Harper Collins

240 pages, $17.99

Review by Darlena Cunha

“There are long stretches where I don’t remember anything.”

The resonation of this sentence must be nearly universal. Memory is a mechanism of fancy, and thoughts come and go, sometimes as snapshots, still pictures that float up for just a moment from the dark pools of the mind, and sometimes as living, breathing creatures overtaking all current thought from the will of the beholder. And isn’t each memory a memory of a memory? Each time the image springs upon us anew, the emotions we carried the last time we thought of it cling to the ever-heavying frame until we can no longer discern the bones of what happened in that one instant from the myriad of outside forces having sullied them.

And these are merely the things that happen to those of us lucky enough to have inherited a brain chemistry considered “normal.” Continue reading →