Elizabeth is Missing, by Emma Healey
tl;dr: this book is brilliant.
I rather wanted to reread this book before reviewing it, because it's a rather disorienting read. It's written from the persepctive of a lady suffering from dementia, and as blogger housemate (of Stuck in a Book fame, and who inspired me to start reviewing books on here) put it, you come away feeling as though you have dementia yourself. So one read to experience the book, and another to figure out what was actually happening! It's also a thriller, which makes the whole not-quite-sure-what's-happening vibe is even more disconcerting.
Well, I haven't reread it, but I am excited to review it, because I think it's a really great book.
Maud, the elderly protagonist suffering from dementia, is driven throughout the book by the conviction that Elizabeth, as per the title, is missing. We meet Elizabeth, an elderly partially sighted friend of Maud's, briefly in the prologue. The prologue which is all of a page and a half, yet somehow introduces a whole bevy of themes that will run throughout the book, little obsessions that Maud's wandering mind keeps coming back to.
The sense of disjointedness is one that is not unfamiliar in present-day literature. In an age of postmodern uncertainty and where the assumption of order and meaning in life is up for question, the experience of both ordinary and less ordinary characters is often portrayed as a jumble of incongruent events in which the character tosses around for some temporary happiness and security. This style of writing, reapplied to a dementia sufferer for whom there is demonstrably very little continuity of experience, is incredibly effective.
The brilliance of the book lies in its portrayal of Maud's internal thought life. The book is a sort of continuous soundtrack of what is going through Maud's mind, capturing the confusion she feels as some thoughts slip away and others linger deprived of their context; while at the same time the reader, equipped with a more reliable memory, retains insight into what led her to where she is. That said, the fragmented nature of Maud's thought life and the gradual insertion of memories from many years before mean that the reader is not in full possession of the facts either, which is the perfect setup for a thriller. The other part of Maud's thought life is memories from when she was a little girl. At first these are clearly demarcated into sections separate from the main text, but as her mind becomes more confused details from one phase of her life start slipping into the realities of the other.
The gradual deterioration of Maud's memory is masterfully portrayed; Healey captures both the disjointedness of the experience as Maud loses and regains understanding of different aspects of what is going on around her, and the overall downward progression. Compare two contiguous pages and you won't spot much change, yet through the book Maud moves from being a functioning, largely independent adult who struggles to remember things, to a hardly-aware and totally dependent version of herself. It brings to mind Mark Dunn's Ella Minnow Pea, in which the protagonist fights to retain the power of expression as more and more letters are banned from the alphabet.
There's also a whole layer of exploration of how Maud reacts to the experience of dementia. At first, she manages to keep control of her life through a series of elaborate notes - a good number of them tracking her investigation of what has become of Elizabeth. As facts escape her, she learns to rely on her instincts - like the nagging thought of Elizabeth's disappearance - and is frustrated when others fail to take her perspective seriously. At this stage she is offended by the implication in other people's treatment of her that she is in need of help or that she's not fully there. There's a sweet moment when granddaughter Katy is teasing her:
More than anything else, though, it's the characters Healey places around Maud that gave me pause for thought. Central to this is her daughter Helen, who is first intrduced to us as someone who takes away Maud's spare food. As I got to know her, however, through her interactions with Maud, I couldn't help but admire her. As well as being responsible for Maud, she is a single mum to teenage Katy and a successful businesswoman. In other words, she is handling more than most of us would be able to, and handling it apparently very well.
Maud isn't exactly appreciative - I don't think many of us are when we have to let go of our independence and accept help - and she mostly notices when Helen gets annoyed; annoyed with Maud for buying innane quantities of peaches, annoyed with Maud for ringing people in the dead of night, annoyed with Maud for reading aloud every sign she passes and continually asking after Elizabeth. Maud's dislike of this is contrasted with her excitement at seeing her son Tom and family, who come for a visit halfway through the book. Helen clearly finds her mum's excitement at seeing Tom infuriating. When Maud can't remember who he is, Helen doesn't answer with 'he's your son' but instead with 'he flies in from Germany once a year and flies out again and you think he's wonderful.'
But it doesn't take much reading between the lines to see that Helen's dedication is admirable. She visits every day despite knowing that Maud will forget that she's been, patiently follows Maud when she takes a shine to digging outside in the early hours, wonders round shops for hours looking for just the right cardigan. Even when she's frustrated, she shows great concern for Maud's welfare and distress when she misses a sign that something's wrong. The further I got through the book, the more in awe I became of how unbegrudgingly Helen gives up her time, money and freedom to take care of her ailing mother.
Katy is brilliant too. Even though she doesn't do much to help, she clearly loves her grandmother and doesn't seem at all thrown by not being recognised or by having to explain what's going on. When Maud happens to wander past her lost, Katy ditches her friends without hesitating and takes Maud for a cup of coffee instead, helping her drink it and drying her off and going to fetch her out of the bathrooms as though this is how every coffee date should be.
Other characters have a range of reactions to Maud's eccentricities. While staff at the local department store follow her suspiciously, the receptionist at the local newspaper is far more friendly and laughs at herself for misunderstanding Maud's query rather than blaming Maud for being less than clear.
Healey's genuis is in giving her readers an insight into what it feels like to be the person with dementia, and thus helps us to relate to dementia sufferers in the awareness that no matter how their minds may have let them down, there is a real person still in there who is not only deserving of care but also totally worth getting to know. The challenge for me was recognising where I fit into the spectrum of supporting characters. Living in a society that is both individualistic, meaning we are all chasing our own goals, and aging, meaning that the young and active are more thinly spread, I am aware that loneliness is the norm for the elderly amongst us. I would love this to change. But I am painfully aware that I'm unwilling to lay aside my time and my projects to be part of the difference.
I don't know the answers. If you do, please tell me?
I rather wanted to reread this book before reviewing it, because it's a rather disorienting read. It's written from the persepctive of a lady suffering from dementia, and as blogger housemate (of Stuck in a Book fame, and who inspired me to start reviewing books on here) put it, you come away feeling as though you have dementia yourself. So one read to experience the book, and another to figure out what was actually happening! It's also a thriller, which makes the whole not-quite-sure-what's-happening vibe is even more disconcerting.
Well, I haven't reread it, but I am excited to review it, because I think it's a really great book.
Maud, the elderly protagonist suffering from dementia, is driven throughout the book by the conviction that Elizabeth, as per the title, is missing. We meet Elizabeth, an elderly partially sighted friend of Maud's, briefly in the prologue. The prologue which is all of a page and a half, yet somehow introduces a whole bevy of themes that will run throughout the book, little obsessions that Maud's wandering mind keeps coming back to.
The sense of disjointedness is one that is not unfamiliar in present-day literature. In an age of postmodern uncertainty and where the assumption of order and meaning in life is up for question, the experience of both ordinary and less ordinary characters is often portrayed as a jumble of incongruent events in which the character tosses around for some temporary happiness and security. This style of writing, reapplied to a dementia sufferer for whom there is demonstrably very little continuity of experience, is incredibly effective.
The brilliance of the book lies in its portrayal of Maud's internal thought life. The book is a sort of continuous soundtrack of what is going through Maud's mind, capturing the confusion she feels as some thoughts slip away and others linger deprived of their context; while at the same time the reader, equipped with a more reliable memory, retains insight into what led her to where she is. That said, the fragmented nature of Maud's thought life and the gradual insertion of memories from many years before mean that the reader is not in full possession of the facts either, which is the perfect setup for a thriller. The other part of Maud's thought life is memories from when she was a little girl. At first these are clearly demarcated into sections separate from the main text, but as her mind becomes more confused details from one phase of her life start slipping into the realities of the other.
The gradual deterioration of Maud's memory is masterfully portrayed; Healey captures both the disjointedness of the experience as Maud loses and regains understanding of different aspects of what is going on around her, and the overall downward progression. Compare two contiguous pages and you won't spot much change, yet through the book Maud moves from being a functioning, largely independent adult who struggles to remember things, to a hardly-aware and totally dependent version of herself. It brings to mind Mark Dunn's Ella Minnow Pea, in which the protagonist fights to retain the power of expression as more and more letters are banned from the alphabet.
There's also a whole layer of exploration of how Maud reacts to the experience of dementia. At first, she manages to keep control of her life through a series of elaborate notes - a good number of them tracking her investigation of what has become of Elizabeth. As facts escape her, she learns to rely on her instincts - like the nagging thought of Elizabeth's disappearance - and is frustrated when others fail to take her perspective seriously. At this stage she is offended by the implication in other people's treatment of her that she is in need of help or that she's not fully there. There's a sweet moment when granddaughter Katy is teasing her:
I can't help smiling; it's nice, being teased. [...] At least someone assumes I'm intelligent enough to make a joke.Other moments are more troubling, like the day she can't remember which way round a knife and fork go.
I don't look up. It's such a little thing - knowing where to put cutlery - but I feel like I've failed an important test. A little piece of me is gone. [...] 'I don't want to set the table again,' I say.However, as the experience of uncertainty becomes more familiar, Maud's anxiety dissipates and she accepts the unexplained around her and focuses on her own pursuits with a childlike insouciance.
More than anything else, though, it's the characters Healey places around Maud that gave me pause for thought. Central to this is her daughter Helen, who is first intrduced to us as someone who takes away Maud's spare food. As I got to know her, however, through her interactions with Maud, I couldn't help but admire her. As well as being responsible for Maud, she is a single mum to teenage Katy and a successful businesswoman. In other words, she is handling more than most of us would be able to, and handling it apparently very well.
Maud isn't exactly appreciative - I don't think many of us are when we have to let go of our independence and accept help - and she mostly notices when Helen gets annoyed; annoyed with Maud for buying innane quantities of peaches, annoyed with Maud for ringing people in the dead of night, annoyed with Maud for reading aloud every sign she passes and continually asking after Elizabeth. Maud's dislike of this is contrasted with her excitement at seeing her son Tom and family, who come for a visit halfway through the book. Helen clearly finds her mum's excitement at seeing Tom infuriating. When Maud can't remember who he is, Helen doesn't answer with 'he's your son' but instead with 'he flies in from Germany once a year and flies out again and you think he's wonderful.'
But it doesn't take much reading between the lines to see that Helen's dedication is admirable. She visits every day despite knowing that Maud will forget that she's been, patiently follows Maud when she takes a shine to digging outside in the early hours, wonders round shops for hours looking for just the right cardigan. Even when she's frustrated, she shows great concern for Maud's welfare and distress when she misses a sign that something's wrong. The further I got through the book, the more in awe I became of how unbegrudgingly Helen gives up her time, money and freedom to take care of her ailing mother.
Katy is brilliant too. Even though she doesn't do much to help, she clearly loves her grandmother and doesn't seem at all thrown by not being recognised or by having to explain what's going on. When Maud happens to wander past her lost, Katy ditches her friends without hesitating and takes Maud for a cup of coffee instead, helping her drink it and drying her off and going to fetch her out of the bathrooms as though this is how every coffee date should be.
Other characters have a range of reactions to Maud's eccentricities. While staff at the local department store follow her suspiciously, the receptionist at the local newspaper is far more friendly and laughs at herself for misunderstanding Maud's query rather than blaming Maud for being less than clear.
Healey's genuis is in giving her readers an insight into what it feels like to be the person with dementia, and thus helps us to relate to dementia sufferers in the awareness that no matter how their minds may have let them down, there is a real person still in there who is not only deserving of care but also totally worth getting to know. The challenge for me was recognising where I fit into the spectrum of supporting characters. Living in a society that is both individualistic, meaning we are all chasing our own goals, and aging, meaning that the young and active are more thinly spread, I am aware that loneliness is the norm for the elderly amongst us. I would love this to change. But I am painfully aware that I'm unwilling to lay aside my time and my projects to be part of the difference.
I don't know the answers. If you do, please tell me?
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