Looking forward to the authors next book.