Dawn Davies' memoir is one I feel I'll remember for awhile. There were so many beautiful things to like about this book, her writing style, some evocative and poetic language- the opening scene, for instance, where she describes her daughters swimming. Gorgeous. But then
…more there are so many other harsh and biting scenes, so much of life's ugliness seemingly fixed into one life- it's heartbreaking and painful, and sad because it's true. Her passages comparing the lives and choices of spartan mothers with her own and the issues with her son were truly horrific. Davies is so real and honest, painfully so, in her admission and style that you as the reader feel physically there, in her head, as millions of thoughts, good and bad, are considered. She doesn't shield you, and doesn't shy away from verbalizing her fears and thoughts.
I'm torn, though, as to whether I enjoyed this book- as I said, parts were wonderful, parts were painful, but overall it felt so chaotic as a book, chapters ranging from early pregnancy stories, to who she'd sleep with, to soccer games, to dealing with a child predator, and each change was a jarring shift. Perhaps that's exactly how you're expected to feel, I don't know. It's interesting that the title includes "a memoir in pieces," because that's just what it is- pieces of life that make up her life. I'm still dealing with this book, thinking it over, and might be for awhile, bu a overall, it was a very interesting read. (less)
