An absorbing and suspenseful family remembrance.
In this richly detailed memoir, a woman revisits the murder of her mother more than half a century ago.
Campbell begins her story on the day of her mother Mary’s death: March 8, 1961, when she was 11 years old and her family lived in a farmhouse in Kent, Washington, just outside of Seattle. The first chapter moves through the day of the murder but stops short of the crime itself, leaving readers in suspense as the author traces her maternal and fraternal lines. What initially seems like a true-crime whodunit effectively becomes a history of settlement, hardship, and opportunity in the American West of the 19th and 20th centuries. Campbell goes on to meticulously sketch a family portrait, lingering with affection and reverence on her descriptions of her mother: “Mary was nick-named ‘Mary Sunshine’ by her sisters because every morning she would run to all the windows and pull back the curtains to let the warmth and light of the morning sun pour into the house.” The Campbell family moved frequently, and the author chronicles her father’s career trajectory, which culminated in a “top-paying job as an engineer at Boeing.” Religion is another steady theme, as the family belongs to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, which is a key element of their identity; “I am a descendent of polygamy,” Campbell declares at one point. The author eventually picks up the pieces of her mother’s murder in a chapter entitled “March 8, 1961: Part II”; from there, the book turns into a police procedural and courtroom drama. The murderer is found, but unanswered questions linger to this day.
The author, who co-wrote this memoir with her cousin Stroschein, quite capably turns a story of family tragedy into a suspenseful narrative. Some of the early chapters get a bit bogged down by backstory, but the parts that focus on Mary, her immediate family, and the circumstances and aftermath of her death move along briskly. However, Campbell clearly has a goal beyond simply spinning a gripping yarn; she also seeks to memorialize her mother. In this regard, she’s successful, as Mary is vividly presented as a loving and playful presence. The prose is steady and efficient throughout, which makes the occasional moments of figurative language stand out, as when Campbell writes, “My mother’s death would leave a tear in my soul I could not heal.” She also includes her mother’s letters about another painful part of the family’s history: her father’s infidelity and her parents’ separation. Mary’s distinct voice comes through in these missives, allowing readers to see her even more clearly. At times, the book is tonally inconsistent, moving from genealogical study to murder mystery to loving homage. Campbell is irrevocably drawn to the central crime, which proves to be as strange and horrible as the first chapter promises. The revelations don’t disappoint, but a sense of closure and justice proves elusive. The inclusion of several of Mary’s drawings offers a poignant endnote.
An absorbing and suspenseful family remembrance.Pub Date: March 28, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-950294-02-2
Page Count: 242
Publisher: Elk River Press
Review Posted Online: Sept. 9, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 15, 2020
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
The lessons to draw are obvious: Smoke more dope, eat less meat. Like-minded readers will dig it.
The chef, rapper, and TV host serves up a blustery memoir with lashings of self-help.
“I’ve always had a sick confidence,” writes Bronson, ne Ariyan Arslani. The confidence, he adds, comes from numerous sources: being a New Yorker, and more specifically a New Yorker from Queens; being “short and fucking husky” and still game for a standoff on the basketball court; having strength, stamina, and seemingly no fear. All these things serve him well in the rough-and-tumble youth he describes, all stickball and steroids. Yet another confidence-builder: In the big city, you’ve got to sink or swim. “No one is just accepted—you have to fucking show that you’re able to roll,” he writes. In a narrative steeped in language that would make Lenny Bruce blush, Bronson recounts his sentimental education, schooled by immigrant Italian and Albanian family members and the mean streets, building habits good and bad. The virtue of those habits will depend on your take on modern mores. Bronson writes, for example, of “getting my dick pierced” down in the West Village, then grabbing a pizza and smoking weed. “I always smoke weed freely, always have and always will,” he writes. “I’ll just light a blunt anywhere.” Though he’s gone through the classic experiences of the latter-day stoner, flunking out and getting arrested numerous times, Bronson is a hard charger who’s not afraid to face nearly any challenge—especially, given his physique and genes, the necessity of losing weight: “If you’re husky, you’re always dieting in your mind,” he writes. Though vulgar and boastful, Bronson serves up a model that has plenty of good points, including his growing interest in nature, creativity, and the desire to “leave a legacy for everybody.”
The lessons to draw are obvious: Smoke more dope, eat less meat. Like-minded readers will dig it.Pub Date: April 20, 2021
ISBN: 978-1-4197-4478-5
Page Count: 184
Publisher: Abrams
Review Posted Online: May 5, 2021
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 1, 2021
Skloot's meticulous, riveting account strikes a humanistic balance between sociological history, venerable portraiture and...
A dense, absorbing investigation into the medical community's exploitation of a dying woman and her family's struggle to salvage truth and dignity decades later.
In a well-paced, vibrant narrative, Popular Science contributor and Culture Dish blogger Skloot (Creative Writing/Univ. of Memphis) demonstrates that for every human cell put under a microscope, a complex life story is inexorably attached, to which doctors, researchers and laboratories have often been woefully insensitive and unaccountable. In 1951, Henrietta Lacks, an African-American mother of five, was diagnosed with what proved to be a fatal form of cervical cancer. At Johns Hopkins, the doctors harvested cells from her cervix without her permission and distributed them to labs around the globe, where they were multiplied and used for a diverse array of treatments. Known as HeLa cells, they became one of the world's most ubiquitous sources for medical research of everything from hormones, steroids and vitamins to gene mapping, in vitro fertilization, even the polio vaccine—all without the knowledge, must less consent, of the Lacks family. Skloot spent a decade interviewing every relative of Lacks she could find, excavating difficult memories and long-simmering outrage that had lay dormant since their loved one's sorrowful demise. Equal parts intimate biography and brutal clinical reportage, Skloot's graceful narrative adeptly navigates the wrenching Lack family recollections and the sobering, overarching realities of poverty and pre–civil-rights racism. The author's style is matched by a methodical scientific rigor and manifest expertise in the field.
Skloot's meticulous, riveting account strikes a humanistic balance between sociological history, venerable portraiture and Petri dish politics.Pub Date: Feb. 9, 2010
ISBN: 978-1-4000-5217-2
Page Count: 320
Publisher: Crown
Review Posted Online: Dec. 22, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2010
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