DRUMMER GIRL

A debut author reflects on the duality of existence in this memoir.

“Birth and death are woven into the fabric of all living beings,” writes Dukes, adding that it’s “a cycle we all share, one that cannot be avoided.” In this memoir, the author blends spiritual observations on the interconnectivity and paradoxes of life and death with her own memories. A baby born prematurely in the 1950s, Dukes was later diagnosed with congestive heart failure and underwent heart surgery that was accompanied by a near-death experience. “I touched death, I saw death, I experienced the afterlife, and I returned,” she asserts. Her life would be marked by further episodes of trauma and grief as she aged, including a bout with breast cancer at age 45 and her husband’s diagnosis with a terminal disease. These times of suffering are underscored by the author’s resilience, as seen when Dukes and her husband, tired of Covid-era constrictions, moved to a Greek island. The book eschews a chronological narrative, instead offering vignettes that jump across multiple decades. The author also declines to use a single narrative approach, with some chapters written in first person and others narrated in third person. Describing her childhood illness, Dukes refers to herself as “drummer girl,” writing from the perspective of an omniscient narrator, which allows her to couch her own experiences in a broader reflection on parenthood, fear, and death. This approach makes for a memoir that reads more like a novel, rife with symbolism and metaphors. A stuffed animal named Green Dog, for instance, appears at various intervals across the book’s timelines, and a doctor’s sketch of an elephant drawn in pencil on yellow-lined paper becomes a recurring character as “the keeper of memories, the remover of obstacles.” Often literary in feel, the work features poignant soliloquys, original poetry, and references to authors from Chinese linguist Lin Yutang to novelist Rachel Cusk.

A poignant reflection on the eternal tension between life and death.