Menara is a keenly observant writer, particularly with regard to recognizing the rare, simple pleasures of her childhood: “I shoved my face in the fresh sweetness of the purple buds then continued on my walk as I gazed at the sun filtering through the towering trees.” Similarly, she never shies away from describing the horrors of her mother’s terminal illness: “Her backside was saddled with bedsores the stench was unbearable. Despite such traumas, visits from social services instilled a genuine fear in the author of being taken away. One particularly nightmarish moment details Shirley’s demand that newly born puppies be flushed down the toilet. The book also portrays a challenging relationship with a mother who showed moments of tenderness but also ordered her kids to dish out punishments on her behalf, which included administering severe beatings with a pancake turner and starving one brother. The memoir recalls how, as a child, Menara coped with emptying bedpans, assisting with sanitary towels, and giving enemas. In the mid-’60s, her mother, Shirley, was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, which led to her being bedridden and cared for by her children.
The author was born in 1963 to parents who were recently divorced. Raised in Northern Michigan in the 1960s and ’70s, Menara was one of 10 siblings living in a two-bedroom, tin-roofed hut. In this debut memoir, a woman recounts growing up with a mother confined to her bed because of multiple sclerosis.
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